Help me somebody, please.
There's questions that need answering and cuddles that need giving and somebody needs to shake me and make me talk cause this mute girl is just cruising along for the ride... But I've been on this one before, almost everyday last year. And I didn't enjoy it enough to be doing it all over again.
Go home class, go home.
Maybe I don't have a home to go to, perhaps this hallway with the gray carpet and green walls is my home. What if I told you this was where I belong, that I can't leave?
What would you do then? Would you still send me home? 'Cause I'm not sure where I'm meant to be going right now so I'm just sitting on the gray carpet trying to make myself invisible. I've lost my words, what do I have to do to lose my body? What's the trick here?
But if I have no voice then nothing is going to be resolved. A year on the gray carpet, my back against the green wall.
Speak up,
This isn't your home kid.
This is an Institution.
Where do you belong?
Tell us something about yourselves, just a little something, a sentence. Who are you? Why are you here? God is that all it takes to break my well measured muteness? Shit, am I that easy to crack? Well, perhaps, maybe now that barrier has been broken I'll be able to sing from the rooftops. Maybe I can talk to someone, someone I don't already know, I wouldn't mind that. Cos loneliness is gun and all but I'm starving for something a little bit more.
Make me an offer,
tell me what you want from me
what are you afraid of?
Dear Stranger,
i love you
Today you were eyes, eyes carrying big dark bags with them, like the rings of Saturn. Your dreaded head leaning against the elevator doors. I saw you as I entered, I was in my silent world of music, thoughts and secrets.
I saw in your eyes undisguised curiosity, I felt a moment of connection. What did you see? What did you see when you looked at me? me and my alphabet bracelet, my shaggy hair perched comically on my head like a little bird.
Perhaps you and this fowl being had engaged in some sort of communication, did my bird tell you a secret? What does this bird know anyway?
I am the silent girl, the mute one who has lost her voice and her way, and is unsure how to find either. Did you see that in my face? Did my bird tell you where it is? It's not fair that my bird can speak to you while I can say nothing.
Help me?
(L)
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
swamps and swamp things
I'm trapped inside this house, with all its secrets and unspoken truths.
I can't leave, there's a moat around my room and the draw bridge has been pulled up and the lever broken, no one can get in to fix it.
There's secrets in my heart and in my soul that I don't want anyone to know, and the quiet house is whispering to them asking them to come out.
I need to leave this place and escape it's enchanting calls. No-one can know what my souls says, not me and especially not this house or its inhabitants.
Perhaps I will flag down a passing bird and throw my nap-sack on its winged back and soar to new heights of safety. Will I be safe there? Up in the sky? Will the whispering find me?
I hope that I can be safe somewhere, that I will not have to retreat fully into my heart and become a hermit in my ventricles.
I know I can be safe again, one day people will stop seeking the secrets of my heart and leave me to live my life, they will stop knocking on the door to my soul screaming to be let in. They will let me be me and I will let those who I love inside where they can find warmth in my truth.
In the mean time, I'm getting my swimmers on and I'm getting out of here, because the silence of the whispering is driving me mad and I'll fight the treacherous waters if it means a minute of freedom.
Dear Secrets,
i love you
You keep me safe and dry in this rainy weather and I thank-you for that and will love you always for this kindness. You keep me safe from prying eyes and you look after me, you know everything there is to know about me.
With you in my life I can be who I want to be and no one can tell me otherwise because they cannot see into my soul.
Only you know the truth about me and you love me anyway. You do not judge me on these things that I do, that I keep, that I am. No-one has ever known me so fully and just accepted me with every flaw, and I do not believe that anyone ever will.
So thank-you secrets for helping me continue to be a functioning member of society,
You have the VIP pass,
(L)
I can't leave, there's a moat around my room and the draw bridge has been pulled up and the lever broken, no one can get in to fix it.
There's secrets in my heart and in my soul that I don't want anyone to know, and the quiet house is whispering to them asking them to come out.
