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Amuse Me With Invasive Questioning C: http://formspring.me/PolaroidProdigy

Love At First Sight

  
  The world is so plightless and stiff. No room for lacing hands or hearts.Then, you walk into the warmth of God's love, seaping out of peoples pores, making your spirit tingle, giving you hope for humanity. A love at first sight, for all who see you. A single day, a short night, singing carols, sharing laughter and speaking openly, knowing each question was asked with purpose, open to hear the answer; eager to know more about you. You'll never find this in the open air or society. I swear it, because I live in it, just like you. So many faces, each day, sharing fake smiles and handing out status-quo fabrications of reassurance: "how are you doing?" "I'm doing good." You're burning inside, wanting a hug, craving a word of kindness, yet, you dare not answer differently; you'll find that you've deleved into waters that you were not being welcomed into. it's called rhetorics. We learned this early and it's been chiseled into us, just like the Pledge Of Allegeince and saying "God bless you!", when you hear a sneeze. Methods, habits, movements that mean almost nothing, when we blurt them out.
     I suddenly feel happy. An emotion that has dissipated slowly, over  the last two years. My heart broken and the overwhelming notion that I might walk the streets alone, when I stumbled into this congregation, almost by accident. Today was a cool breath of air, filling my lungs with the sweet sense of friendship. "I can feel it in my bones.", you've heard it said, bones are no good if you lack direction. Let's take a walk.

Thanksgiving

Pour out your heart, for a moments praise, you of selfless thanks. Did you know that we made up this holiday? No celebrations, no gathering, no swapping of jovial thanks over full plates. Just another day to be merry over conquered days and hardships softened. Whatever the real story, for they are plenty, we can not pin-point precisely. Today, nonetheless, is Thanksgiving. We have made it a day for families. A day to recall the year and spill our thanks onto each other. "I'm thankful for family." "I'm thankful for my health." "I'm thankful for my freedom." We gush, with glowing eyes and genuine smiles as the table agrees with us. You're praised as if you were the first to give thanks, for such things, even though, they're the same cliches that everyone else in the country fumbles out, in an attempt to dodge any sort of creative, genuinely thought out answer. What are you thankful for? Think carefully, thoughtfully and quickly. It's not the SATs. There is no right answer. Eat your food, if you must, engorge your self with pumpkin spiced everything and gravy's galore, but, be thankful for something, please. If you're of the millions who drudge to airports out of duty to the holiday's name and place, carry on, I'm not speaking to you. To you 'Puritans', (ignorant, by the way, to any sort of history of such, who could not celebrate the simple birthday, let alone, this holiday), take part in the festivities and tell me; Why give name to this holiday? Why once a year are you forced to rack your brain for mundane everyday answers. Give lightly, people, everyday be thankful. You've so much to say for it. Not only on Thanksgiving.

Winter

Angry spite brewing all summer.
Flourishing fury, pinching at the seams of autumn.
Breaking the canvas, unable to contain all chaos.

Crystal splinters devouring my face,
pulling my hair, tripping my feet.
Whistling wind whipping through skeleton branches,
no chance to rest in peace.
Burying every trace of Summer,
sealing it in an icy grave.

There's an eerie fit of silence;
stillness unexplained.
The sky sewn shut by blankets,
warming us for the show.
They dance with no purpose,
float with ease, plummeting with urgency.

I embrace what's left of my nonage,
shoving all nubile prospects aside .
Dancing like a child, lapping the silver flakes,
rolling in it's powdered bliss.
The best gifts are ones intended for the worst,
that you've happened to make better;
Moments just like this.

Not That But This

Did you know that I can hear through cracks,
make memories grow like weeds,
burrowing your brain, dropping little seeds?

Have you ever given it a thought; perhaps it isn't words,
it isn't voice, it isn't lips, it's utterly absurd.
You'll flap your mouth and gush and goo,
yip and yelp and gawk and coo,
all against the world and only about you.

Could you breathe against the window please'
look and search for truth,
blowing kisses to the skeleton trees,
drawing hearts and stars and other signs of youth?

Don't tell a lie to gain a truth, don't give a hug to gain a kiss,
you'll break a bond and break a heart, then left alone, un-missed.

I killed a bird without a stone,
I crushed his wings with my fist,
then I smoothed it's wrinkled parts and on it's papered wings a list:
"When folding origami cranes, don't  think of that but this."

