My Pain Is Relative

A few months ago my brother asked where my blogging had gone?

I never responded.

Because I like to think it went somewhere.

I like to think that in the months I was silent,

you were aware...

Your Sister

I get the kids to bed.
I imagine myself falling apart when they are asleep. So they may still think I have it all together.
Such Innocence.
Their lunch divided into all pink containers of sweets and only their most favorite of foods.
Because their mother knows best, and often, and is always on time.

I get them into their beds and I race down to pour my words out.
Almost said, "my heart out." But, my heart is racing, beating too fast-
that I cant contain it and squeeze out words.
I can just push buttons.

Emergency Exits. Stop. Guilt. Sisters.

But, I am a mother first.

And I AM always there first.
I pull into the parking lot of my daughters school excited to see her every single day.
We have been apart for 6 hours and forty five minutes.
And every single day, I am the only mother brimming with excitement.

I have missed you, my daughter, for six hours and forty five minutes.

And my other two girls are still home bound. One is in school for three hours and the other hardly ever leaves my side.

Except now when they are in their beds, and I can be something other than their mother.
I can be someone I was before.

Your sister.

Minimum Payment

It all comes back in circles from here. Even the things we did not say. Even the words I dared myself to write.
Or right.
But it's all wrong and all not taken.
Because, I'm sitting here now- months after the facts.
weeks after the feelings.
Days,
moments-
seems like yesterday.
when it was long before this calender month.
And I'm eating the words I never said.
They taste like cardboard, cut up-
tiny,
to get it all down.

But, that's how it goes.
In circles.
From here.
From Now on.

Because we at least have to pay the minimum payment.
And this is my due.
Interest free.
This is my blog.

Read it.
Because in the missing pages of this blog.
Is the hardest cardboard to digest.

Hanging By A Word

My brother says we are hanging on just by words now.
And I understand.
The currency of having to say the right things, when you have already said all the wrongs.
And darkness always feels so much better than the light.
And you hang on because you believe it'll get dark again.
But, I don't.

I walk away,
and like to leave them hanging on to my words.
my thoughts.
my moments when I'm no longer in them.

But you are perfect, where I am short changed.
you are forgiving, where I am forever reminding.
You are angry, where I am even. in accord.
You are different, where I am always still the same.

My brother says we are pulling apart.
and hanging by words.

But, does he know which ones?

Push Ups

There are rules and you break them into pieces all around me.
I step on fragments that used to be wholes, and hearts..
and now they are shreds, sharp and pointed-
your finger aims where my heart rips.

"How is your exercise going?" You ask,
and I want to stop and move backwards.
Gain my ten pounds back.
stop driving half hour to my trainers house.
start eating Reese pieces in buckets.

You make me want to give up. gain weight and
shed my shit in your most favorite places.

But, I wont. Not this time.
Because I have done that all before. for you.
for those like you,
and I am doing this now for me.
and those like me.

Your finger is so accusing and maddening.
I can't help but feel it throughout my day.

It finds me and points,
and picks.

me apart.

Disappointed

You disappoint.
Like movie popcorn after I have inhaled it all.
Why would someone eat a bag with that much popped fat content?
Why?

You disappoint.
Like your bites when they leave no mark.
And only I know I have been bitten by you.
Why?

You disappoint.
Like my memories.
I remember it all.
The way I used to yell right the hell back.
But why?

When I can say calmly,
you disappoint.

Doesn't that hurt more then any words I can scream at you.

You disappoint.

Strapped In For The Ride

Life and death.
I ask my brother as we drive. Grilled cheese on our laps.
Feeding french fries to the strapped in kids.
Our restaurant on wheels.

"How do you cope?" I ask, "How do you keep your mind going throughout the day?"
and he answers,
"People can learn to live with anything."

Or die with everything.
still.
waiting.
for.
it.
all.

I am one of those people. I feel older than my 29 years.
I feel like a spokesperson and a sales lady.

