When I was younger I thought you were the best guy
in the world
Always thought I was the only girl to know
I still recall those summer nights
when we were all friends, you used to stare at me
so much back then I just thought it meant nothing
guess it was the way you looked at me and..
Well, you're older, and you're thinking
she's just my friend's little sister
So we talked, right? it went nowhere 'cuz
you keep thinking I'm just your friend's sister
I still remember your smell from back when we were younger...
playing games outside all night
how you liked me but would never tell, you used to smile...
you used to laugh
you used to tease me, tease me
you used to be happy
What happened?
So you're older, and you're obnoxious
cuz even now I'm just your friend's sister
So I tried to, get to know you--I guess you're too weird!
I'm still just your friend's sister
I bet you really miss her
your friend's cute sister
Yea, I bet you really miss her
She's more than your friend's little sister.
Song written by Natalie Klett
Sunday, November 23, 2014
Sunday, October 26, 2014
YOU ROCK! Tribute to an ex-friend
Dear JM,
You used to ROCK, if rocks are rigid, frustrating and lacklustre. Did you tell me you loved me?
I can't recall.
Things you Like:
rock
your guitar
your drugs
slim girls
me
You were beautiful in my eyes. Eyes they were blue. The feel of your arms around me...I can't recall.
Your pale hands were cold and clammy, hair long and kept.
You seemed friendly and smart--not book smart, street smart--emotional smart--or so I thought.
I gave you so much time to fall in with me but instead you carelessly chose to fall out and runaway
all that was left was fragmented me, unsure how to act, unsure how to be
I was the giver of chances and you were a thief
I let you harvest my happiness all for a kiss with no feeling
And when you sauntered into my circle instead of a chance I drew a line
and you probably smiled after the shock, liked me more than you ever had
because you realized I had grown a spine
You might have thought it was your doing but this backbone I was born with
you melted all the tension with your kind reassurances and sent it south with
neglect
I wanted kisses in the rain not to be left to drown in confusion and pain
I wanted to find love in my best friend but it was just an idea with a dead end
I grew a spine, you stayed a coward, we're no longer friends and for once it doesn't feel good to be right. Did you make me happy? I can't recall.
Are you happy? I hope so.
You used to ROCK, if rocks are rigid, frustrating and lacklustre. Did you tell me you loved me?
I can't recall.
Things you Like:
rock
your guitar
your drugs
slim girls
You were beautiful in my eyes. Eyes they were blue. The feel of your arms around me...I can't recall.
Your pale hands were cold and clammy, hair long and kept.
You seemed friendly and smart--not book smart, street smart--emotional smart--or so I thought.
I gave you so much time to fall in with me but instead you carelessly chose to fall out and runaway
all that was left was fragmented me, unsure how to act, unsure how to be
I was the giver of chances and you were a thief
I let you harvest my happiness all for a kiss with no feeling
And when you sauntered into my circle instead of a chance I drew a line
and you probably smiled after the shock, liked me more than you ever had
because you realized I had grown a spine
You might have thought it was your doing but this backbone I was born with
you melted all the tension with your kind reassurances and sent it south with
neglect
I wanted kisses in the rain not to be left to drown in confusion and pain
I wanted to find love in my best friend but it was just an idea with a dead end
I grew a spine, you stayed a coward, we're no longer friends and for once it doesn't feel good to be right. Did you make me happy? I can't recall.
Are you happy? I hope so.
Saturday, September 13, 2014
Fuck being Reserved
Has my life become about tiptoeing around my own dramatic tendencies and meanwhile suffering with trying to tolerate my loved ones' messes? Am I a just a tumbleweed whisping by quietly and accumulating garbage or am I a strong wind that picks up hot air and swirls into a tornado, collecting casualties as I go--cows and barns and such?
I much prefer to reserve dramatic response for positive use. Instead, I'm lit dynamite with a fuse longer than most realize. I don't think people have it out for me, I just think they're oblivious of the fact that I hold my discontent in so as to give them another chance. Take advantage of that chance and throw me around like I'll always stick around? Well, to put it simply...
fuck you.
I have greater feelings to feel, more joyful memories to experience, and more respect to gain. elsewhere. with someone else. Because I'm worth more than this, you ought to recognize.
I much prefer to reserve dramatic response for positive use. Instead, I'm lit dynamite with a fuse longer than most realize. I don't think people have it out for me, I just think they're oblivious of the fact that I hold my discontent in so as to give them another chance. Take advantage of that chance and throw me around like I'll always stick around? Well, to put it simply...
fuck you.
I have greater feelings to feel, more joyful memories to experience, and more respect to gain. elsewhere. with someone else. Because I'm worth more than this, you ought to recognize.
Saturday, August 30, 2014
Fine Leather
Inhale,
It seems now the polluted air takes on a new adult form of comfort
It`s real, distorted and un-pretending
It`s trying and anxious, some call it reckless
I`m not reckless 'cause I sometimes want to wreck it all
Cause I fall--
falter with unknowing looming so tall
the only thing I know absolutely is of the deterioration of a body
Inhale,
biologically breathing, surviving isn`t living
with routine repetition lost ambition and mostly blindly sipping
from my devil`s cup, temple tipping cause my mind`s mixed up
Tripping on doubt as it cynically interrupts
Caught breath, fine leather
Fastened tight, I'm light as a feather
Hold, hold!