I need to leave this place and escape it's enchanting calls. No-one can know what my souls says, not me and especially not this house or its inhabitants.
Perhaps I will flag down a passing bird and throw my nap-sack on its winged back and soar to new heights of safety. Will I be safe there? Up in the sky? Will the whispering find me?
I hope that I can be safe somewhere, that I will not have to retreat fully into my heart and become a hermit in my ventricles.
I know I can be safe again, one day people will stop seeking the secrets of my heart and leave me to live my life, they will stop knocking on the door to my soul screaming to be let in. They will let me be me and I will let those who I love inside where they can find warmth in my truth.
In the mean time, I'm getting my swimmers on and I'm getting out of here, because the silence of the whispering is driving me mad and I'll fight the treacherous waters if it means a minute of freedom.
Dear Secrets,
i love you
You keep me safe and dry in this rainy weather and I thank-you for that and will love you always for this kindness. You keep me safe from prying eyes and you look after me, you know everything there is to know about me.
With you in my life I can be who I want to be and no one can tell me otherwise because they cannot see into my soul.
Only you know the truth about me and you love me anyway. You do not judge me on these things that I do, that I keep, that I am. No-one has ever known me so fully and just accepted me with every flaw, and I do not believe that anyone ever will.
So thank-you secrets for helping me continue to be a functioning member of society,
You have the VIP pass,
(L)
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
the vampire slayer
I tried to blog today about my efforts to slay the nights heart with my daggers and courage.
I was going to tell you how I painted myself black and stalked the night with bare feet on cold ground.
I was going to tell you about all the horrible and terrifying things I saw that I could never describe to you because there are no human words in any version of the language to describe such unearthly terror.
I was going to tell you how I was unable to be afraid because the night would sense it and use it against me
I tried to tell you, to warn you.
But I couldn't.
I wanted you to know that I walked for days in search of a heart I grew suspicious of even existing.
I wanted to explain to you how the wind can taunt you, and the trees can trap you, and the things that go bump in the night have teeth and fangs and are impervious to any amount of stabbing.
I wanted to tell you about the place I ended up, when I reached the heart. And what I saw there, and how it changed my life.
I tried to blog about it, but I couldn't.
Most of all I wanted to tell you that when I reach the 'heart' it was, as one would expect, crawling with demons of my past and threats about my future. I wanted to tell you that this was what I had expected and I had conjured magic to help me fight the doom which I knew would defeat me if given the chance. I wanted to talk of how all the preparation in the world couldn't save me from myself.
What I had no intention of telling you was that I'd been there before.
And it was you who save me then.
And it's you who'll save me now.
To Whom It May Concern,
i love you,
And I'm going to find my way back to you.
I'm sorry, but you're perfect.
You're the one,
(L)
I was going to tell you how I painted myself black and stalked the night with bare feet on cold ground.
I was going to tell you about all the horrible and terrifying things I saw that I could never describe to you because there are no human words in any version of the language to describe such unearthly terror.
I was going to tell you how I was unable to be afraid because the night would sense it and use it against me
I tried to tell you, to warn you.
But I couldn't.
I wanted you to know that I walked for days in search of a heart I grew suspicious of even existing.
I wanted to explain to you how the wind can taunt you, and the trees can trap you, and the things that go bump in the night have teeth and fangs and are impervious to any amount of stabbing.
I wanted to tell you about the place I ended up, when I reached the heart. And what I saw there, and how it changed my life.
I tried to blog about it, but I couldn't.
Most of all I wanted to tell you that when I reach the 'heart' it was, as one would expect, crawling with demons of my past and threats about my future. I wanted to tell you that this was what I had expected and I had conjured magic to help me fight the doom which I knew would defeat me if given the chance. I wanted to talk of how all the preparation in the world couldn't save me from myself.
What I had no intention of telling you was that I'd been there before.
And it was you who save me then.
And it's you who'll save me now.
To Whom It May Concern,
i love you,
And I'm going to find my way back to you.
