I feel like writing poetry, like I need to tap into a festering wound and let out the pus. It's still boiling inside of me, that ball of pus. But I did a free write in my journal.
Question: What do I feel?
Answer:
Hurt. Throbbing heart in my guts.
Betrayed.
Miserable, but getting over it.
Except for when I cry... again.
Can't really concentrate
but it's all I think about.
Love. Gone. Lost.
Free falling into a pool
of my own tears.
Pulling the plug, watching
them all swirl down the drain.
Unrefined hate so corrosive
the plumbing gives out and it spills everywhere.
Free from tyranny.
Ready to move on,
to let go.
Not exactly a "poem". But it formed like that on the page. Not very effective in letting the pus out of my soul, though.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Friday, January 29, 2010
I Love You
When we fight, I love you.
When you talk at me, not to me
When you don't listen
When you change the subject
When you refuse to hear the truth
And you run away from whatever it is that I need to say
I love you.
When you make me cry
I pretend to hate you, but I don't.
When you aren't there for me,
But I'm there for you,
When you refuse to be the anchor
To keep my ship stationary
In the tumultuous storm
I love you.
When I'm always wrong,
And you're always right,
And you tell me I'm crazy
And you tell me I'm a bitch
And you tell me everything
Everything that is wrong with me
And wrong with how I'm acting and how I feel
I love you.
When you refuse to admit
To how you really feel
And you try to make it all my fault
And you take your confusion
Your frustrations
Your anger
Your pent up everything out on me
I love you.
But I love you most when you do nothing
When you lay in the bed
And you hold me
You kiss me
You smooth my hair when I'm sleeping
And you stare at me
And I pretend I'm not awake
But I am. I just like to watch you
And you not know I see it.
I love you most when you tell me the truth.
When you tell me you love me
And you tell me that you need me
And that you enjoy me
And you tell me everything
Everything that you like about me
And you notice things
That no one else does.
I love you most when you are mine
When you feel what I feel
When you say what I say
When you hurt how I hurt
When you smile when I smile
When you miss me how I miss you
When you love me because of how I love you
When you hug me tight, and you don't want to let go
Because you know the same thing that I know-
This might be the last time
The last day
The last chance
For us to be together.
Because we both know that time is fleeting for us
Because we love each other
But you don't love me strong enough to keep us together
Because you don't want what I want
Because you're scared. And you don't understand.
But that's okay.
Because when you leave, I'll love you.
When you talk at me, not to me
When you don't listen
When you change the subject
When you refuse to hear the truth
And you run away from whatever it is that I need to say
I love you.
When you make me cry
I pretend to hate you, but I don't.
When you aren't there for me,
But I'm there for you,
When you refuse to be the anchor
To keep my ship stationary
In the tumultuous storm
I love you.
When I'm always wrong,
And you're always right,
And you tell me I'm crazy
And you tell me I'm a bitch
And you tell me everything
Everything that is wrong with me
And wrong with how I'm acting and how I feel
I love you.
When you refuse to admit
To how you really feel
And you try to make it all my fault
And you take your confusion
Your frustrations
Your anger
Your pent up everything out on me
I love you.
But I love you most when you do nothing
When you lay in the bed
And you hold me
You kiss me
You smooth my hair when I'm sleeping
And you stare at me
And I pretend I'm not awake
But I am. I just like to watch you
And you not know I see it.
I love you most when you tell me the truth.
When you tell me you love me
And you tell me that you need me
And that you enjoy me
And you tell me everything
Everything that you like about me
And you notice things
That no one else does.
I love you most when you are mine
When you feel what I feel
When you say what I say
When you hurt how I hurt
When you smile when I smile
When you miss me how I miss you
When you love me because of how I love you
When you hug me tight, and you don't want to let go
Because you know the same thing that I know-
This might be the last time
The last day
The last chance
For us to be together.
Because we both know that time is fleeting for us
Because we love each other
But you don't love me strong enough to keep us together
Because you don't want what I want
Because you're scared. And you don't understand.
But that's okay.
Because when you leave, I'll love you.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Swallowed
This is a first draft, and as such, is very rough. I still want to play with the words. I used the S sound a lot to get a slurring sensation. I'm also a little iffy on the repeated lines. I'll come back to it sometime and try to tweak it some. Apparently my mother is my muse this week. Weird.