Exhale.
It seems now the polluted air takes on a new adult form of comfort
It`s real, distorted and un-pretending
It`s trying and anxious, some call it reckless
I`m not reckless 'cause I sometimes want to wreck it all
Cause I fall--
falter with unknowing looming so tall
the only thing I know absolutely is of the deterioration of a body
Inhale,
biologically breathing, surviving isn`t living
with routine repetition lost ambition and mostly blindly sipping
from my devil`s cup, temple tipping cause my mind`s mixed up
Tripping on doubt as it cynically interrupts
Caught breath, fine leather
Fastened tight, I'm light as a feather
Hold, hold!
Exhale.
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
Brokenness & The World's Most Beautiful Disaster
My most vivid memories of elementary school involve drama. Not the negative drama where you could get hurt, no--the drama that is acting and creative movement, a captivating idea brought to my knowledge through a teacher by the name of (blank). Ms. (blank)'s way of teaching inspired me to gravitate to dramatic people. My first crush was named Eric, everyone enjoyed him because he was funny, outspoken, and at times, rebellious--a character. I did not want flat, I was attracted to people with grandiose gestures and immense passion. I wasn't aware of it at the time I locked eyes with him, but Zach's passion and movement made me unconsciously want him. Now I tend to wonder, is part of getting what you want...convincing yourself you never can? If you're telling yourself you can't have something and time passes by and you actually don't get what you want, wouldn't that really mean you're getting what you want because what you believed came true?
The happiest clown still cries when the makeup disappears, the most successful comedians see themselves as the world's best joke, and this is the way the world turns. Musicians and artists: extremely happy or extremely sad, no in-between. His face crunches into an expression of disgust with the topic of discussion and I watch as his skin wrinkles and stretches back and wish I could erase the lines. Even when he is well-rested his eyes look tired and worn, like they've seen more than they should and as if tears just don't come out from them anymore. His hair has grown longer due to the lack of time for a haircut and his face sometimes seems so sunken in as though he's been starved of stability. I feel the chill of his new basement room and while on his bed I tell him I'm cold. He asks, "do you mean that emotionally or physically?" and this comment would only make sense to someone if they knew the context. He wrapped his body around me and I instantly felt his warmth. For the past few weeks before that point, our intimacy had been difficult with all of the negativity surrounding his daily life. Zach was having difficulty with what used to be an incredible kitchen job at a decent restaurant. The difficulty came with, essentially, the McDonaldization of the restaurant which meant more pressure and less passion. He'd decided he could not work in the environment any longer and while problems arose with matters of work and matters of our relationship, the fatal state of his grandmother added the imminence of grief to his shoulders. With hope and determination, Zach scored a job wearing chef's whites working at Swan, a finer restaurant than the previous. He had been tossed around and the pit in my chest grew with the inner conflict I faced between being selfish and arguing with the hope for it to become resolved which in reality became endless. It only left me feeling worse for keeping him awake late enough to leave him with the minimum time left to sleep which would surely affect his performance at work in the morning.
I went into the bathroom, holding back tears of anger and wanting to remove the tangles from his stomach and lower back. I wished I could say something that would cure him of this continuous ache. It was a mental trigger of an ache that I'm sure no one else could understand completely. He wanted to be alone and I held back offence and instead felt helplessness. I felt guilt for having caused it but how I felt did not matter because his feelings meant more to me; that is why we left to get me home. My guilt and need to be alleviated of such feelings shows, as I realized it to be, self-centered behavior when I came to the conclusion that to act selflessly was to be silent and go home.
The pain in his face and weakness made me upset and furious not being able to fix it, but still I stayed silent and let him take me home.
The happiest clown still cries when the makeup disappears, the most successful comedians see themselves as the world's best joke, and this is the way the world turns. Musicians and artists: extremely happy or extremely sad, no in-between. His face crunches into an expression of disgust with the topic of discussion and I watch as his skin wrinkles and stretches back and wish I could erase the lines. Even when he is well-rested his eyes look tired and worn, like they've seen more than they should and as if tears just don't come out from them anymore. His hair has grown longer due to the lack of time for a haircut and his face sometimes seems so sunken in as though he's been starved of stability. I feel the chill of his new basement room and while on his bed I tell him I'm cold. He asks, "do you mean that emotionally or physically?" and this comment would only make sense to someone if they knew the context. He wrapped his body around me and I instantly felt his warmth. For the past few weeks before that point, our intimacy had been difficult with all of the negativity surrounding his daily life. Zach was having difficulty with what used to be an incredible kitchen job at a decent restaurant. The difficulty came with, essentially, the McDonaldization of the restaurant which meant more pressure and less passion. He'd decided he could not work in the environment any longer and while problems arose with matters of work and matters of our relationship, the fatal state of his grandmother added the imminence of grief to his shoulders. With hope and determination, Zach scored a job wearing chef's whites working at Swan, a finer restaurant than the previous. He had been tossed around and the pit in my chest grew with the inner conflict I faced between being selfish and arguing with the hope for it to become resolved which in reality became endless. It only left me feeling worse for keeping him awake late enough to leave him with the minimum time left to sleep which would surely affect his performance at work in the morning.
