Rambling Somethings.

the-girl-anachr0nism:

Tue, 07 May 2013 16:07:21 -0400

"Your laughter rings; yellow, raw, and sour, Where you perch so high in my childhood’s tree. If you..."

Sun, 05 May 2013 19:27:26 -0400

“Your laughter rings; yellow, raw, and sour,
Where you perch so high in my childhood’s tree.
If you ever turned your lantern on
You would see this heart in my backyard,
That you dropped when you said
You could not feel love.
Relinquish me,
My Inevitable Fall,
Set me free from these thorns
You’ve surrounded my neck.
But you stay
And you laugh,
And I scream
Desperate cries,
I beg for your pity, for your mercy on me!
In this dark your eyes pierce
And my bare heart pleads,
Are you brave enough to leave
My tortured heart where it lies?
For you’re blind in this dark
(I’m not ready for light)
And those dangling feet will be the first
My rising sun meets.
But now the sun sets,
The darkest light hides my flesh,
From your selfish hold
And your unknowing jest.
Yellow, sour, and raw;
My fierce sadness, it falls.”

- My Blind Jester, May 2013

Tumi & the Volume- Signs

Sun, 05 May 2013 16:51:26 -0400

Tumi & the Volume- Signs

"My mother always found it funny How her father planted a tree Three days before running away -..."

Mon, 29 Apr 2013 18:42:20 -0400

“My mother always found it funny
How her father planted a tree
Three days before running away
- stolen by a woman with hate in her heart
and a few missing teeth -
But that tree stayed with my mother
Long after daddy chose to leave
So she says that tree
Is more brave than he,
or she,
or I will ever be.
For how many creatures
That can live and can breathe
Will stand and will stay
For the ones that leave?
No, to me it seems
The things that move
That do the most damage
And do the least good.
For you and I could go running away
But when the tree plants his roots
It is there he will stay”

- April 2013

Photo

Mon, 25 Mar 2013 21:05:33 -0400

Chris Enos

Tue, 05 Mar 2013 19:34:15 -0500

Chris Enos

"the darkness folds in on you tonight with such unforgiving gusts your eyes are closed already to..."

Tue, 19 Feb 2013 10:08:00 -0500

“

the darkness folds in on you tonight
with such unforgiving gusts

your eyes are closed already
to what has compromised your trust

but, fear, my blinded lovers
for love and life are not so kind

if you awake again tomorrow
buried love is all you’ll find

”

- february 2013

Photo

Tue, 19 Feb 2013 10:05:48 -0500

Violet was in the center of a fierce affair with a passion for life and the alluring whisper of...

Tue, 11 Dec 2012 19:11:00 -0500

Violet was in the center of a fierce affair with a passion for life and the alluring whisper of death. They fought for her attention, love hiding beneath the sheets of her bed while desolation filled the space in between. She, too, filled the space in between.

What filled her?

Violet felt empty. Her head felt heavy and slow, and her words had this tendency to escape from her mouth in a jumbled, frantic fashion. Violet sometimes wished she could just stop talking. Carry around a notebook, write down her thoughts. Clear and concise, no room to slip the things that had never meant to reveal themselves, so naked and restless.

Violet’s eyes were tired of all the seeing. The quilt that lay across her bed. The pine trees outside of her bedroom window — | | | — obstructing her view of the neighboring home. The colors of the walls of the rooms of her home. Beige and pastel. The people who filled her space and time. The polish, chipped, on her nails. The clothes and books that littered her floor. The hollows of her dark, tired eyes. She was tired of seeing what she was seeing. Of seeing all but feeling none. Of feeling something and nothing, all at once.

Her life often felt like one big leap from a never ending cliff. The bottom was too far to see. Just the same barren landscape. The cliff wall. The beige. The constant falling.

Violet was waiting for the landing.

Maybe, then, she would know what to feel.

december 2012

Photo

Tue, 11 Dec 2012 19:01:29 -0500

You are sparkling, fleeting As you ripple with the tide, Smooth is the back of the current To home I...

Thu, 09 Aug 2012 10:54:00 -0400

You are sparkling, fleeting

As you ripple with the tide,

Smooth is the back of the current

To home I will ride.

When the world flips back

And I turn off the light,

Smile to the darkness

Of a world not so bright.

As my setting sun whispers along

To the flowing of your current,

Sing a morning’s song for lovers gone

And the day can break anew.

august 3 2012

august 3 2012 Jamestown, RI

Wed, 08 Aug 2012 17:07:00 -0400

august 3 2012

Jamestown, RI

I found you when the stars were high up on their canvas, blinking and fluttering nervously as they...