Today, I am holding onto all the things I want to say.
And I'm selling you my peace of mind as a trick.

See, I can fool you too.

People can learn to live with anything. And I am learning.
I am following in everybody Else's footsteps.

my brother.
then another.
walking behind my sister.

If its true,
If we can truly learn to live with anything,
then why can't I?

Like Loss

Trust me. I have been there before.
Your story sounds so similar to the way I remember all the recesses in my mind.
Places I felt crammed into, defined by.

Trust me, I have laid in your bed.
I have sniffed at your sheets, trying to hold onto a scent I cant always be certain is only yours.
Perfume and Cologne are sold in multitudes.
you think its only yours, but it reminds me of someone else.

Trust me, I have clung to you.
My nails have left their mark-
and you feel it now,
only now that I am gone.

Trust me,
You will miss me in places you didn't know you could feel.

Trust me.
It will be so similar, but nothing at all, like- loss.

Trust me.
I have never fully trusted you.

No Excuses Here

She says, "say no once." And I nod like I understand. I back out of her driveway and drive backwards to my house. Going somewhere always takes longer. Coming back seems easier. I'm no fool, I know my way back home.
I know how to get there quick.
With her I try.
I spend one hour pushing myself to my max. Running in place never felt so moving.
I tire myself out, and to be honest I can get to Bathurst and still hear my lies,
Or the truth I wont speak.
"Yes," My nod agrees, "I will say no just once."

No.
Do not do this to me.
Do not make me watch those I love suffer.
Do not give me front row seats.
Do not make me look in the mirror and smile.
Do not leave me guilty for things I have.

No.
I can not say it
I can eat it. In double portions... with my favored feta cheese on top.

No.
I will not succeed.
I will exercise my hour away, but not the other 23.

No.
I can not do it.
I can not say no, not even once, out loud.

No,
No,
No.

It's so silent and pathetic the way "no" sounds in my kitchen,
With the sound of the oven humming,
and the dishes piled and discarded on my counter top.

No.
I did not say No even once today

Bridge Over What?

You are my bridge.
I could not have crossed without you.
I knew what was on the other side. Like rainbows and fairy tales, I don't believe in other peoples shit.
But, your hair smelled so nice.
I wanted to only write about my sister.
And scream.
Because screaming would give me a voice that can't be misunderstood.
"So that's how you feel. Why didn't you just say so?"
Because, I can write about all my words, and all my pangs-
but my sister.
She is untouched.

You are my bridge.
And I have crossed sides.
I look back and I don't remember not having you.
Did G-D send you looking for me?

Somewhere there is a girl and she is lost.
Find her.
And bring her across.

You are my bridge.

My husband lets you walk me across.
Because he can't.
Because he loves me too much to watch me bleed.
So, I smile for him to see me smile.
And I walk like I have poise...
but you know better.

Don't you?

You know that I have clung to you and made it seem like you needed me.
And I have told you things with a sideways look,
because head on the lights always blind you.

You are my bridge.

But I have to go back.
Alone.

Did you know that?
That I would cross with you, but have to go back myself?

Dragon Breath

Dragon Breath.
You breathe near me and I feel burnt.
Its in the way you inhale in my face.
Even your breath tastes like chewed up words, spit in my face.

A platter of food separates us,
but we are really worlds apart.
I sit still and swallow all my words.
They taste like hate and go down roughly.

I finish a bottle of water and still, I feel like it can come back up.
The water.
The words.
The way I swallowed the things I should have said.

"You can be our spy." You said.
Am I really not enough for you?

Your babysitter. Your garbage.
Your bag to punch and fill with anything.

Your nothing.

I carry my silence like a badge.
I am proud of all the things I never said.

They fill me with anger.
But, I am able to lift my head, look in your eyes-
and know I did not fill you with anything but my silence.

But then,
when I least expect it-
my own husband looks at me,
and finds me wrong.

And I cry.
Because I have done everything for you and nothing to you.
And all the ways I have sacrificed,
seem like nothing.

