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the stars hold so much beauty and you hold so much foolishness.. they entice you, provoke you. they will forever be out of your reach. yet, ..you strain your neck, looking upward..you strain your arms extending your reach to the inevitable.. why do you pursue such a feat?.. why do you allow yourself to be seduced? stars are not to be claimed, they are admired.. they are for all, sorry to say.. the stars look down on you.. to them, you will remain tiny specks on the big blue sphere as seen from the heavens.. when they fall is the only time you would see them for what they really are... they are rocks... mere rocks. rocks that have lost their luster and have failed to continue twinkling.. now..where is the beauty you so longed for once before? when comes a time for you to describe the night scenery; stars, sky, and horizon are never left unmentioned..one thing that is always left out is the night wind.. the wind that whips through your hair.. flows through your fingers... the wind that envelops your body and seeps through your clothes to graze against your skin.. while you continue to strain your body trying to achieve the impossible, grasping for the stars, the wind caresses you.. and you don't even notice...it gently dries the tear that rolls down your face as you make your wishes upon the stars that have yet to prove their granting abilities.. the wind is always there. the wind is all around you..it is consistent with presence.. when night turns to day, the stars are gone yet.. the wind will always be there. the wind may be, at times, passive, or too aggressive.. true, it is unpredictable.. but the only thing you can depend on.. it will forever be there waiting for you to acknowledge it's presence.. at night, when the romance strikes your insides and you turn your gaze to the heavens, the night wind comforts you as you once again allow yourself to fall victim to the stars.. |
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it's always this way..we do this all the time.. the game that will forever be in play.. it doesn't matter who's turn it is.. it is a secret game, something that only we could understand and benefit from.. the two of us, the only players.. there are no rules the thrill of the game has it's consequences and i find myself wondering, "who won?"..and again, another game played without keeping score..when the intensity heightens, i feel cheated cause i start to think that maybe..maybe i'm not just in this for the fun and play but for the long run..i want this to be more than just a game we play.. |
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she sits in the parlor mischievously painted pink and white to supposedly impose grace and beauty. the chair she sits on is beautiful with carvings of unicorns and ivy. she looks out the window and the tire swing sways gently in a summer afternoon. she looks down, her hands are folded neatly atop the pleats of her summer dress draping her thighs. she rises from her chair. she walks to the window. with every step she takes, her hair lightly bounces off her shoulders. she touches the smooth glass, she sees her own reflection and beyond that, the lazy old tire swing hanging from the oak. she smiles. she thrusts her fist through the glass, shattering it. her hand is bleeding. she hurriedly wipes the blood on the white curtains. she takes a sharp shard of glass and starts cutting through the pink and white wallpaper. she etches off the carvings on her chair, placing two horns on the unicorns and making snakes out of the ivy. blood continues to flow from her hand and to trail down her arms. she lunges toward the grand piano. rips off the cover and starts playing dance of the sugar plum fairies. she appears to be convulting, her hair now bounces furiously off her shoulders and against her back. the white keys turn pink from the blood spill. she doesn't finish her song. she gets up, her vision has blurred. she trips and falls trying to grasp the doorknob. she looks around the parlor, she has ruined the wallpaper. there are smears of blood on the walls and funiture. she can't seem to open the door. she starts to scream. she screams! and screams! the door opens.."gracie, what have you done?" |
| i hate every beautiful day. i hate when i push you to do what i know would make you happy but would crush me inside. i hate that you're the only other guy who could make me cry. i hate that i am you're one night stand and she is your dream. i hate that you think of me as an only just and you think of her as an everything. i hate that you come to me for your shoulder to lean on, for your arms to catch you, for every goddmaned moment you feel lost. i hate that i'm so willing to help you. i hate to have to hear about your whims and woes, your wishes and dreams. i hate that i am nowhere to be found in your wishes. i hate that this is so much like that wretched teen flick, with all the "i hates.." i hate that you will never know how i feel. i hate that i can never bring myself to telling you. i hate that i love you so much that i'd always put your happiness first even though that means that part of me dies. i hate that i can't just stop seeing you. i hate all this complication. i hate all this misdirection. i hate that you're amazing. i hate that you mean so much to me that i would never put you in a situation wherein you'd have to choose. i hate that i can't stop. i hate that i can't get over you. i hate you and your smile. i hate you are your hugs. i hate you and your car. i hate you and the way you smell. i hate you and your eyes. i hate you and your kisses. i hate that i can't hate you. |
| aqui vamos..uno para el dinero, dos para la exposicion..corra lejos..a en ningún lugar..realmente, dondequiera lejos de usted..don't come after me..i know what i'm doing..entiéndame..por favor..it'll hurt..i'm not known for my strenuous workouts..has lo que quiera! if you must!..don't expect me to give in..tu complica todo..para ti, stop.. |