Saturday, January 29, 2011

Crash and Burn.

"Success isn't a result of spontaneous combustion. You must set yourself on fire."- Arnold H. Glasgow

I set myself on fire, time and time again. Risked more than others thought was safe. Loved more than others thought was wise. Dreamt more than others thought was practical. And expected more than others thought was possible. And that's where I faltered.

People speak my mind all the time. It's untrue. But I let them. Because hell, dare I risk speaking my own mind! I have a tendency to plunge into a few moments of bliss, ignorant of the fact that while infinite moments do make up eternity, the moments themselves are not eternal. 

My mind and soul need desperately to be purged of everything beautiful and ugly. Because sure those classifications were made by me. But only under the influence and pressure of another pair. My phone hasn't buzzed yet. And I'm not even waiting anymore. I'm abstaining and rehabilitating. Just not sure if it's working. 

I'd wait for a friend, no matter how long they made me wait. Wherever they made me wait. Without so much as a complaint. Because I care. Sometimes too much. Because I love. Sometimes unrequitedly. But you've lost that place now. It's commendable how persistently you kept your efforts up. It paid off, didn't it? 

Your fellow conspirer that you probably don't even know about, lives in another tangential world. I am unaware of his thoughts, feelings, and whereabouts. Or whether they even exist in the first place. Everything starts with a roll in it. Or with the favorite alphabet J. And continues in a trance. But there's a lot more he tends to share and then bottle it up and throw it far out into the sea. Maybe another forlorn traveller finds what he disposed. I sincerely hope not. 

So while he continues choosing not to choose. And reading me incorrectly. Or correctly. Whatever. And speaking for me and taking away from me whatever I could have had even for the little while it was possible. I do not know how to thank his infallible efforts to deprive me. And his sadist self... You can continue settling for everything less(er). Settle all you want. I'll find other soothsayers, with similar pronouncements, 'now you're here, now you're not.' And face them. And try not repeating the cycle all over again.

Learn from thy mistakes. Because that's just what they are. Missed-takes. I'm looking for my perfect shot. 

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Not Him?

"Lucky we're in love in every way."- Jason Mraz, Colbie Caillat.

Dear Unnamed Relationship,

I love you.
And I always will.
In some twisted, unexplained way.
Welcome back to the madness.

                      - Love, 'Saved Twice and Still Living.'

Monday, January 24, 2011

Blank Noise.

"No blinding light
Or tunnels, to gates of white
Just our hands clasped so tight
Waiting for the hint of a spark."- Death Cab for Cutie

It's either the highest of highs,
Or the lowest of lows.
Living dangerously comes naturally to us.
Nothing is an option anymore.
Extremities conjure ghosts we banished a long time ago.
Vulnerability is not only over-rated,
It's an outright lie.
The stoics survive,
They exist. They breathe. So yeah, they live.
We're caught in the middle of hypocrites though.
Live and let live, is a lost mantra.
Moving in circles blindly,
Bumping into cliched monotones.
We didn't sign up for this.
We were told we had voices.
Incestuous thoughts and souls, pervert everything otherwise transparent.
Complexities that knot into Medusa's locks.
Look once, 
Live as a stone forever.
Fantasies garnished with Greek Gods and black roses.
Sometimes we can't tell the difference between nightmares and reality.


Don't hold my heart in your fist. You think you're a preserver,
But I see blood. Murder.

You whisper my name and the winds sigh.
If I take your name, I'm in admittance.
Otherwise I just lie.

Barbaric animosities you place between us.
You're burning me in a never-ending fire.
I'm seared in a lifeless cauldron,
You're coated in a faultless frost.

Pretense has gotten the best of me.
Sadism, I'm told, now falls under frivolity.
Send me down the tunnel you found,
I have no voice,
I hear no sound.

Thursday, January 20, 2011

You and I, Both. (:

Dear Bassists,

Please don't look us deep in the eyes and tell us we're absolutely amazing. Don't seduce us, confuse us, and seduce us again. Don't tell us you enjoy our company and don't refuse to get out of the coffee shop until thrown out only so that you can spend a few more minutes with us. Don't tell us you love our hair, fringed or otherwise. Don't kiss us like it's all you've ever wanted to do. Don't like the same music we do, have a voice like that, and sing it to us, for us. Don't look at us and smile that smile while performing on stage. It makes us fall in love with you. Momentarily. Even when you don't know it. Don't make us bare our souls and then not judge us. Don't tell us that no matter how tough we are, you still want to protect us. It makes us fall in love with you, just a little bit more. Don't be our best friends, lovers, or the ones we share an inside secret with, or an awkward hug with, or a shy smile with. Don't light our cigarettes with that smirk, even though we can't ourselves. Don't place your hands in the small of our backs and make us jump out of our skins, every single time. Don't love our dogs and make up your mind to get one yourselves. Don't treat us like we need help. We don't. Don't change your minds. Just make up your minds. We love you.

Just don't.
And then do it all over again. 

Love, The Saved.   