But, my dear-
If I stand up and speak.... I slay the dragon.

Are you ready for that?

wealth stored. never enough said.

We are all the same.
Our smiles are relative
"Are you really having fun?" We ask, "with me?"
Because we are that unsure of ourselves

We stand and eat at counter tops and feel like royalty.
We pinch for pennies and feel rich.
I repeat our jokes like they are gold,

increasing in value with each retold verse.

Realization

I do not know anyone like you.

I like myself least.

And I, I Like You Alot

You can not say it like you mean it.
because you mean less.
And I can run over words,
and fly over speed bumps,
with only vowels in my mouth and somehow I make sense.

Locked Out And Leaning Down

So I cant get into my blog. But that's OK. Sometimes the best view is from the inside out. The outside looking in. I'm on your computer and I'm enjoying the sound of your keypad. Its louder then mine and it makes me feel more like a writer and less like myself. I cant possible feel less then I do already. tonight I got invited out with my husband out of default and i turned him down. ...by that same default. He left me sitting on our front steps and i sent him out with all the reassurance i could muster. He collected them like bouquets of forgiveness. But only a man accepts potted plants as flowers. My words were rooted to my heart. He took my words, but he cant keep them. They are attached to my heart with strings. He will know this when he comes back tonight, and I look as if i have been pulled.
I am not yesterdays girl. I am ever changing. I am moving so fast away from who i was.
but I want to pause.
and rewind.
was that me today sitting with my father. making him pull his legs in, so i could mope by his feet. Not answering any of his questions. posing only rhetoric's.
What if? is my mantra now.
what if I could stare right back at my reflection. And hold my own gaze.
I am falling apart. Halves and quarters and divided in widths.

Visions Of You

I love you silently, but i have the strongest voice. I use it sparingly, when once it was all i had. I'm in my own kitchen and your talking down to me. I smell feta cheese and watch your tears pierce your eyes. I speak calmly but with certainty. You are wrong.
The world has wronged us, but you have added your own insults to our injuries.
How can my mothers purse on my counter, evoke such pain? How does my grandmothers bowl of jewelry make me wince? Wasn't I made stronger? I feel the only combat to my weakness is high fat and sugar intake... because it binds me to my own selfish thoughts.
I want to reach you and touch you and hold you....
but I'm chained with my food and weighed down with this guilt.
I want to touch you and hold you and reach you...
But I'm in my kitchen, an hour before our conversation. And in this hour before our conversation, things seem important when really they are insignificant. I should let you walk out without crying, but i have to fight for my fathers dignity... because it seemed important.
But its not.
Honour falls thought the cracks.
Love blinds you and leaves you alone.
Sex makes you move to places you would never have gone to alone,
food fills you and leaves you with no room for anything else...
and time.... moves on throughout it all.

The hour passes and you call.
I read my mothers eyes, before I even have to hear her speak.
I feel so close to you and yet I can't touch you.
Because space has pulled us apart.
We are in different cities,
and when I talk to you, I fall silent.

And then after,
I see it in every ones eyes.
My mothers calm and certain stare.
My brothers bewildered eyes.
Mine are scared and wild,
and yours I can not see.

I love you silently, from afar.
Choking on my tears.
Unable to see far enough.