I'm sorry, but you're perfect.
You're the one,
(L)
Sunday, May 10, 2009
9.8.7.6.5...
Can you see through me?
I feel slightly opaque at the moment. A little clear, a little glassy.
It's hard to explain this feeling that I have. That I'm not quite in the world but observing it.
It's like a guided tour with the ghosts of my past where I can watch things happen but do nothing to alter them, only, It's not guided... I'm alone.
I don't mind I suppose. It's not a bad view. It's nice to take a break and just take in the world from a safe distance.
Perhaps I'm not made of glass.
But it feels like I am.
It's a rather complicated thought this one. That I am glass and this is why I am invisible, but also that I am glass and this is why I must be invisible.
I need to be a safe distance from things to stop myself being shattered, it's irresponsible for glass to run around and pretend it's just like everyone else. Not only could I shatter, but I could hurt other people. I could fall and decapitate someone... or worse.
Just one hit and I'd be gone, and perhaps a few innocent (presumably) bystanders too.
But I can't be in the world because I can't be seen, it's hardly a choice I'm making. So am I invisible because I need to be? Or is it simply a case of curious timing that I came to be invisible now amongst a whirlwind of... sand? through my hour glass?
Are these the days of my life?
It's a riddle I can't solve.
Im safe here, behind my glass, inside my glass. It's funny how something so fragile can be the only thing holding me together.
If the world can't see me then I must be invisible, I can't be involved.
Perhaps I need to be glass right now.
I don't think I could handle being a being.
It's a time of reflection nonetheless... whether I be glass or simply in possession of glass like qualities.
Is it that without a lover I am only half a person, will I remain shatterable until I take the plunge I'm most afraid will break me?
What a tremendous leap of faith that would be.
How can the key to my solidity be the very thing that rendered me to cellophane in the first place? And where would I leap to?
Dear Future Lover,
i love you
That much is a given because it is our destiny to be loved and in love.
The more important question I have to ask today is when do I find you? In what chapter of my life do we meet and fall for each other? And is this the kind of story that ends happily ever after or is there a sequel?
How far do I have until I get to the end of the race, do we cross the line together?
Will I write you a story and make you mine? Will you write me into your music and your heart? How does it start? When does it end?
Do we meet in a coffee shop; you see me scrawling on a napkin, alone, deep in thought. Do I glance up and see you cross the street and get stampedded by butterflies?
Do we work together in a restaurant and write love notes in our aprons? Have we already met?
Do you send me flowers and take me on adventures?
Do I meet you in the city while I'm getting stockings and stamps? Do you serve me ice-cream or ink?
Do I talk to you or do you talk to me?
Do we drink tea under a blanket in the lounge room? Lie on the floor listening to music and talking about nonsense?
Do we make a life together?
Do we change the world together?
When do you break my heart?
(L)
I feel slightly opaque at the moment. A little clear, a little glassy.
It's hard to explain this feeling that I have. That I'm not quite in the world but observing it.
It's like a guided tour with the ghosts of my past where I can watch things happen but do nothing to alter them, only, It's not guided... I'm alone.
I don't mind I suppose. It's not a bad view. It's nice to take a break and just take in the world from a safe distance.
Perhaps I'm not made of glass.
But it feels like I am.
It's a rather complicated thought this one. That I am glass and this is why I am invisible, but also that I am glass and this is why I must be invisible.
I need to be a safe distance from things to stop myself being shattered, it's irresponsible for glass to run around and pretend it's just like everyone else. Not only could I shatter, but I could hurt other people. I could fall and decapitate someone... or worse.
Just one hit and I'd be gone, and perhaps a few innocent (presumably) bystanders too.
But I can't be in the world because I can't be seen, it's hardly a choice I'm making. So am I invisible because I need to be? Or is it simply a case of curious timing that I came to be invisible now amongst a whirlwind of... sand? through my hour glass?
Are these the days of my life?
It's a riddle I can't solve.
