These Matters Matter.

There was once a plant in my room.
He looked like a Gerald, so that's the name I gave him.
Gerald was a naturally mopey little green guy and I really tried to help.
I tried to give him all he needed;
I played my music to him real soft, I gave him the right amount of water, and I'd move him into the sunlight every now and again.
Gerald's beautiful limbs fell limply to his sides though. Always.
I picked him up once, hugged his home and where his roots lay buried.
There were broken pieces of him scattered around me.
Brittle brittle.

Father would slip into my room in the midst of my absences
Feed and care for baby Gerald.
I wouldn't know this until much later, of course,
Because by then I had given up on Gerald thinking to myself:
"Why is there so much love inside me if I can't even give it away properly?".
I did not notice the new glow on his skin.
Nor did I notice that his posture had changed from melancholic to quenched.

Finally Gerald was taken from me.
I could not care for him right, I was told.
He was immune to the kind of love I was giving.
It was destroying him, and I wasn't human enough.
End the suffering and let him feel incredible..I wasn't human enough.

So still spilling tears, I allowed him the escape.
His radiance reaches me still.
It's the only thing which allows me to smile.

Crying and moaning again you stupid bitch.

BUT I MUST BE MOANING AGAIN.

SHUTUP ME.

NO ONE IS LISTENING. YOU SAY YOU WANT TO LISTEN. NO ONE. NOT A SINGLE PERSON IS LISTENING.

BECAUSE ALL I DO IS MOAN. AND CRY.

BYE.

I am not enough I am not enough I am not enough.

Not a single night goes by
That I don't feel the tugging of tears ripping through my eyes.
I feel, believe that you hold her so dear,
"But her's not me", I'd like to yell into your ear.
But the words they quiver at my lips
And fall over the edge and sink like storm-stuck ships.
I know you think it's me and so you aren't to blame,
You see that I am burning and assume that I'm your flame.
I am the drifter who floats through the fog
I still make-believe and I still dream of Prague.
If you aren't right then what's there left?
Of anything but your love, I can be bereft.
You were saying you could not give up on me..
But I'm rocking back and forth like a child with a scraped knee.
The winds are changing and I am breaking.
Aching, from the love that you aren't taking.
Forsaken I feel, no breath remains.
The yelling is ringing and clinging to my veins.

Where are the promises that we both made?
Wearing me out, gently I fade,
Back into the shadows and fields of sharpened blades.

Tearing.

Thrown into the gutter- squirming and numb- but you shined your darkness and scraped off the scum.
I tore through the tough and got through to rough but it's better than the soft because I'm stuck like I'm cuffed.
Leaving all the marks like our initials in the bark of the tree in the garden of our minds we will embark.

.

"Thursday, September 3, 2009

Time to send someone away.
Feel that summer rain, it's in your face again.."

This is why I worry.
Extinguished is what I feel.