She sinks into the couch,
falling deeper into the cushions, trapped
by the lethargy that comes along
with the tiny blue pills she takes every hour on the hour.
She doesn't wake up no matter how hard you shake,
or how loud you scream-
except for every hour, on the hour
when she rises from the makeshift grave
and swallows her pills with a swig of Coke
before slipping back into her homemade coma.
Sometimes the sofa sets her loose,
so she stumbles down the hallway
to the bedroom that reeks of pot and sex
and snuggles into a new straight jacket-
one made of blankets and cinched shut
by tiny blue pills.
Sometimes she spends days stuck
just below the surface of lucidity,
until the shifts of the pills change
from every hour, on the hour
to their prescribed times-
and then they inevitably run out.
The few days at the end of each month
when sanity becomes her,
she is my mother- as much as she can be, I suppose,
when she is aching to sink into the sagging sofa,
stripped of her senses as she slips
into the slumberous state
brought on by tiny blue pills-
every hour, on the hour.
She sinks into the couch,
falling deeper into the cushions, trapped
by the lethargy that comes along
with the tiny blue pills she takes every hour on the hour.
She doesn't wake up no matter how hard you shake,
or how loud you scream-
except for every hour, on the hour
when she rises from the makeshift grave
and swallows her pills with a swig of Coke
before slipping back into her homemade coma.
Sometimes the sofa sets her loose,
so she stumbles down the hallway
to the bedroom that reeks of pot and sex
and snuggles into a new straight jacket-
one made of blankets and cinched shut
by tiny blue pills.
Sometimes she spends days stuck
just below the surface of lucidity,
until the shifts of the pills change
from every hour, on the hour
to their prescribed times-
and then they inevitably run out.
The few days at the end of each month
when sanity becomes her,
she is my mother- as much as she can be, I suppose,
when she is aching to sink into the sagging sofa,
stripped of her senses as she slips
into the slumberous state
brought on by tiny blue pills-
every hour, on the hour.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
The Best is Yet to Come
I know that I am not a very spiritual person- but I do read the Bible occasionally, and I do enjoy it when I do. I have always been taught, and have always personally believed, that the verses in the Bible are open for personal interpretation. No matter how many times you read a verse, it is possible to get something new out of it each time. I had the urge, tonight, to journal about feelings I’ve had but found my pen would not move fast enough and as such have turned to the computer to get my feelings out as best I can.
The Song of Songs has always been one of my favorite books of the Bible, ever since I became incredibly in love with love. It is romantic, it is beautiful, it is poetic. It, along with James, have always spoken to me more than most other passages I have read. I have a version of the Bible called “The Message” which has rewritten it in modern language and paragraph form, and I really like the translation for more casual reading.
At any rate, I was thinking about love today, as I often do. It has been weighing heavily on me lately as I see my friends getting engaged, others getting involved, and some even getting married or having families. It makes me feel incredibly left behind and causes my mind to wander to darker places. As per usual I stop and I think to myself, “What is so incredibly wrong with me that nobody could want me? Why doesn’t anyone see in me exactly what I see in me?” I know for a fact I have many amazing qualities. I see them in myself, others see them, so I figure at this point I just have to sit and wait on the right guy to come along who is going to see them as well.
This train of thought is what caused me to pick up my Bible for the first time in probably a year. And I opened it to the Song of Songs, and this translation is written as follows:
Impatience is a terrible thing to have in love, and I am a victim of it. I want it now. The desire for instant gratification is what has led to me to so many heart breaks and let downs in the past. Granted, I have been better about not getting involved since Sean and I broke up if my heart was not in it. Learning to guard my heart was a difficult lesson. Now that my life is in order, and things are going so well, my head is on straight. Having my head on straight helps me to manage to take logical steps to keep myself safe, and prevent myself from getting hurt again. I am terrified to fall in love for fear of getting hurt, and while that fear can be detrimental I also think that being cautious will benefit me. I fall in love too fast and without much thought, and that’s not the best way to go about this thing called love.
