PoeticaL
cluttering the net since 2001

hear comes the tide

Tuesday, May. 25, 2004
You are my best friend, most days you are my only friend. Sometimes I donít understand why I donít let too many more people come in. Thereís a big party in my mind. You asked me why and how I was so much fun to be around and I can only say that itís because I am a party. A party for one. Youíre just happy to be invited, arenít you, even though you canít come for cake.

I walk sideways on most days and most nights I am straightforward like a car crash. You donít see those moments. He ďseaísĒ those moments like the waves of anger that they are, the moments of in-clarity, the twin brother of insanity. The moments that make me burn through my past like a train wreck until I land feet up in a closet full of dustridden soles. I am lost. You donít see that part of me. The lost side. You see the happy girl banging on her horn in mid-day traffic. You see the rap free style when I am almost always more like Plath.

You know me, but do you know what it is to be around me, near meÖpart of me. You hear syllables and build your own speeches. I am a scream, a long hollow scream that echoes across empty beaches. I just want someone to love me enough that they will dance if I drown, but they canít rejoice if I falter, they expect nothing and get everything because it is only then that I have the full aptitude to give my all. I want you to keep up the guise that anything is possible, that blank pages donít exist. I want to write a love story about you, where I win the entire accolade.

I want to get married wearing daisies and words. I want to walk down a path of poetry on the floor and watch petals fall from the sky. I want doves to sing lullabies and I want you to be next to me. I want to tell you in front of god that you are the one. I just canít figure out if you know me, or someone else you choose to see. I canít figure out why you wonít ask me. I canít figure out if I want this or just fixate on the well without water whenever I feel completely dry.
3:39 p.m. ::
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