Im safe here, behind my glass, inside my glass. It's funny how something so fragile can be the only thing holding me together.
If the world can't see me then I must be invisible, I can't be involved.
Perhaps I need to be glass right now.
I don't think I could handle being a being.
It's a time of reflection nonetheless... whether I be glass or simply in possession of glass like qualities.
Is it that without a lover I am only half a person, will I remain shatterable until I take the plunge I'm most afraid will break me?
What a tremendous leap of faith that would be.
How can the key to my solidity be the very thing that rendered me to cellophane in the first place? And where would I leap to?
Dear Future Lover,
i love you
That much is a given because it is our destiny to be loved and in love.
The more important question I have to ask today is when do I find you? In what chapter of my life do we meet and fall for each other? And is this the kind of story that ends happily ever after or is there a sequel?
How far do I have until I get to the end of the race, do we cross the line together?
Will I write you a story and make you mine? Will you write me into your music and your heart? How does it start? When does it end?
Do we meet in a coffee shop; you see me scrawling on a napkin, alone, deep in thought. Do I glance up and see you cross the street and get stampedded by butterflies?
Do we work together in a restaurant and write love notes in our aprons? Have we already met?
Do you send me flowers and take me on adventures?
Do I meet you in the city while I'm getting stockings and stamps? Do you serve me ice-cream or ink?
Do I talk to you or do you talk to me?
Do we drink tea under a blanket in the lounge room? Lie on the floor listening to music and talking about nonsense?
Do we make a life together?
Do we change the world together?
When do you break my heart?
(L)
Saturday, May 9, 2009
can you spare a thought?
I'm distracted by a million thoughts all tugging at strands of my brain, begging for attention and direction. But there's one thought who has outsmarted the lot. One thought that doesn't need to tug for my attention.
This frustrating anomaly keeps my brain going round and round in circles. I don't know what it's trying to tell me. I can't stop trying to figure it out.
I'm wasting time here, wasting life here. So please, just answer me: Who are you?
I can't stop trying to figure out what I want, what I need, what I already have.
Do I have you? Do I know you? Have we met? Can we meet?
I feel so lost when you're not around.
I don't know you, and I don't know how to get to know you.
Do I know you?
Dear Mysterious thoughts,
i love you,
I can't sleep at night.
Whenever I close my eyes you're there, haunting me.
Why can't I get you out of my head? What makes you think you own it? That you belong there?
Don't you think it's time you moved on? Aren't you bored... ready to leave?
I don't know what to do to get rid of you, nothing's making you disappear.
Who are you?
You take up so much of my time with random thoughts and smiles. I want you gone so I can get back to my new life.
I do have a plan. I will beat you.
Do you want to hear my plan?
Too bad.
I'll get you out of my head, you better believe it. I have to because I need to... I want to be free again.
When was I ever free?
I'll get you out of my head. You watch out, I'm a forced to reckoned with. And when you're out you will be in so much trouble you will be forging fake ID's and passports and leaving the country... but guess what, I'll already be at the airport, waiting for you.
I'll get you out of my head and once I have that space back I'll use all that you usurped to plot my next move, making sure you feel my wrath.
I'll get you out of my head, and once I do I'll make sure... I'll make damn sure.
I'm getting you out of my head and I'm getting you into my bed, I need to. I need you.
I have a plan
(L)
This frustrating anomaly keeps my brain going round and round in circles. I don't know what it's trying to tell me. I can't stop trying to figure it out.
I'm wasting time here, wasting life here. So please, just answer me: Who are you?
I can't stop trying to figure out what I want, what I need, what I already have.
Do I have you? Do I know you? Have we met? Can we meet?
I feel so lost when you're not around.
I don't know you, and I don't know how to get to know you.
Do I know you?
Dear Mysterious thoughts,
i love you,
I can't sleep at night.
Whenever I close my eyes you're there, haunting me.
Why can't I get you out of my head? What makes you think you own it? That you belong there?
Don't you think it's time you moved on? Aren't you bored... ready to leave?
