not even Lennon.

http://www.hulu.com/watch/202400/waiting-to-inhale

incredible movie. really interesting.
made me think of what I may want to do with my life...
major in sociology and minor in like... something with drugs?
wa-whaaattt.(!)
nothing. I'm just (hello!!) happy and am thinking of the paths my life could take.

today broke my heart. won't be okay for awhile.
I'll be fine -- eventually.

(but I might need therapy.)

-- The boys are all over my room.
but somehow, even my John doesn't help this.

I always write about winter.

When it's here, it ravages,
and the winds howl with dawn of white.
Christmas lights with frozen shells,
hot coffee steam and lights remember.
I'm tired of the cold, she whispers.
it's always so empty.
the wrong arms, the wrong taste -
perhaps this past year has moulded us
into creatures we wouldn't recognize.
I don't want to see you, she says,
not like this - not reeking like this.
the cold bounds, and covers the world.
green was once dominant, right?
it's as if she forgets what's real.
(Run,) she hears, in the corners
of her conciousness.
(run.)

---- only one?!

green to fall.

Green to fall – much to be discussed,
she whispers, trying to remember her sounds –
How long since it’s felt right on my lips?
Grey to pink – I found your warmth, ah…
There it is. To speak again, gather that
warmth to let it spill – you’ll feel better,
Fall, fall, fall – too cold to breathe, is that
smoke or my breath? I have no hair -
fallen as the leaves, I cut to fulfill -
feel more like me, she whispers, fingers numb
and lips sticky with frost – remember?
so much concrete she stares at, huff,
puff – too cold to stay sane, alive – pink!
find me in this city, giant plucked and placed –
I, no, no face. Don’t I know you, mister…?
roots. I need roots. Water, partner, amie,
anything besides the cold – or is it smoke?
Here the skyscrapers turn their backs,
and somehow so do the people. Hiding gazes,
where – did you speak? This frozen city
has not welcomed me, or perhaps I see
too much concrete and not enough flesh.
we must always dodge the piercing
winds and howling glances.

Frank Sinatra.

In the past year, I have been through more than I care to remember. I have become an adult, graduated, moved on to college, loved intensely, missed profoundly, lost parts of my kin and parts of my heart. i have gained a niece, and been more adventuresome than I'd ever imagined. I've worked my ass off, directed a play, spent too much money, smoked too many cigarettes, and forgotten what it means to take nothing - and no one - for granted.

Frankly, this year was hell. The sequences of events, the decisions, the loss of trust, the loss of face, the loss of... myself. This past year has been one roller coaster ride. Of course, I'm still here, and in the end, is that all that matters?
I stand here, with nothing to show for except confusion, indeciseveness, and uncertainty. Nothing is any more clear now than it was years ago. I'm supposed to be older and wiser, right? I've know I've had wisdom for years, and yet - nothing to show for it.
Still? Really?
You'd imagine that eventually along the line I'd have something to show - a love, a dream, a goal, a purpose - a little bit of money, even. But I'm still here. Still waiting for a sign. until then, I'm going to learn the loneliness - learn the ambivalence, learn the uncertainty. because what else may I do? It all works out, in the end - maybe this year wasn't my year. maybe this was my hurt year. That doesn't mean next year will be..

oneword - Willow.

http://oneword.com

willow was a wanting woman, who wept for the waking and dreamed for the dying. greens and browns joined to become her, and she was all of them at once. williow was a wanting woman, who dreamed of the truth. and she wept for the ways of the world. she cried for the criers, and lept to the left-behind. willow was a wanting woman.

addiction.

Do you know what it means?
Darkness screams as nothing matters.
Lights flash in front of us, and the – the –

The sound. The sound screams silence,
As we all sit and stare. Hands pressed -
pressed against shatter glass.
We’re walking on shards of our own skin,

And vestibules of blood stain our nails.
sing me a lullaby of sweet surrender,
and forge me a sword of your hope.
I remember what it was like,
to be full.
but I have emaciated myself,
while feasting on the hurt.
I have emptied myself, and now – now –

Now that you wish I was full, I ask you.
Where were you when I was starving?
Where were you when I spoke?
Now that you wish I was full, I have to tell you -
You could have fed me, you could have offered me a breath –

And instead.
Here.
Tainted blood of summers gone,

And remainders of tattered nails that hang off my teeth.

Do you remember when you were full?
Because it has been so long, that I have forgotten –

I have forgotten why the full man cries, and why the dark dream fades.
I have forgotten where to put my feet, and where my head belongs.
I have forgotten you, and where you once were in my fingertips.

I have forgotten my very breath, and I wish you to know –

And instead.
Here.
A winter of broken hopes and broken throats.
how many have we hurt in our spree?

How many have we told to dream the dream,
to float in the clouds where no one dare come down?

How many have we told?
In and of itself, the clouds do not erode your lungs –

It is in the dying, and the waking, and the hopeless reasons –
in the throwaway of dreams, and the carelessness with which
you treat your hopes.
It is in the dying, and the waking – in the rebirth, that it comes.
And it comes with a darkness. A vengeance. A severity,

And a savagery.

It is me, but it is more than me –
I am it, but I am so much more –

It is not me, but I am it.
I remember green skies and rolling hills,
Blue grass and crystal lakes.
I remember the tangerine trees, and white horses –
But now, I am in a cage of bones, dripping bones, screaming bones –

That will only let me out once I bow to it.
And so I bow. I bow so that I may run.
so that I may be free.

Have you ever bowed down to your demon?