Either way, I find inspiration and consolation from the aforementioned verses I found in The Song of Songs tonight. Everyone deserves a poetic love like that. Love can make us blind, but sometimes the blindness is for the best. Once I wrote a list of all of my flaws, eventually totally over 250 of them, and then I realized that what I truly wished was for someone to love me not only in spite of flaws, but because of them. So I wait, patiently now. I want the best, I deserve the best, and apparently the best has yet to come.
The Song of Songs has always been one of my favorite books of the Bible, ever since I became incredibly in love with love. It is romantic, it is beautiful, it is poetic. It, along with James, have always spoken to me more than most other passages I have read. I have a version of the Bible called “The Message” which has rewritten it in modern language and paragraph form, and I really like the translation for more casual reading.
At any rate, I was thinking about love today, as I often do. It has been weighing heavily on me lately as I see my friends getting engaged, others getting involved, and some even getting married or having families. It makes me feel incredibly left behind and causes my mind to wander to darker places. As per usual I stop and I think to myself, “What is so incredibly wrong with me that nobody could want me? Why doesn’t anyone see in me exactly what I see in me?” I know for a fact I have many amazing qualities. I see them in myself, others see them, so I figure at this point I just have to sit and wait on the right guy to come along who is going to see them as well.
This train of thought is what caused me to pick up my Bible for the first time in probably a year. And I opened it to the Song of Songs, and this translation is written as follows:
”I am weathered but still elegant,This particular section really struck a chord with me, considering my musings. This girl also knows she has her flaws, that she is not perfect, but she is still elegant. I am an elegant young woman. I am classy, I am beautiful, I am many wonderful things. I have a dark past, I have been tainted by happenings in my past. Those bad things in my past are like the sun’s harsh rays, darkening me. One day, though, there will be someone who will see me in all my glory regardless of my bruises.
oh, dear sisters in Jerusalem,
Weather-darkened like Kedar desert tents,
time-softened like Solomon’s Temple hangings.
Don’t look down on me because I’m dark,
darkened by the sun’s harsh rays.”
Impatience is a terrible thing to have in love, and I am a victim of it. I want it now. The desire for instant gratification is what has led to me to so many heart breaks and let downs in the past. Granted, I have been better about not getting involved since Sean and I broke up if my heart was not in it. Learning to guard my heart was a difficult lesson. Now that my life is in order, and things are going so well, my head is on straight. Having my head on straight helps me to manage to take logical steps to keep myself safe, and prevent myself from getting hurt again. I am terrified to fall in love for fear of getting hurt, and while that fear can be detrimental I also think that being cautious will benefit me. I fall in love too fast and without much thought, and that’s not the best way to go about this thing called love.
Either way, I find inspiration and consolation from the aforementioned verses I found in The Song of Songs tonight. Everyone deserves a poetic love like that. Love can make us blind, but sometimes the blindness is for the best. Once I wrote a list of all of my flaws, eventually totally over 250 of them, and then I realized that what I truly wished was for someone to love me not only in spite of flaws, but because of them. So I wait, patiently now. I want the best, I deserve the best, and apparently the best has yet to come.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Neil Gaiman Quote
“Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.”
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Crazy Dream
I wrote this via Instant Messenger to a friend so the grammar/punctuation is horrid. But I am too lazy to fix it. Yet I want to share it.
i had a dream that Miley Cyrus tweeted her phone number and I called her b/c I was shitfaced. And the next day she called me back to make sure that I was okay and to thank me for letting her know her tweets weren't protected. and when she called me the next day she invited me and a few friends to come to nashville to hang out with her. while we were on the phone billy ray cyrus picked up to tell her he needed to call soemone and we ignored him then he got mad so she was like "okay see you soon bye." and then she followed me on twitter and sent me a @bethea message that i retweeted...
so me and a few friends get together to go and we're staying in this hotel. somehow ive made homemade peanutbutter cookies and i have tons of liquor and someone comes in the room and is like THEY'RE RAIDING THE HOTEL FOR DRUGS. and apparently some of my friends had drugs. so this cop comes upstairs to search the room. and it the cop was Joe Pesci. And me and my other female friend start flirting with him. And he decided to take us home with him. So his wife gets all pissy or whatever...