I don't know what to do to get rid of you, nothing's making you disappear.
Who are you?
You take up so much of my time with random thoughts and smiles. I want you gone so I can get back to my new life.
I do have a plan. I will beat you.
Do you want to hear my plan?
Too bad.
I'll get you out of my head, you better believe it. I have to because I need to... I want to be free again.
When was I ever free?
I'll get you out of my head. You watch out, I'm a forced to reckoned with. And when you're out you will be in so much trouble you will be forging fake ID's and passports and leaving the country... but guess what, I'll already be at the airport, waiting for you.
I'll get you out of my head and once I have that space back I'll use all that you usurped to plot my next move, making sure you feel my wrath.
I'll get you out of my head, and once I do I'll make sure... I'll make damn sure.
I'm getting you out of my head and I'm getting you into my bed, I need to. I need you.
I have a plan
(L)
Friday, May 8, 2009
WARNING:
Blogging by request?
People ask me to write blog posts about them... It's a tricky gig that. I mean it's easy enough, I could probably write a blog about anything or anyone; living, dead, zombied, immortal, half-dead, angelic, demonic, frustrating or even boring.
The tricky bit comes in the recipient, the requestee if you will, because you can never be sure how one will take ones blog posting. You see I can write blogs all day about how much I love things but when I write a blog saying how much i love you... well... it's then things seem to get a little icky.
Apparently 'i love you', those infamous three itty words, no matter how many times I have repeated them on this page, still manage to retain their overall power and tend to result in nasty-ass side effects such as:
over his hard shaft"), the point is, don't be afraid of my love because my love is unrequited, it is small and unobtrusive, it is contained and restrained.
My love is inanimate.
Dear Pickles,
i love you
Pickles may refer to:
This letter is for you, I hope when you read it you realise just how much you mean to me and then hopefully, how much I mean to you?
Can we be together?
Yes?
No?
Maybe?
You pickle my fancy.
(L)
People ask me to write blog posts about them... It's a tricky gig that. I mean it's easy enough, I could probably write a blog about anything or anyone; living, dead, zombied, immortal, half-dead, angelic, demonic, frustrating or even boring.
The tricky bit comes in the recipient, the requestee if you will, because you can never be sure how one will take ones blog posting. You see I can write blogs all day about how much I love things but when I write a blog saying how much i love you... well... it's then things seem to get a little icky.
Apparently 'i love you', those infamous three itty words, no matter how many times I have repeated them on this page, still manage to retain their overall power and tend to result in nasty-ass side effects such as:
- Anger on many fronts
- Uncomfortableness in ones seat
- Giddness
- Sharp chest pain
- Coughing of blood
- Loss of brains, heart and/or courage
- Sudden shortness of breath
- Heaviness of chest
- Sudden sever headache or vomiting
- Dizziness or fainting
- Disturbances of vision or speech
- Weakness or numbness in an arm or leg
- Greening of pigmentation around the entire body
- Jaundice or yellowing of the skin or eyeballs
- Fever, fatigue or loss of appetite
- Itchy rashes
- Rise in blood pressure
- Mutations in the form of extra limbs or third eyes
- Swelling around the eyes or mouth
over his hard shaft"), the point is, don't be afraid of my love because my love is unrequited, it is small and unobtrusive, it is contained and restrained.
My love is inanimate.
Dear Pickles,
i love you
Pickles may refer to:
- A pickled cucumber, a food most commonly referred to as a pickle in the U.S. and Canada
- A pickled onion, a food most commonly referred to as a pickle in the UK. => Other vegetables that have been pickled
- Pickles (comic strip), a comic strip by Brian Crane
- Pickles (dog), the dog that found the World Cup trophy in 1966
- "Pickles" (SpongeBob SquarePants episode)
This letter is for you, I hope when you read it you realise just how much you mean to me and then hopefully, how much I mean to you?
Can we be together?
Yes?
No?
Maybe?
You pickle my fancy.
(L)
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