Mon, 09 Jul 2012 15:58:00 -0400

I found you when the stars were high up on their canvas, blinking and fluttering nervously as they flirted with the sea. Your eyes were glowing as bright as the sun, surrounding me, so encompassing. Like a lover’s forbidden touch, those eyes, how they held me. And when I searched for an escape in all the wrong places, you held on still to me.

And as the iron waves swallowed the stars, as they tore down the canvas, as the water flooded our field and engulfed, defenseless, our bodies, your grip held fast. Our eyes danced as the stars fell around us. We jumped in puddles and skipped through the rain, the stars glimmering down with such maniacal glee.

And then

We, too, were taken down with the stars. I found you lying at the bottom of the world, your bold eyes glowing beside the fire. You were smiling when you looked at me then. You never let go, and we danced on still.

july 7 2012

Photo

Wed, 27 Jun 2012 23:55:40 -0400

Cold water against my bare, broken hands. Truly broken? Or more of an internal crack? My foundation...

Wed, 27 Jun 2012 17:24:00 -0400

Cold water against my bare, broken hands. Truly broken? Or more of an internal crack? My foundation had, essentially, been split after mere seconds, mere moments minutes days months, mere years, after an ever-growing eternity of me struggling to salvage my conceptual unity. The water eliminated all illusions. Spread, it did, from tip to core to the opposite pole, my being lay naked, as if born anew, to be exposed in its true identity. It is rare for such liberation to take place, for it is, indeed, just that. A liberating experience, to heal in some far-off sense, to expose your truly broken, intrinsic self. It is a risk, however. To open such a curtain is to be placed upon such a carefully conceived display of reality. Tip-toed around a regal pedestal of your own humility. A tower, of sorts. Even a mere, cool breeze will send your fragile frame tumbling.

june 2012

Blinded.

Tue, 26 Jun 2012 19:16:00 -0400

The vast

wild

uncontrollable water stands it runs it shakes before us.

For moments

minutes

years it stays in constant lucid thrashing eager movement.

Going.

Staying.

But flowing.

My heavy

darkened

fragile eyes,

How they protest against such

long

wide

far a distance.

Never has such a void been filled with such volume.

How it blinds

suffocates

it scares me, so.

june 2012

Photo

Tue, 26 Jun 2012 19:13:23 -0400

"I want you sleepy-eyed in the morning, waking at my side like a warm summer sky, born from so much..."

Tue, 26 Jun 2012 19:10:45 -0400

“I want you sleepy-eyed in the morning, waking at my side like a warm summer sky, born from so much softness the horizon cries every time nightfall comes to take you.”

- Andrea Gibson (via acynicalcunt)

Photo

Mon, 25 Jun 2012 20:22:39 -0400

Together they sat in the front seat of his worn, blue Chevrolet. It was full of age –...

Mon, 25 Jun 2012 19:03:00 -0400

Together they sat in the front seat of his worn, blue Chevrolet. It was full of age – the leather warm and cracked, the strangely comforting scent of cigarettes and freshly cut grass emanating from each crevice of the machine, as if it were being desperately pulsated from the tired vents, worn like smokers’ lungs. Her legs were pulled under her as she leaned back comfortably, watching him in the driver’s seat. He looked back at her carefully, his dark eyes brooding over her face, studying each inch of it with meticulous care. What did he see? she could not help but wonder. What was he looking for? She closed her eyes and listened to the music – a soft rock song, a famous tune that she probably should be able to identify, but, at the moment, could not. She was blinded by one single focus. Kiss me, the thought was playing melodically inside of her – not just in her head, but vibrating and bouncing and rolling over and under and around and through all of her being, interweaving within her, repeating itself in some sort of torturous chant.

But he never did – he never kissed her, never touched her, just watched. He watched her fragile features contort nervously as she laughed, her eyes glitter as she told him all about her hopes, the way they could grow so dark and somber as she confided her fears in him, this strange boy from such a foreign world; he was practically a stranger. Who knew what safety could come from that, from entrusting such an illusion as he. The boy watched her lean against the cool window, her warm skin bonding to the frosty world outside through this thick, glass shield.

“What would you say if you could say anything?”

His words filled her; she did not know what to say.

This was not true, though. She knew exactly what she would say if there had been some hint of bravery in her weak heart. For, after years and years of disappointment – not just disappointing herself, but everyone who stumbled unsteadily over the constantly moving, unbalanced plane of her existence – she knew just what it was that she could say, if she were brave enough. Strong enough. If she were enough.

“I am sorry.”

He should have kissed her.

february 2012