And when he takes us "home" we end up in this weird junkyard. And it turns out he is actually a monster from AAAAH real monsters. but he and the Gromble have a human fetish and he's taking us under ground in the dump to keep us as slaves. I woke up after we went through the washing machine to enter monster-world because i got a twitter update on my phone.
i had a dream that Miley Cyrus tweeted her phone number and I called her b/c I was shitfaced. And the next day she called me back to make sure that I was okay and to thank me for letting her know her tweets weren't protected. and when she called me the next day she invited me and a few friends to come to nashville to hang out with her. while we were on the phone billy ray cyrus picked up to tell her he needed to call soemone and we ignored him then he got mad so she was like "okay see you soon bye." and then she followed me on twitter and sent me a @bethea message that i retweeted...
so me and a few friends get together to go and we're staying in this hotel. somehow ive made homemade peanutbutter cookies and i have tons of liquor and someone comes in the room and is like THEY'RE RAIDING THE HOTEL FOR DRUGS. and apparently some of my friends had drugs. so this cop comes upstairs to search the room. and it the cop was Joe Pesci. And me and my other female friend start flirting with him. And he decided to take us home with him. So his wife gets all pissy or whatever...
And when he takes us "home" we end up in this weird junkyard. And it turns out he is actually a monster from AAAAH real monsters. but he and the Gromble have a human fetish and he's taking us under ground in the dump to keep us as slaves. I woke up after we went through the washing machine to enter monster-world because i got a twitter update on my phone.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Unlovable
Unlovable - Darren Hayes
Sometimes I wonder why it is that I seem incapable of achieving true happiness. There is no reason why I should not be happy. I have a job, which is more than most people can say in the current state of the economy. I go to school and I do well in school and my financial paid pays for everything. I have a wonderful home, a great family, a reliable car, and tons of luxuries others will probably never know. Even so with all of these things that I have, I feel as though it's not enough for one simple reason- I am lonely.
Frank Sinatra once sang that you are nobody until somebody loves you. It is so very true. What is sad is that I have thrown my heart away on a careless prick who will never love me with the same ferocity that I love him, regardless of how much time or effort I put into proving my worthiness. Which leads me to a very simple, condemning, yet hauntingly true conclusion- I must be unlovable.
Many of you will try to tell me “Oh, you’re only twenty-two, you have plenty of time in the world to find the one for you.” That may be very true, (in fact it is very true) but it does not change how I feel about the situation in the least. What is most frustrating about this is the fact that it is the same old song and dance. I’m okay for a while, I’m thrilled to be single, I am content. Then I realize how I am being left behind and it scares me. Everyone has somebody except for me, which is what hurts most. It is difficult to lament in about my singleness without another single person to identify with me.
The fact that I am twenty-two, I am not a dog by any means, and I have a lot to offer a man is what is most confusing. Where is that fatal flaw which makes me undesirable and unlovable? Perhaps it is writing blogs just like this one. Maybe it’s the fact I am more than likely at least a tiny bit insane. It could be the extra cushioning I carry around, though I must admit heavier and less attractive girls than I aren’t lonely this holiday season. I like video games, sports, and having fun. I should, logically, be every man’s dream. Hell, I’ve even got great legs and a nice rack. What am I lacking?
I don’t know. I’m not sure that I particularly care to find out. More than likely the discovery of exactly what the problem is would cause me to have some sort of cataclysmic epiphany of worthlessness and only prolong this sudden state of depression I have stumbled upon this evening. (And it was quite sudden. I was great and fine, and then out of nowhere I felt like the world was falling apart. It’s a sudden shift in moods that I’m accustomed to at this point.)
I think it is time to create a new list of flaws and to pinpoint which ones make me the most undesirable. The last list I ended at 275 personal flaws. Perhaps I can hit 300 this time, or even more.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
A Quote I Like
Have you even been in love? Horrible, isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens your heart and it means someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses. You build up this whole armor, for years, so nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...
You give them a piece of you. They don't ask for it. They do something dumb one day like kiss you, or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so a simple phrase like "maybe we should just be friends" or "how very perceptive" turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a body-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.
in Sandman: The Kindly Ones by Neil Gaiman
You give them a piece of you. They don't ask for it. They do something dumb one day like kiss you, or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so a simple phrase like "maybe we should just be friends" or "how very perceptive" turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a body-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.
in Sandman: The Kindly Ones by Neil Gaiman
Friday, November 27, 2009
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