Complaining sort of.

I've got a sore throat.. It hurts like no other.

I haven't written in a while. Musical took up a lot of time. anyway. here goes.

Sometimes i wish i were a tree..
They stand with their toes oozing through the mud
perfectly content in their positions.
Everything is complacent except their many arms.
reaching, twisting, arthritic, yearning
addicted to the sky.

All a tree needs is the sky
Or no i guess it's really trying to get at the sun.
Never the less it's the one and only thing it wants.
I wish i only desired one thing.
But who says where the sky begins?
who says you can't gather so much sunlight
that you might actually be holding a piece of the sun?

Whatever.
No one else knows anything.
I'll see it the say I see it.
I'll get through the way I get through.
I'll become what I become.

good thing that's easier said than done.
God expects God-like qualities to come out of me.
Do I look like God?
no..


I'm so tired. Exhausted through and through.

Relief

fingers dance
tapping, weaving through quick, fast, speed.
keep time keep time
tap tap tap
not one before the other,
fingers must express
through nothing but a morse code
tap tap tap
one must not go ahead of one's partner
fingers dance, pounding the alphabet
taps scream the soul of the instructor
dancers, tapping til they bleed
insanely working through the night
must get this out
accomplish this
this is our identity,
this piece of art,
this masterpiece.
it is me and i must dance it out
i must tap it out
i must write it out before i blow into a million pieces.
fingers dance a routine
not otherwise open to the world
tapping releases, dancing expresses, paper consoles.

Ice

She froze
Her eyes were left surviving
Ice encasing a statue
Inside, a blushed, thudding heart
Years of yearning

Glaciers eroded,
but by the next winter had refrozen
A gentle climber rose to meet her
Admiring her majesty
he hiked and pounded
and stabbed at the ice
to unearth the beating echo that only he heard

Then at last,
He breathed a sigh of near hopelessness
so warm, the ice melted
and her pounding heart was his

Fragility

You're wondering if I'm broken
Ok then, yes, I'm broken
As the splitting ground who thirsts,
Waiting in a daze as mirages dance,
Shivering despite the sunshine
Tearing deeper through me
Are those who push their luck,
For there's nothing here,
I'm dry, empty, and broken

You want to ask, am I broken?
Well, of course, broken
As a shattered glass
Once holding a sweeter wine
With twinkling screams I hit the floor
And flowing from my severed body
Leaked trust for the hand of my master

If I'm broken
It must be the betrayal
Of time's end to those
Who had wished to make amends,
As well as the victims of such regrets
Time knows no limits,
Yet our limit is time.

If I'm broken
It's with shed tears
From wounds that no stitch can sew,
Wondering in pain whether healing
Will arrive before hopeless resignation

Why, and How come..

I want to spend an eternity with my husband.
Not "til death do us part"

It is as easy for a blind man to get to heaven,
as it is easy for a camel to go through the eye of a needle.

When girls say they want to marry a rich man or that they won't marry the guy they love til he's rich, I feel like slapping their faces and yelling at them for being so superficial..
but I don't because I'm a coward.

I'm scared to be blinded by my desire to be married that I commit to the wrong man.
It happened to my mother, it could happen to me.

How come when you quit looking is when you find?
How come you don't find happiness until you've gone through pain?

I've heard songs saying that the answer to the hardest questions in life, is love.
How come love isn't the answer to my questions?
It's always much harder and much more complicated than just love.
Though love in itself could quite possibly be the most complicated thing in existence.

Why am I the type of person to see things from a negative point of view..
How come everyone else has a relationship that works and I don't?
I just want to scream FUCK MY LIFE and every other four letter word I know.

Why does everything have conditions?
Why can't it be straightforward and not so tangled in messes of pasts and judgments..