resentment stuffed in the bottom drawer

When I resent you I'm usually on my knees somewhere. Tonight I was unpacking groceries and trying to get my industrialize size bag of carrots to fit into my refrigerators bottom drawer. You were eating potato salad out of the jar. Rendering it a single serving. You have these ideas and they are so big and I don't even hear them. Your telling me what to buy and my purchases are scattered across the shelves. Now, what not to buy. I feel like a child. On my knees.
My mother is making her motions over your shoulder. Warning me to behave. I feel like asking to be tucked in for the night. But, that would make me different them my siblings. I don't want to be different. I want to be able to stand shoulder to shoulder with my brothers and feel similar.
But I'm spending myself away from them.
Elbow noodles. Can we really have a conversation about how they are the kosher pork of passover?
I remember how my mother speaks. Her words always catch up to me.
Tonight she said how she feels embarrassed. Or, she should feel embarrassed.
And that her rabbi said in astonishment, "embarrassed?" And he laughed.
"You know who should be embarrassed, people who sin! That's embarrassing!"
And then I'm on my knees again.
Your right.
And I am always moving in so many wrongs away from you.
I have found that if I stand up slowly I can stop my resentment from rushing to my head and blowing up all sorts of proportions.
I can see things clearly.
But sometimes resentment is better then clarity.
Because clarity feels a whole lot like guilt.
The carrots have somehow squeezed themselves into my bottom drawer,
and when I stand up slowly,
I see you seeing me.
And I'm ashamed.

Chicken Finger Cop

I look forward to looking back.
Not through rear view mirrors. Because, then you would have seen the cops lights flashing.
But with you in my mind.
I will look back and see your eyes smiling. Mine smiling back.
Laughing like teenagers who have just gotten caught speeding.
Yet, we drove too slow,
sat too still,
found the sauce sticking between our fingers-
and our laughter fogging the windows.
I will look back with longing. I will turn my entire body back- to catch the way we have started to grow old together.
Some people have memories. We will have living memories.
Because whatever we have done together- we will do together again.

Re:

V necks plunging.
Rules reiterated.
Things that are forbidden:
my sisters boyfriend.
Late nights at the park.
mixed swimming venues.

Hearts racing.
Reasons repeated.
Things that are forbidden:
Television.
Magazines.
and talking like you have doubts.

Foods crammed in.
Alcohol revisited.
Things that are forbidden:
Pants,
Short sleeves,
and dressing like you dont know better.

Fears unfolding.
One Lie retold.
Things that are forbidden.
Taste better,
feel faster.
and make you move.

Oven Ready

In Your absence I grow stronger.
I hear the words falling around me.
Nothing seems to touch me,
I touch them.
Beneath me their words crumble.
Like cake, yes... maybe.
But, so what if I have had my cake and eaten yours?
Food is my fault.
The rest is theirs.
Didn't you tell me once how "they" are "everywhere."
You are not here.
I stretch out on our king size bed.
I make my mornings without you.
I fold my afternoons into halves,
quarters and then minutes.
It's fifteen minutes to bedtime and I'm embaressed when I notice I'm counting down.
But also counting to you.
My love for you is even in your absence.
In the messages we do not send.
In the way I am better because you have held me.
And loved me,
even for nights spent away from you.

Thanks For Coming

Shame is free.
It's like a party favor in your house.
"Oh your leaving?" you ask me, "dont forget this."
And then before I know it, Im holding my insecurities in my hands.
My weight, my looks, the way "mine" is always "yours."
Is this some sort of loot bag?
Exploding in my face?

Predictions

You are predictable.
The sad drives I take can never get me far enough away from you.
But tonight,
amidst the noise,
the empty gas tank signal,
my phone battery going critical.
I had my own little prediction.
Fancy that.
It was the summer and we were apart.
And all your little declarations of love,
were nothing but just that.
Little.
And I said,
maybe not far enough away.
But, oh! so predictable.

Can I Ask You To Say A Few Words For Me?

You ridicule me.
Your sentence just starts travelling and I explode.
Your hands on my shoulder massaging an ache...
and I turn on you.
My eyes more green then grey.
My "What?" has more spit in it than force.
But I want to say "Why?"

"What did you just say to me?"
That's a question you can repeat.
But "Why did you just say that to me?"
I'm not sure you really even know.

We make ourselves excuses,
and then we drape ourselves in them.
But, I want you naked.
Stop hiding. Excuse yourself.

Come out and let me ask you why?
Why?
And in your answer I will dress you the way you appear to me.
Red.
Because you are bold, where I am weak.
You are sure, where I am uncertain.