Stepford

Go ahead, take over, could it be so bad?
He'll look at me with longing;
though my eyes will be barren, he has me in mind.
She walks like a panther and has a grin like glaciers. You love her.
'Why would you cry, my dear?
He want's you now, be glad it's not someone else.'
Is there a place, where they exist? A place where we exist?
A place where they can save my life and grant all of his wishes.
Peel my flesh and put her in my place.
Do what you will, I'll not make a sound; unless you want me to.
My thick waist will vanish, my makeup smears fixed,
My voice will be unheard and my legs will be your puppet.
Take me in your arms and I won't disappoint you.
Isn't it a wonderful thing, having no accountability?
Stories are a cruel thing, you know.
Stoking your desires then extinguishing all possibility.
I promise, love, if there was a place,
We'd be on the next flight to Stepford.

Until then, I'll make due.

A Million In A Million

You swore. You swore on us, which turned out to defeat its purpose. You told me you loved me and let me suffer through the years, knowing it would end. You swore. You swore you didn't need more than me, then you sucked the beauty out of all who passed, and refused to see how it, also, sucked the beauty out of me.

"Why would I want to be with this?" The words saturate all my vital organs, making them throb and bleed. You made me like this, why didn't you just keep loving me? Was I that boring?

I can see you, in the future. I can smell  their perfume and I can hear your words, whispered softly in their ear, "You're the most beautiful girl I've ever been with." But, you were with me. Will you tell her that you cried over me, drowned by misery and longing? Will you explain that you loved me more  than any human should love anything? Will you admit that you lie, or rather, promise with no means of producing? Will you tell her that you broke me, because you didn't want anything else to touch me...?

This is the end for me. I can not breathe another day, wishing I was something. The something, that many have told me I was, then left me standing, solitary, to find something more astonishing, whatever it may be. I can not live in a world where men lust after guilty pleasures and can not bear to think of anything that might be called monogamy. You're foolish. You will never find anyone like me, and perhaps that's the thing that, to you, is so appealing. No one will love you the way I love you. Never. I'd die for you, kill for you, suffer for you. Do not say your sorry, when you're hands left me for dead. Your promises destroyed me.

It's Yours

She coughed up blood-clots, wiping their trace from her lips.
"Now, that's impressive."

He smiled at her, licking his fingers.
"This won't hurt a bit, but maybe a little."

She clenched her teeth and dug her nails in his neck.
"Make it stop."

Flesh tore like paper and nerves clenched like fists.
"May I keep this?"

Her eyes fluttered shut as the lights flickered into darkness.
"Yes."

Crimson hands clutched her beating heart;
He raised the muscled mass to his lips.
"Don't cry, my love, it's only a heart."

//Silence//

The Wind From My Sails

I can only dream little dreams,
Swallow skyscrapers and fold paper seams.
I'm allowed but a small spoon of sugar,
Hollowed out eggs, dripping yoke, losing figure.
Keep your eye on the prize, there's the trophy ahead,
Catching light in your eyes, burning your eyes red.
Where the sycamores grow, you'll find lavish lands,
Scavenging berries and roots with my bare hands.
There's a penny tucked in my loafer, just in case--
In case, there's more time to catch a breath in the midst of this race.
And in the night there was a tapping on the pane of my window,
Harassing my sound dreams where made up things unceasingly grow.
A wise old bird winked at me and sang me back to sleep,
Where I found myself unable to stop the weeping that I weep'd.

There's a wind in my sails dragging my journey out far,
Far away from the land where the wild things are.

You Can Keep This

Does it matter that your hand print is permanently seared onto my flesh?
Does it matter that history has been corrupted by our existence?
Will you mourn the death of us, even when we've been dead for ages?
Is there sadness where there is anger and regret?
How will you remember me?
Beautiful and excitable... a harpy and a monster?
When will you forget? Instantaneously? Eventually?

Will you find her?
Your prized possession? Your trophy... Your bragging right?
Will you love her more than me? Hopefully... Probably.
Is there more you can be with her, that I stifled?
Can you be the person you couldn't be with me?

Will I replace you? Never.
Are there moments I can replace? Never.
Is there another place, I'll find, that I can call home? Never.
Will I return to your arms? Never.