God-Shaped Hole.

I want to....
fall asleep on the side of the world.
Walk a tightrope from dark to light.


Be silent.
For a long, long time.
Or forever.

I want to...
Sit and wait
For my hair to grow
Until it covers my imperfections,
and MS. concieved notions.



I want to...
Make them believe.
Because they never will.
They'll never see...

I'll never be
Mr. Degree...

Fair enough,
I want to....
But won't be.

"Do you ever believe?" she asks me?
"Believe what?"
"Well, in the trees." Matter-of-factly.
To note, she is three.
And already, probably
Smarter than I'll ever be.

I say "Well, what do you think?"

She whispers "You have to, there's voices in these."

I ask her "Do you believe in me?"
She screams a laughing scream.
Like the question I'm asking whole-heartedly,
has an answer obvious. Or funny.
Or both.

So I'm asking,
Do I believe in me?

I am learning to be silent.
As much as I can...
Anything I can Witness/Trust/Believe...
Any way I can participate.
Anything I can take
to make
myself
better.

I'll do it!
I am searching for
a future I can participate in,
A challenge, an adventure. A love, a life.

A reality that doesn't leave you in the storm but
Considers you a neighbor, a lover, a friend, a family
when the storm hits.
(and we all must collect our witts!)

As much as I can miss someone,
As much as I want them to miss me.


Our days seem short,
The trees seem awful tall,
And I guess I need to find a way


To Be.






(yaaaaaay rimes!)



I am learning
to be silent.

I have chosen a path of honesty and learning.
It is important to say,
I was not previously heading this way.

But today
I am choosing
a path of
Honesty and
Learning.

Selflessness and
Yearning.

A fight to break my
self-consumed hurting.
To become a person better

To be more than what I am.
No lies, no
Mis-treated and dis-oriented
truths.

Just....
I
Am
This Broken
Being
Before
You.

Sitting, looking, northward, forward...
Past the porch.
A mother walks by. silently.
With her bambies.
Her man makes his presence known, all three-point bucks of him.
I am a shadow of myself, so they pass without notice
Gus, the grumpy dog, stays silent,
Knowing I need to work towards my vigilance.

Sometimes, animals are our only companions.
Sometimes
Animal instinct
Teaches us to be brave
And silent.
And thankful.


I have to let go and give thanks
And hope that in this next chapter I can be
More honest.
More Brave.

Fight, but for myself.

I promised you, I'd be better....
I promised myself I'd be something
else.

Look down and listen.
"Be Brave"
"Listen More Speak Less"

I don't want to speak, anymore.
I don't want to listen If.....
More Anger, More sadness.

But this is my priviledge.
"Listen More, Speak Less"
"be brave"

I shouldn't speak, anymore.


----------------------------------------------------------------------

Just take the colors, girl.
Your resistance is your art.
Your healing will be found in your expression.

Your words fail.
You bleed silent.
Your art may not be much but
It speaks what you cannot.

Pink, blue, green.
Sunset-Ocean beach.
Pacific coast scene.

Glad to finally be.

Neon verde, BrownBlackGold.
Senoran saquero
Moments untold.

Lost in desert heat.

Long drive,
tough heart,
weak body, be strong.
deep heat, angry sun
make it through
Desert long.

I am old now,
I was young then
there is no place...
no space...
for my words


I am re-identifying
Solidifying.

There is a solitary place
Between Here and Home
I want to hold this space:

Not knowing.
Still hurting.
Still Loving.
Still grieving.
....
Still bleeding.

Hopefully, Eventually, Succeeding.

I want to go back a week
I want to go back a month (and a half, when I met you)
i want to go back 3 years and 2 months
Just to say:
"I'm not as weak as you think and I'm gonna survive your heartache."
No, fuck it. I want to go back to 17
And go through each one again.
Just so I can get the last word
On how I was .....

How I am

Broken, Tired, and Lost.

But With Hope.

everything relating back to angles,
i went out to pick flowers to put in a jar
by the refrigerator
for you to find when you woke up searching for orange juice
but you woke with me only
one foot in half a shoe,
and pulled me back towards you.
circular motions are a mystery to me.

day-old breath and fresh bread
the sun slices through at 115 degrees
you are in the corner on the 3-legged chair
i am on the floor trying to catch your attention
between scribbles on tracing paper.
i tried to tell you:
"the truth is, i sort of love you"
but all that came out was
"blah blah blah"

and i think its best i leave
before you have a chance to.

-------------------------------------------


----------------------------------------

stuck outside feeling the air
whispering all the lies that have since been made truths
watching her, asking "what am I not?"
knowing you to be only
fragmets of the words you use.
this is a storyboad for disasterous comic strips
or equaly useless things.

--------------------------------------------

and it doesnt even matter, anyway...does it?


you're still not listening.