And repetitive.
Why?
Why?
Why?

Love Leaks

Love leaks.
I've always thought that.
You can have alot. You can feel like you couldn't possibly love him more. Harder. Deeper.
You walk around with the smile of satisfaction filling your face and everyone knows your in love.
But, try just once to transport it and it leaks.
I loved you in Toronto,
I carried my love in what felt like Ziploc bags, piled high in my arms.
This is how I love you, I seemed to say.
Labeled reasons not ever enough to show you just how much I cared.
But we travelled too much.
You didn't always sleep in my bed.
Your face had marks from the couch,
telling me how comfortable and just how close you got to the leather.
Love leaks.
Slowly,
And before I knew it, Some of my bags had nothing in it.
Just labels on empty Ziploc bags.
"Your smile" says one. And I try to remember.
Did I really love your smile once.
Now it appears planned.
Always on your face before the joke even leaves my lips.
And love leaks,
You get as close as you can. You love as deep as you imagine you can go. You hold on.
You make promises.
But, then it starts to leak.
and trickle out.
And we look up, into each others eyes...
and pretend we don't feel this wet.

There goes my time

There goes my time.

Alloted for and spent with sunshines and tangled knots in my daughters hair. The sand inbetween my toes and on the bottom of my pants. The way you look at me beneath your sunglasses. The sun keeps setting, till there are no more. You point out an eclipsed moon, but i will catch it later.

All later.

When im sitting down and my knees cant reach my chest. And my chest seems gripped with a spasm or an ache. But it's not right. And I like to imagine how i will be remembered.

In black. Happiest with my kids.

my blackberry got me used to life with no periods

my brother said,

"write it all down. there should be nothing that embarrasses you."

i agree

then turn red.

and away

from places we might never drive to together

alone i go so fast

past places i used to recognize

then forgot

with a soundtrack of sadness

and a bag of tears

unopened

on the passenger seat.

"write it all down"

i agreed.

it embarrasses me.

Its The Eyes Or Its The Child

I see it in their eyes.

The look of satisfaction in their artwork.

Then pride when you conceede in its beauty.

The shared way my kids smile with me,

and how I cry when they cry.

Maybe not a flood of tears and the feet stomping motion-

but I feel my heart being squeezed by their little hands.

I see it in the way their eyes find mine,

when we are in a crowd of people-

they search for me.

I like the way their smile breaks when mine just starts.

And we see each other, clearly- with just a glance.

When its bedtime,

and I'm sharing my bed with just one of them,

I like the way they see me in the dark.

Their feet find my face and i smile at the size of them.

Growing to walk away from me.

I can love deeply, madly and often.

I can stepped on and thrown away,

I can get told off, cursed at and spit on-

but I wont get scared off.

Because in my eyes it all unconditional.

And all for you.

Because I'm the One Who Leaves You Lonely

You are my misery. A love that comes around knocking.
Of course I just have to open the door.
And your standing there in your jeans. Hand picked by me. I knew they would hugg you.
"One second," I say, "come on in, ill be right back"
But, I never return.
Not for you. Not for me to hear you say you love me,
not for us.
You end up letting yourself out.
And I don't hear the door close behind you,
because in my heart now you make no sounds.

