Chapstick & chapped lips & things like chemistry.

Poems Going Sideways for Books Printed in Wingdings November 6, 2011 at 12:39am "This is the anthemic serenade to a girl, from the part of her that isn't enough for herself, about the parts of her that are too much for other people. And we're not going to sing it, because it doesn't even need to be said but for some reason we're writing it down. You ruminate wearily over the way you want to be loved. It's got to be verse, and it's got to be clever, and it's got to be melody. You find in yourself at once both an envy for others' companionship and a bubbling distaste for the entire idea. You are proud and haughty and quiet and quick and alone, preferably. You allow yourself caffeine over sleep, alliteration over rhyme, preoccupation over vocation, and an internal sense of commitment to everything which does not ask it of you. Your eyes talk exhaustion to your heart, which is distracted by the water cooler chatter of your mind. Your feet are frantic. This is the time to believe in more and do less. This is the time to be awake and running and happening - this is the time to occur. Moment for moment, instead of depositing soul into an emotional institution which is going to go bankrupt and never reimburse your abililty to feel, you should be touching and living and crying and breathing both out and in. Only registering exhales is only counting disappointment. Better yet, look around for the times that take your breath away. Blessings line your life, including a command to count them. It's about to be cold and you should put your socks on and your big-girl heart-armor and go into a new season with the hope that your shield breaks. Somebody could break your shield if you would only put a few cracks in it. However; such a subjunctive subordinates itself to your reality and you miss the spontaneity of living - however real or imagined it ever was." View all posts by andpantomime