Finding the Schwa

Posts tagged spilled ink

I’m not very good at this friend-making business.
I sit in my room and make friends with the shadows on the walls and with the books in my hands.
No one ever told me I should make friends with people.

I sit in the tub watching the water lap softly against my skin like the ocean beats itself against the sandy shore but all I hear are the faint dribblings of water on the floor as the waves I create spill over the ceramic base and hit the fine cold grid my feet cringe away from. Steam rises in pillars of smoke that creates a hazy atmosphere that I slowly sink into as I drift into space. My hair billows out from my core. I raise a pair of rusty, orange plastic pair of scissors and place them unhinged next to my head. Snip. Slosh. The water surface breaks as my lungs reach for air in the space between ceiling and water. Hair falls away onto my shoulders and linger for eternity until I wash them away. I am swimming in a tub of fat bubbles and follicles clinging to the edges of salvation. My skin is dark and hairy. I reach through the grit and pull the plug and watch with a grim satisfaction as the hair gets caught in the net and a soapy residue is left behind as a ring is formed on a tree as it ages. My head is light. Pounds of nothing have been snipped away and now I shake my head and feel the soft rounded ends fly away like wings from my skull. I emerge from the filmy cocoon of temperature and water and clothe myself. A tub of ice cream is waiting for me in the fridge.

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Yesterday I watched a couple through the steamy, snowy grit windows of the bus. The girl stood on her tiptoes and tilted her head back while the boy leaned down at the slightest angle. Then their lips met. For an eternity time stood still and watched their embrace with feathery snow angels falling onto their shoulders. I couldn’t avert my eyes. It was wrong, I know, to intrude unknowingly into this tender moment. And yet I was captivated. I stared, my eyes transfixed, and yet oddly I held no emotion in my heart. There was only silence, echoed by the rumble of the bus engine as the doors pulled close and the vehicle moved down the street. Only in that instant, as if alerted to the outside world, did they pull apart. But they were not embarrassed, only ecstatic. Happy to know they could get lost in themselves like they did when he first held feelings for her and when she first felt the stirrings of weakness in her heart. It reminded me of my own heart and the feelings that I cannot quite understand yet, how the earth moves underneath my feet as I walk down muddied slopes and yet my shadow elongates in a different direction, taking me east. I can do nothing but move forward and wait for my shadow to return to me, and I hope it always does. If the day ever came where it never returned, I would surely wonder where it eloped off to and hope it finds happiness. Perhaps it will find a happiness within the snow. In the dark. And be watched and envied from bus windows.

The water trails left behind by melted snow

the melted trails left behind by snow

the water trails left behind by forgotten snow

the puddles left by trailed snow

the puddles pooling after melted snow

My breath fans out like walking through clouds

my breath disappears like cigarette smoke

my breath steams the air to a higher plane

my breath exits my mouth to form clouds

my breath is the fog

my breath contributes to the clouds

We are walking down a slippery slope

there is a slippery slope

that is a slipper slope we are falling down

before us lies a slippery slope and we must climb

slipper slopes are similar to slippery slopes

when we were young there were trains that could carry you to the end of the world but now they lie in a heaped junkyard, collecting moss and broken things. sometimes the birds will fly in from the journey south and land on the sharp corners to discover that everything has already begun to rot. their white wings shine brightly in comparison and they soon leave. to the south of the yard is a river that curves from west to east and in the summer dragonflies buzz through the tall stalks on the banks and their wings beat out the pleasure of mating. mother ducks lead their young through the currents and the children follow earnestly because they have no where else to go. once in a while there will be a group of teenage boys who light out to the pier and smoke a fag or two, kicking coke cans with their torn up shoes. their mothers work 9 to 5 jobs but the sons don’t care. they weren’t and aren’t loved enough so now they show no love to the land that they think has forgotten them and given them up to the wildness that grows in their actions and thoughts. too bad they never discovered the time of trains.

all my love
i give to you
so let it drown
in beats or two
upon this ample brow
i bestow a clue
cleaved in the middle
of a lovestruck child
but how
with winter’s fading
duly noticed chilling
clings to bare limbs
and fall gracelessly
to the pavement
on shattered shins

I used to stand up there
atop a pedestal full of sand
and when the tide came in
everything was washed away
so I was left with a well
sinking slowly around my feet.

—This poem was inspired by revelationsoflife. It was more of a spinoff.

insomniac misfit judgmental suicidal purist electric eclectic golden fake wood-worked pacifist honed murdered inclined crazy determined matched forgotten weak tempered heavy broken muddied drenched pure strong submissive clueless trustworthy angelic poor tasteful accidental leech dirty influential psychic extra-terrestrial anemic emotional ironic alcoholic human

She Said, She Said

She said I can’t control it
but really it’s that she doesn’t want to
She said He doesn’t love me
who ever said you loved him at all?

She says she’s got the world
wrapped up in a blanket
of woven secrets and things
trying to break out, break out
of the shell

There’s more to life
than happiness in a bottle
except artificial is always better
like juice boxes
and sadness

She said she wants to change
be something more than a name
when the only course she takes
is pouring drinks
to be drained

Here’s to magic
wishing of a better tomorrow
you won’t remember it
never do
but whatever, here’s to you.

be my witness
raise the seas in jubilation
for tonight
the choir sings

round yourself out
in a show of light phantasms
marching to the beat
of eagles flying

my heart
jumps wildly with imagination
in gasps
of adoration

his smallest caresses
send the largest shivers
around the track

bear witness
as I stain these lips red
to the sin
of a naked bed.

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