White Flag Waving

I like to think I am guarded. By my faults. I never get to close, without setting myself apart. I will always be eighteen in my mind, making the poorest of choices on an empty stomach. And the only thing that separates me from my crazy, wild, friends- is my family. I have a place to go home to, no matter how late and how hard I have fallen. I can come home masked in shame and my family will still recognize me.
I can touch and be touched and fold my hands in shame. I can stand with my feet spread wide apart and my hands stuffed in my pockets. Scared someone will catch the way I am starting to rot. But, my family will wash my hands for me. Scrape at my pains, rinse, repeat and find the person I am underneath.
All week long I can sin the sins of disregard and intentions. And on Friday night I can spread my feet out to be massaged and ask for forgiveness. Explained.
Forgiveness explained.
Its that powerful.
I can travel the world and start only at 17. I can make new friends and break away from old ones. I can grow wide, and hide underneath only black clothes- but my family will still find me and bring me back.
Its a love no one takes back once it's given. Its unspoken and still screaming in my ear.
It why I know I will be OK.
But, this week- I tripped.
I feel so flat on my face, I couldn't hide the look of surprise I must have had.
And they didn't have to ask, they knew...
I fell so unbelievably hard.
I got caught missing you in bursts or sadness,
solitude,
pangs,
my spaces,
and then the ones I share.
I was so embarrassed to find myself caring this much.
And I came home, looking miserable and torn.
My family didn't say anything.
They washed me off and held me close.
They strung their fancy words like ribbons through my room-
you are,
you will be,
you can,
you will.
And I know that I am nothing by myself.
And only,
always,
a part of this amazing family.
I feel like holding up my hands
to show you I have surrendered.

My Brothers

When I am with my brothers I can't help but feel special. I think other people must notice how I shine. I feel safe in their shadows. They are funnier, smarter, kinder and safer then me. If I can just let go and hold on to what they have- I can survive this ordeal. I try and catch the way their eyes look down, because I want to see what they are so transfixed with at their feet. I cant get my head out of the dark clouds.

What do you want from me? I can only hurt you with my lack of faith. It can only let you down. I see your motherhood and the way it works. backwards. Like clockwork. You were never there when we were little. Your face was always in a prayer book and now it seems you have memorized it all by heart. You have everything you need to slumber through this nightmare- and the rest of us- we have to walk, fully awake, like zombies- through hospital corridors. I know my sentences run on. I have said it before. My lack of intellect sets me apart from my brothers. In scrabble games. In conversations. In hospital waiting rooms. I am always a brother. Its like the sisterhood didn't fit me well and i never tried this on for size. But now it fits. Being with my brothers has always been the safest place for me. One brother came up to me when I was praying the names of the righteous and he asked me, "Are you really going to do that? Do you really think saying names is better then saying psalms?"

Is that a question I look like I could answer? My faith has finally caught up with me and it is too little to make me run. I stand still and look at other peoples faith, marvelling at my own. My mothers looks interesting. Its bullet proof, a blend of blindness and dare I say stupidity. My brothers are classical. The eternal student.
One repeats "this is so difficult" like a mantra.
I have my own catchy phrase, but I was raised to well to repeat it.

Forget Me

Lately, I feel like letting go.
Because the weight of the world, should not fall on my shoulders.
and you know you let go first.

I followed.
Ava says I never followed anyone,
and i danced like no one was watching,
because no one was.

Unlovable, its my mantra,
my tune.
The saddest love songs play in my ears,
because you never run as fast,
as when you are being chased.

I feel like giving up,
if it didn't feel like i was giving in.

But you did it first.
You were silent,
please in your silence,
can i be forgiven?

forgotten.
and then gone.

Thought I Heard You Cry

Sadness built itself up in me. It wasn't always beneath the surface.
"I am uncharacteristically, boldly, unequivocally sad. That's how I feel." I said. Then I piled towels and water bottles into a stroller and went to watch my kids swim.
I am dressed in black, but my insides are palmed, falling in tears down my face.
I think the saddest thoughts and then I think about you.
I pull at my black tee shirt, I imagine it off.
I would swim the length of the pool and then back.
I would stay under and hold my breath till I knew my kids were searching for me,
then I would reappear and smile.
"I tricked you." I would say and we would laugh.
I am so painfully dry, it hurts when you enter.
I watch the kids swim and marvel at the water.
I stay dry, sane, and then sad hits me.
I wipe at my eyes,
I read my book even though the page is blurry.
I hide.
Sadness built itself carefully, so as not to stir any attention.
And my mother and husband say, "let it all out..."
But, I haven't the chance to.
I bottle my emotions back up,
I press pause,
then rewind...
and wait for someone to play me again.