I went into the bathroom, holding back tears of anger and wanting to remove the tangles from his stomach and lower back. I wished I could say something that would cure him of this continuous ache. It was a mental trigger of an ache that I'm sure no one else could understand completely. He wanted to be alone and I held back offence and instead felt helplessness. I felt guilt for having caused it but how I felt did not matter because his feelings meant more to me; that is why we left to get me home. My guilt and need to be alleviated of such feelings shows, as I realized it to be, self-centered behavior when I came to the conclusion that to act selflessly was to be silent and go home.
The pain in his face and weakness made me upset and furious not being able to fix it, but still I stayed silent and let him take me home.
Tuesday, August 27, 2013
Pretend you're okay with it as long as I'm Happy, World!
His body is a flawless figure, the perfect specimen of man. His skin soft and stature lean but not quite muscular. He reminds me of a wolf; the scruffy lone wolves that roam around with their deep eyes and neverending gaze. In the first few weeks of being with him, that gaze would provoke a nervousness inside me; the kind that made me question my judgment. Now, his staring eyes are warm and full of wonder--there's a matter-of-fact sureness in those eyes.
I'd dreamt he and I were coming close to confronting my parents of our "plan to finally date each other" despite what obstacles they might think would come with the age gap. He was sure as he was in real life, but then, in a short instant, everything changed. He told me to forget about the whole thing, as if he didn't want to deal with the drama of it all. In a fit of rage and upset I literally ran and told my parents with the idea that if I just got it over with that maybe he wouldn't leave. I'm haunted by that small fear that the person I truly love will disappear.
We make love and bask in the delicate high of the chemicals stewing due to eachother's efforts. Is there anything more relaxing and naturally enjoyable to induce/experience with another being?
It's a mistake and almost an expectation to wish to be tangled with him all the nights of my life because I am refusing believe in a forever. But it makes me feel safe and secure knowing I can here and now. Safe and secure to know it is possible. I'm not under his spell or "brainwashing", I've made my own sick bed and I'll lie in it. The irony in the use of the word "lie."
I'd dreamt he and I were coming close to confronting my parents of our "plan to finally date each other" despite what obstacles they might think would come with the age gap. He was sure as he was in real life, but then, in a short instant, everything changed. He told me to forget about the whole thing, as if he didn't want to deal with the drama of it all. In a fit of rage and upset I literally ran and told my parents with the idea that if I just got it over with that maybe he wouldn't leave. I'm haunted by that small fear that the person I truly love will disappear.
We make love and bask in the delicate high of the chemicals stewing due to eachother's efforts. Is there anything more relaxing and naturally enjoyable to induce/experience with another being?
It's a mistake and almost an expectation to wish to be tangled with him all the nights of my life because I am refusing believe in a forever. But it makes me feel safe and secure knowing I can here and now. Safe and secure to know it is possible. I'm not under his spell or "brainwashing", I've made my own sick bed and I'll lie in it. The irony in the use of the word "lie."
Monday, July 22, 2013
Pipe Dream or Reality
Sleep deprived but satisfied and seemingly redeemed, he gazed at me and a smile grew. His eyelids struggled to stay open but he spoke to me with an eagerness and enthusiasm that I cherish like the world. That is why it was so easy to fall in love with him; that enthusiasm, his genuinity. I could listen to him speak all day, never getting a word in, I like his use of words far better--that's not to say that I don't believe I have anything significant to contribute. I suppose it's a new step: appreciating another person's time and openness to the extent of being content with just listening. Sure, I'd like to ask him silly, unrelated questions so to fill in the blanks: what is his favourite song? favourite colour? Favourite book? Favourite memory? I wanted to know more and more, and he's giving more than he shares with 95% of the people he's ever spoken to. I wanted him to tell me what his favourite beauty mark is out of all of the flecks on my skin, that I want him to remind me he thinks I'm beautiful now and then, say "I love you" not just when we part but whenever he feels it in his chest. But he has given my kisses on my forehead, my cheek, sometimes discretely at the back of my head so delicately I feel like I'm porcelain. I'm breakable so he never lets me fall too far, when he has...we've mended together. I long for a time when I will be able to see him more than once a week, that my family can see the source of half of my happiness and recognize the goodness in us being together. I want to lay with him and watch movies together at night, cuddled close together. I want to hear him laugh and be there for him when he's upset and deal with any shit that comes our way. I believe I can handle it, I won't be afraid of what people say and I'll give him the trust I can find...though that part of me is broken. I want him to take my hand and be proud to stand next to me and introduce me to his friends and family. I will be that girl. I want to be his and him to be mine.
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