the proud will not remain in peace
get this out get this out of me

THE PROBLEM ARISES WHEN SO MUCH TRUTH CAN SURFACE FROM WHAT IS ESSENTIALLY A LIE.

give my regards, yes, give my regards
i will not speak up this time around
all of this killing of my flesh has left me uneasy about the options that remain
so i look to the simple pleasures
driving home from work in a fog
seeing two men in a canoe on a river
& hoping for their happiness
things like that make me laugh out loud
taking hold of a strange sort of joy
in knowing that there is a standing offer of peace
it's just a matter of taking someone up on it
all of this fear of failure
keeping me alive, i suppose
but there are better things than just alive

regardless, it's still murder.

my fingers curl as i try to amend
things ive done & things ive left undone
yet the peace beyond my understanding
is filling in the cracks
& softening me
i will be silent before You

pale & beautiful,
on the way to the subway
you cut your finger to see if your blood is still warm.

and it is.

"well i'm staring straight into the face of hell
i'm so close & i cant even tell
& i'm so wrapped up inside
i dont have much to love"

peeling off like old wallpaper
& revealing what i wouldnt have touched in a million years
(but that was months ago
by now it has taken a life of its own)
sometimes i want it back
but now it is shredded & bits fall off everytime the ceiling fan whirrs
and pushes dust around the room
that held the mattress where you kissed me for the first time
one hundred pennies in a jar
i have been saving up for something
but for now i feel like the wallpaper
attached but not really a part of anything
you picked me out
what did you want?
my colors fade a little but i think now they are more becoming
(or maybe it's only the light of summer)

the only really heartbreaking thing of it all was the way you stayed to watch me get ready for bed...it probably wont ever happen again. & i am still in love with the way you have been in love with me, but that is a selfish sort of love & we both must be freed...i dont know what anything has really meant just yet...i am welcoming quiet corners & the silence of the loud music in my car. i still sleep with the teddy bear you gave me. he only has one arm & i guess that can mean whatever anyone wants it to mean.

i am building upwards like a pyramid
& with every new level i reach
parts of me have to fall down
to keep me balanced
so i am losing while i gain
but in that i must recognise
the finished product
& the final creation

we are pushing for a holiness we cannot understand.
we are afraid of the markings on the insides of our palms,
behind our ears,
on our lips.
we dont have to erase ourselves.
we need only to use the freedom we've been given,
within these rusting temples.

i am home but still driving away
& God throws the orange moon down in front of my face
as some sort of reminder
(i have forgotten, i have forgotten)
i would have given my very soul for something once
but now i am running from all of it
& wishing for a new home
i mean a place where i am held
(but held in an uncommon way -
to wake me & open me up)
after nights like this
we could sing each other to sleep
it's worth a risk
but it's never worth foolishness
tell me what i want
it's not that i dont want to think for myself
it's that ive done it over & again
& somehow always come up with the wrong answers

letters chain themselves together and fall off the tips of sandy tongues
to the spectator it's only nonsense
but all at once i am tripping over my own feet
and being glad for doing so
porcelain, ivory, plastic
no, no we are constructing roads
(& still i cling to the way that some people feel like home
regardless of the scenery)

there is a genius asleep in the back of a quiet car
angels only whisper
but take it as a sign that you're alive

elevators good lord i did not think there were going to be any elevators

i imagined myself as only skin & bones
not clutching any sort of earthly case
lifted up to God somehow

"do something pretty while you can
don't be a fool
reading the gospel to yourself
is fine"

we will color ourselves in with crayons
spending enough time in the sun
for the colors to melt and bleed
their definition of lovely won't stand a chance

i am so afraid of growing up
i want to be the little child you take by the hand
singing & walking
like nothing will ever cut anyone into pieces
and there is no such thing as a lesser evil

if it isn't now, then it never was.

the sky was so pretty, i opened the window to be that much nearer.

so i hope and wait and i hope and wait and i hope
that the mess i have grown and cared for
tended like a garden
cried alongside of (you were there, too, i remember)
will decide to cave in on itself
or, better yet
flowers will grow from underneath
pushing the soil until it sprays into my face
making me a mess
even worse when i cry
turning it to mud
on my eyes
i will see again
he has promised me that i would see

You are the only living person who has ever, without saying a word, caused me to wish desperately to change and become beautiful on the inside. Is that what love is?

and then there were two.