You Missed Me

I was walking with you when I noticed you had let yourself fall out of step. You casually slowed down and I continued and only when I started to wipe at my almost always dry eyes, did I realize why. In you slack you were leaving me to pretend I was not hurting. You were saying with your body what you have never said aloud. All my fears, the building of my forts, the way we slip in and out of our shades- and then It came to me in sudden waves of discomfort. A tear, the tears. By the time you caught up to me, our lives had resumed its shape. A puzzle refitting to let no one notice its missing one piece.

Not Going Anywhere Fast

It's a vacation, Damn it!
It implies things. I want to run my hands through my hair and then I remember it's not my hair. I want to tell you to get lost, but then I can't find my voice. You make me something I am not. Over and over again. I don't recognize myself when I am telling you things. I put myself in so many places and always down.
Everyone has a somebody and I am yours. Well yours and anyone Else's. I don't play games. I just lose them. First the pieces, then the box. Then I just stand there- with the instructions, and look over the french side. It's easier to not understand what they want from you.
What don't they want from me?
I feel like they will take what ever they can. My peace. My time. My solitude. My motherhood. I am nothing but who they need me to be at that moment.
It is something I was looking forward to.
Now back.
I try and remember how I felt before this.
I felt like I was planning something and it was so unique and different- because this thing I was planning was for me.
Now, it is for everyone but me.
I think at times I know my worth,
I see it in the way I am pushed and pulled on.
Pennies really.
And who counts the pennies,
when all the other coins look so shiny and new.

Your Subtle Positioning Of Self

You were always neat. Orderly. You had a small bag. You kept your things inside. You needed a small space. You didn't like clutter.
Breath.
Imagine it has nothing to do with you.
I picture my chaos and the way in envelops you. My Shit disturbing you
I smile at her.
"I know, I know," my smile says, "He was neat before me."
How do I say that in a smile?
I just do it with a smirk and a confused look.
Where you trying to hurt me? My eyes ask.
Or is it really so fascinating to you how neat he used to be.
It's a past I can't compete with.
You only knew him then.
I was pretty fucking unbelievable myself- but you wouldn't know that.
I was healthy and ate three meals a day.
I was perfectly composed, amusing even. I was energetic and full of ideas and sometimes those ideas woke me up at dawn.
You wouldn't know it.
You see me as something broken. You see my body and all it's faults.
I smile.
Sometimes I like it so messy that he loses his stuff in it,
...and then himself.

R.S.V.P

Frozen Eclairs can be the theme. I imagine a party hosted and only frozen eclairs served. Someone would say "But, aren't these meant to be defrosted." And I will look up in wonder. I thought the term frosted could mean more then just the chocolate glaze.
I don't want to have to be explained. I ask my brothers for some diet coke and they drive across town to a twenty four supermarket. They come home with frozen things. Fish sticks, Eclairs, ice cream - the only thing casually warm- is my diet coke. No pretenses- I'll drink it without ice.
I ask for my i-pod and watch the room without it's sounds. I hear the music and pretend I can write louder then my thoughts. Angrier. Run right the hell off with my sentences. Oh, how they run on and on.
I turn myself off just before I might turn on. You mistake my touch for want. I want the lights on. I want to see. I want to not put a stumbling block by my feet. I want sound on my computer, a keypad that moves, a computer that doesn't need to think before I see my words hit the screen.
I want to unwind and never have to feel the strings pull me back in. I want sleep to hit me like little slaps across my face. Sleep, damn it. Relax. Lie down and close your eyes and just forget.
It's a party we are all one day invited to. Made to tell who called us in. Who asked us to show ourselves up.
And here I am touching thirty. Up on my toes, wearing shoes I never thought I would walk in. Not even for a day.
Serving only frozen eclairs.
What would you do if you could see me now? Would you close your eyes?
Or would you pull my hair back,
turn me around,
remove the frozen eclair from my hand-
and ask,
"Isn't there anything else to eat around here?"