Sleeping Through Life. (Memoirs)

"Maybe it's a dream and if I scream it'll burst at the seams..."- Jack Johnson 

We love, we hate, we turn.
I prop my legs up on the sill, and yawn.
Tousled hair and an oversized tee.
The sun, nudging past obstacles, 
Touches my forehead tenderly.
And just like that you look at me,
You're beautiful, your eyes seem to say.
But your mouth just kisses me.

We obsess, we fight, we hurt.
With kohl-lined eyes and a scarlet mouth,
I make my way down the street now home.
But even home at night houses strangers.
But all dangers,
I pose,
Are to me. Myself. I don't know you anymore.
I tug at my LBD, take off my stilettos, 
Glinting gold.
And slip into you.
Into your once safe and warm hold.

We break, we take, and remake.
Bleak street lights on a winter night.
December clouds hover.
Two years and I've already found a lover,
In the heart of this city.
Bound to it by an intricate weave of friendships,
Sisterhood, love, laughter, heartbreak and tears.

We think, we ponder, we procrastinate.
Strewn DVD's across purple bed sheets,
The blue and white of Facebook...
Fashionistas and snob magazines,
And empty pizza boxes.

The innocent eyes are now a distant haze,
Seeing but not focusing.
Vacant with all the smoke.
Call me beautiful.
I'll bear with you.
Me into the deeper recesses of insanity.

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Calm. Storm.

"...and it's sick that all these battles are what keeps me satisfied."- Rihanna

I was perfectly fine. I was doing okay. 
But that wasn't okay with you.

Monday, January 17, 2011

Of Scarred Swans.

                     "She's got you high, and you don't even know yet."- Mumm-Ra

I've never been here before. I'm looking at myself from a distance, for the few moments that I can manage that, I don't like what I see. The three by two mirror frame that has seen me transform, lies. There was a time I believed it when one voice, not quite aiming to be heard, said it. But now it takes a million hollow voices shouting from rooftops for me to believe I'm beautiful. Or something like that. 
Ugly ducklings do turn into swans. But our childhood story never even hinted at the painstaking and dramatic evolving that takes place in the process of the transformation. And it still doesn't quite end there. Somewhere along the way you believe in Shah Rukh Khan and Santa Claus. Somewhere along the way you fall in love, face flat. And somewhere along the way your heart shatters to such pieces that the sound of the crash can be heard above the tremors of the ocean and the cheers of drunk bar crawlers.
You blame it on the alcohol, you blame it on too many restrictions that your parents imposed on you, even though you don't understand why. You blame it on finding so many opportunities to experience so much in one, metaphorically one, night. Especially when all you have seen up until now, is a narrow, deflated bubble romanticizing your view of the world by means of its constricted opening. Don't blame me. I was just having fun. I wasn't really thinking.
Each time you say those words, and the more you repeat them, the more you actually end up believing them. Even if it was all a lie to begin with. False claims about myself won't get me anywhere. Or won't they? 
Opinions and lectures will come from every direction. Judgements galore. But the swans are too self-consumed by now and have missed out on way too much for way too long to really stop even if they want to. We're too far along. We've all come a long way. But somehow there's still comfort in my, caught up with lipgloss, rising hemlines and too many tongues to remember, heart and mind when I learn that somebody still smiles when they think of me. That their heart beats a tad bit faster when they hear my name. And that there's a possibility that I'm the reason they endorse romantic cliches, tear jerking movies and sappy-to-the-point-of-being-pathetic songs. 
I'm still deriving comfort and discomfort from episodes in my life that just don't fail to disappoint. And duckling or swan, I'm still hopelessly waiting to be swept off my feet by a Shah Rukh Khan, if only to be dropped back down to Earth. Again. Always.  

Monday, January 10, 2011

Oh, you.

Here it is.
There you are.
A year ago, I'd miss those green eyes as easily as I'd find hazel. But now I have to tear my gaze away. I don't want to be caught. You know.
Of course I'm strong. I have no emotions. My heart's dried up. 
Yes I miss my friends talking about the way you looked at me. And sure, I miss how you'd lift me, just for a second, away from the crowd, and plant a kiss on my forehead, only to place me back in the drama, dreamily. Reality. 
But I don't remember. I don't think. I'm closed. I'm strong. 
"Are you listening to what I'm saying?!"
"Yeah babe. But. I have a new plan. I'm putting things into perspective. Wanna hear about it?"
Sigh. "Sure."
Dear Oblivion with a face. I love you.
I love teaching you. I love the the task of containing you, just for the thrill of what you're going to burst into next. Exploding. 
I didn't say that. I don't love. I don't feel.
Who knew you'd creep into me now? NOW? Why me? Self preservation. 
Inside of me.
Hold me by the waist.
Shut me up with a kiss.
Don't think of a birthday present for me.
Laugh at me, let me sulk, and then give me such a look that I forgive murder.
Keep me where all I can breathe is you.
Trust me, that all I want is you.
Flawed. Inconsiderate. Oblivious. 
I did not say that. My heart's dried up. I hope the ink does too...