(no subject)

[lunesque]

I want to write, but the words aren't coming. The tips of my fingers itch and tingle and remain unhelpful, moving too quickly across the keyboard and it's times like this when I understand that the BACKSPACE key is really one of my best friends.

And my pen refuses to slide smoothly over paper any more, too busy spurting out the lifeblood of its broken blue arteries to care that I am trying to create. That I'm trying to be more than myself for a moment. And this is a reason so many dreams die before reaching the light.

I traced the edge
and discovered
that my life
could be summarized
on the back of a receipt
that said
NO SALE
PLEASE COME AGAIN.

Comments

[on-the-cusp.livejournal.com]

(and i can see you,
sitting forgotten and fraying at the edges;
crumpled in on yourself, bitter
and wondering if the reason
they give up so easily, never returning
to linger over the new merchandise
(blue sweater smiles and redwarm hugs
and flashes of yellow in the
accidental brushing of fingers),
is because they don't have to take you home,
try you out, to see that you are already

broken.)

[moriavis.livejournal.com]

They don't hear the sound of my voice any longer,
entranced by the music of greater things.
(I am not great, after all,
I am less than
and it's not so much that they've forgotten where to look
it's that they don't care enough to turn their heads.)
So I find myself left alone,
fingers trailing over fleeing coattails
and for once I think the silence is too loud.

I might be already b.r.o.k.e.n.
yet I would break again for you.

[on-the-cusp.livejournal.com]

sometimes i think we
c a r e . t o o . m u c h
when other people can't meet our eyes and
what are they seeing when they
aren't avoiding our shallow gaze and
what's so much better, out there
because i sure as hell can't see it.

but they never look back, their necks
permanently twisted away and
(why can't they look at me?)
we have no part of the setting sun
we are born to the sun rise and
burnt to ashes and dust before the first rays ever
hit the earth and they would
breathe us in, never knowing.
but maybe i am too full of dreams, i have lost
t o u c h . with reality -
but i can still find your
hand in the dark
and that is all i need to get through
t o m o r r o w.

and if you break
i will hold your pieces together
for another day.