NOT TONIGHT ----- Tonight.

I DON'T WANNA SLEEP!!!
NOT TONIGHT!

–.As the morning hours creep -
------up on me.

My mind is the attic you don't care for...
thoughts everywhere...
in no particular order...
overflowing up and out of their respective boxes...
maybe the light bulb is burnt out...
I'm not too sure. I can't think, cannot think a thing a thought a notion an idea. Not even a dream, or a feeling; fleeting.


I wish sleep didn't seem so.....Undesirable. So awful. So awful.


I just need to give in. In this case, it's okay.

NOT TONIGHT!!!

Yes, tonight. Do what's right. Overcome the fright.
Leave the delight
of staying up all night
to another night. It'll be alright.

And then I slept.
The next morning I was fine. A-okay.


September 3
2009
XO

A Brief 15 Seconds Inside My Head

A Brief 15 Seconds Inside My Head

Wreck, wreck, wreck.

Wreck.

Wreck wreck.

My hands continue to shake,

I took the time to check.

“Sit still!”

I tell them.

But I'm a wreck.

No outlet, no release.

Not for me – I pace the floors – not for me not for me not for me!

Could there be

a single thing

to kill all the

anxiety??

Not for me not for me not for me.

I'm a wreck, you see.

Some call it nervous, others OCD.

But not me.

I call it me. I am what you see.

Wreck wreck wreck wreck wreck,

a description of me.

Are the doors locked?

Wreck wreck wreck.

Are the windows shut?

Wreck wreck wreck.

Is the alarm set?

Wreck.

Do I look okay?

Wreck.

Is my pulse normal?

Wreck.

Am I gonna die am I gonna die am I gonna die am I gonna die??

Wreck.

Wreck wreck.

Is my heart about to stop, or my car about to crash, or my plane about to fall clean out of the sky??

Am I gonna die??

And WHY??

Why do I wonder if I'm alright??

Why do I wring my hands in plain sight??

Why is my mental state a constant fight??

Wreck wreck wreck. Wreck wreck.

On top of my neck.

September 1 – 2009

XO....wreck.

Let This Day Last Forever

On a shallow day last November,

I found you in the snow.

I was on my way to my apartment,

so I took you home.

Filled you with food, called you my own.

I said “Welcome, my dear, to your new home”.

And we were together

as if it were written in the stars

like a fairytale

And you took me in, just as I took you in.

The good, the bad, and the in between.

And we made ourselves a part of one another.

Love, like a run-away train.

We hold on tight, hope we don't crash,

Let this day last forever.

(and it will, in our hearts and minds, together)

August 31

2009

XO

Lie: I'm Grateful For My Mortality.

The early morning hours bring seduction -

the empty sidewalks,

empty streets...

the frozen stoplights -

no cars to brush their feet.

I take my walk. A lengthy walk.

Past the maze of neon signs and hospital ward windows...

past the cheap motels - a home to those just getting by...

past the bus stops - and the parks.

There are lots of parks here,

each one with it's own sister or saint.

The industry I see here flips a switch in my head:

Life is - nature, organic.

The machines resuscitate the dying,

keep them breathing -

hearts beating.

Machines made by man. With smoke-stacks and gears and electricity.

Pilot lights and switches and buttons;

control panels and levers.

Indicators of the restoration of life (or loss of life).

A museum, 20 stories high,

florescent illumination,

liquid crystal displays,

as if to say:

"Defiance is our nature. Defiance of nature. To live forever..."

The human life is natures gift, but it's preservation is an art form of metal and wheels. Is this where life should really begin? And end? In a prison of medicine?

I will do anything - anything - to stay alive.

Humanity lied when he said he didn't want to live forever.

AUGUST 28, 2009

XO

Eyes Buried In Sand

Eyes Buried In Sand... Off In Egypt Land

For forty years I slept

for forty years I wept

I'm buried in the sand

like God's people in Egypt land.

Without wings I fly

just takes some strength of mind

(strength of mine)

Yet maybe I lack the strength

to lack such dreams

to lock such dreams

away with evil things

where they belong

just takes some strength of mind

(strength of mine)

there is none to find

cannot hide

away; outside

of the dreams in which I reside

You only exist

in my mind

(in mine)

you only exist

in my mind

(water into wine)

someday you will find

nothing is inside

so whenyou'reinabind

a sickness undefined

it's just water/wine

your friends already dine

with the ghost that you hide

so you may unwind

everything is fine

[a feeling so pure]

a lover so kind

[someday you will find]

nothing waits behind

[this death you fear]

in YOUR mind

(once in mine)

WHEN YOU WENT TO EGYPT LAND... WHO WAS THERE, HOLDING YOUR HAND??

-in your mind-

(once in mine)

XO

8/23/09

The Insomniac's Prayer

Save me, save me!

My eyelids are growing heavy.

My body becomes weary.

It's a sign.

Every time I sleep I dream.

And every time I dream I die.

Fire & brimstone – my pillow.

The gateway to hell – my sheets.

I don't dare close my eyes.

I fear the world.

Deliver me from evil;

deliver me from my dreams:

THIS I PRAY.

XO

8/23/09

The MALL OF AMERICA

The Mall Of America

The nation's biggest panic attack,

waiting to happen.

Crowds. Crowds. Crowds.

It's Saturday at the Mall Of America.

Tens upon thousands show their faces -

buying their clothes

bringing – (sometimes beating) – their children

spending their money in this miniature ecosystem of mass chaos,

maybe not even controlled.

10% off means 10 thousand customers.

20% off means 20 thousand customers.

“Buy one, get one free”... the people swarm.

A sale is a sale,

and as I lay trampled by the feet of the crowd,

a stampede of humanity...

oh, the greed of humanity...

XO

8/22/09

"Inspiration"

Inspiration

is a gift

to us it was given.

It comes and goes, but as the wind blows, the best lines are written.

Like the wind:

we write the best lines

No one finds their inspiration by living the perfect life.

No man with his American Dream will bring new colors to the table.

There is no such thing as an artist with a perfect life.

Those who fight... Those who struggle... Those who suffer;feel pain.

The

starving

artist,

rather.

The painter paints her best work when she is:

uncertain

unloved

unhappy …

Such conditions fuel creativity. They are inspiration.

And as the wind blows, we write the best lines yet...

XO

8/22/09

First Post - A short poem about myself...

If/When I Reach Happiness

In a dream I walked across the sea

I found my way to your sinking ship, your fishing boat,

and I calmed the night's treachery [storm]

Just for you.

I am no Savior, nor do I wish to be...

Am I normal?? Am I average??

My mind is bathed in chemicals – natural & synthetic.

Rarely do I possess a firm explanation of myself.

(my thoughts

fears

desires)

(my personality and my definition)

The emotions I feel are in need of interpretation...

to be re-formatted. Thus, I write.

There is a difference between words and emotions-

emotion is basic; primary.

Words are created to describe these feelings.

When I feel sadness, for instance, my face shows it. However, if I am on the telephone with someone (just and example)...

I must use words.

“I am SAD.”

Regardless of the medium used to convey my sorrow, I have found it (sadness) to be the normal me.

Am I normal?? Am I average??

I leave a trail of breadcrumbs behind me as I journey. If/when I reach happiness, you can count on there being a map I have made...

for you and your friends.

Am I normal?? Am I average??

XO