Ryster1878: but i don't think ideals are a good thing to base your relationship on
Ryster1878: perhaps goals and where you want to grow as a person

what it means to be lovely
is not necessarily what it means to grow up
peter pan and wendy
write book after book
but we are wrapped up in the beginnings
and not the current movements

the inconsistencies
are what make it worthwhile
anyway.

alive is something
rain twenty days
so i wont forget
that speck of sunshine
arms other than mine
are what matter the most
cuts and scrapes
to mark my presence
(i havent fled the scene)

hush and help.

we are alone, certainly
i cannot create words or pictures to erase what is attempting to eat us alive
but somehow we are granted the option of stepping together
i will dance with you tonight
the end is coming.
'what do you mean, what do you mean, my dear?'
we are unlucky fools who have been given a taste of grace
i am ready to go back for more
i am ready to go back
and forth into something we have both been writing
you are gorgeous in ways i cannot always decipher
one moment i am growing, stretching higher
and the next i am rotting away.

x is fallible
y is fallible
can something be done or undone?

i wish for a stronger grip
but i know that even then it could all pour through my fingers
dropping into water - a splash and that's that
eloquence is missing, i agree
but this is all that writes itself tonight

we don't make a living,
we are living.

i have realised that i want things to be my fault...
if they are my fault, then i should have control over them.
if they are my fault, i should have the power to fix them.
and when i am not at fault, i must be still & quiet.
(something i am only just learning to do.)

you leave markers & milestones where you stand
altars of heavy stone
i wait to see if they will only tip over
but they do not
not this time
they are steady
you are steady
it makes me hope i can do the same
it gives me strength
you give me strength

who we are, who we really are, is outside of time

"if time is the diamond
well alright
well alright"

we are in search of a satellite
to move us beyond
all (that) has been profaned
death is at our fingertips
we touch & fall
skinned knees
you have been a prophet
we all have
in the recesses of minds that would not draw forth words
any more than a statue could bring forth tears
it is outside intervention that is both the cause and the resolution
of our desperation

dear jesus i am not ready i am not ready

oh for a moment of peace..

there is inside of me
a kind of glass menagerie
& with all my careful dress
i am transparent less & less

the lamb & lover in my eyes
are hidden with clever (foolish) disguise

some days my eyes will not move enough. is it laziness or fear?

deep down, i still love what ive been trying to hate.

stairways sometimes make me dizzy.

catastrophes are averted daily.

the lucky [9.9.02]

we are made of blocks stacked together
hearts formed with origami
built up further
to unexpected heights
(days of fear
nights of unrest
circled with the impending disaster
upon falling earthward)
carefully constructed
purpose and beauty kept in clear view
aesthetics held in place
with plans of famous movements
heart folded up inside
bending its edges
but keeping its shape
we who were fed in childhood
take what we were given
and now hope to name it ourselves
we try to walk
to walk
to walk
to walk alone
is more dreadful
than expected
(again we offer anonymity
in exchange for candor)
so we the lucky
step together
in search of mirrors
(when found we analyse & scrutinise & paralyse)
attempting independence
shifting shape
forgetting the architect
and crediting the framework
to ourselves

9.11.02 [this is a prayer..]

you were behind the brilliant speeches that now lie underwater
where is your hand?
raise it up, show a scar or two
i am empty
self-propelled
(is it that distant now?)
god reveal yourself
i feel i am only pounding on stone
carved with images of saints
blocks removed for those who have fallen
this is desperation or resignation
reveal reveal reveal
[[do not put the lord your god to the test]]
...what now?

we dance together facelessly
until he speaks
and my eyes are made to focus again

my heart is made of origami
it threatens to come apart
the edges are bent
yet the center still holds its shape

i sometimes wonder whether i would make a good architect.

stretch me
stretch me across the operating table
reach underneath my skin
there are unnamed colors waiting for discovery
questions written across the elements that keep me alive
doctors in masks
eyes still visible
they will reach with a scalpel
they will reach for a photograph
they will pin up charts and predictions
and talk about them over coffee