the Path to Mannequin ManhoodHis first job was at Macy's. They hired him to stand there and deliver a message to every passing customer: "You can buy everything in the store, but you still won't look as good as I do. You'll never have the life I look like I should have." Girls would pass by and marvel at his carefully crafted features, admire his acting talent, then discreetly write their numbers on his hands and spend the next week waiting by the phone. Most never got a call back. If he ever called one, it was out of curiosity. Once his curiosity was satisfied, he'd tell her it was over and he'd get back to his life.He lost that job shortly after falling in love with a mannequin from the ladies' section. He did everything he could think of to catch her eye: sneaked over to talk to her while the manager wasn't looking, wore her favorite brands, complimented her outfits, but no matter what, she would only ever look in one direction, and it was never his. On the day he met her fiancé, his body broke apart. His
Fall. We always fall together. We fell in love with each other.And later, whenYou fell out of love with me(and fell under her spell) I fell from the pedestal you'd put me on. I fell from cloud n
O, For A Muse Of FireShe liked to watch him play the violin. She wasn't sure why - but she could not truthfully imagine anything more pleasurable than crouching down near to where he stood in all his rag-festooned glory, the ground at his feet littered with old newspaper and discarded plastic cups - and just listening , her bright eyes fixed on the long, crooked nose bent toward his instrument and the lengthy shadow he cast, set to trembling by the flickering light of passing subway cars.It gave her a curious sense of ownership, and of pride, to know that she alone, out of all the people who had ever heard this music, understood the melodies that this man wove like tapestries of light over the deafened ears of men and women who rushed past day in and day out. She, alone, knew that to fling coins into the battered violin case sitting open beside him with that careless flick of the benevolent, alm-giving wrist would be as much of an insult to him as a slap in the face - perhaps moreso.He was not an old man
Sister, can you spare me a seashell?I. Last week she had asked me, "Sister, can you spare me a seashell? This town it is loud, but my thoughts, they are louder. I need to drown them like so many sailors lost in a sudden storm." I told her that she needed to seek help instead of seashells; they did not hold the ocean and could not drown her thoughts. Then my frustration melted to see her so suddenly as I had not since we were children, when she would beg, her eyes wide with fear, to check beneath our bed before she could sleep. She was scared of the dark and the darkness never seemed to leave her. She looked so small as she walked away without the hope she came for and so broken when she paused by the door to say, "but I have tried everything else."II. I saw her yesterday, sleeping in the shallows with her feet
Losing Me To ThisDead air kills me slowly.I can not imagine what lies beneath the surface,and what lies are masked by this silence,heavy as a Southern summer nightin June, when the air is sultry,and the wind breathes not at all.But I won't try to unravel his riddle,because it only makes me bleed out faster.The beep is a preludeto the mockery of his voicemail greeting:"I'm not here to take your call,leave your name and numberand I will get back to youas soon as I can,"but I'm bleeding,and the tone is not a beep,it is a bullet,for I hear:"I am not taking your calls,since I know who you are -I've gone away in search of bettereverything and everyone,and I won't be coming back."I crash to the floor...there is a crack in the ceilingthat needs to be taken care of,just as soon as I clear those stars from my eyes
Waking up cold on the kitchen floor,head splitting, body aching,crying as I stare at the crack in the ceiling.He isn't here and he still hasn't called.It ha
Charity BallsDearest Karen,I never wanted to be that person, you know. That overly-sentimental, fatherly figure that tells stories from the “good old days” and smokes cigars because he doesn’t really care about getting lung cancer anymore. And I’m sure, wherever you are, you’re laughing your little blonde head off, because you never would have expected it. You married a rebel, and now look at me. I’m normal. I fit in. I go with the flow and it’s ridiculously easy.It’s also ridiculously boring, you know. I didn’t realize how freaking reliant I was on you to entertain me until, well, you weren’t here anymore. You were always the one who woke up in the morning with buckets of energy, who baked cookies and pineapple-upside-down cupcakes, who made plans for nature hikes and community service. You dragged me out of the house to fundraisers and charity balls, and hell, I’d never even heard of a charity ball until I met you.Because
InsomniaInsomnia has shown me what my dreams can't,the truth.Sleep eludes me and so do you.My mind won't let me rest, too busy thinking ofwhat I never say.All the things I long for won't sleepand they won't let me.In these waking hours I'm lostin a wake of haunting want.What I have and what I desire never meetbut you're all I'll ever need.My eyes won't shut and my heartwon't move.Insomnia has shown me what my dreams can't,I need you.
Describe What We Have, He SaidWhat we have isa little bit of a fairytale,a part of a storyand a taste of a slightly star crossed romance;mixed in a half written sad songwritten on pages of blue ink,carried away in the wind.It's beautiful,it's a little broken,but it's strong enoughto stand on it's own.Just like us.
DenialI keep myself in the dark,because as long as I'm blindI can't see my heart break.And for all you or I knowI'm just fine.
Choking on SilenceSilenceSilence and your eyeswatching meto see what I do nextto see how can I embarrass myself furtherMaybe I can shout outhow my lungs feelwhen you leavehow they tighten within my chestI can't do this anymore!I could tell youhow my arms have the burning desireto hold youand never let goIt doesn't matter thoughwhy would it matter?when I see you pulling awaymy hands reach out to grab youbut I catch only airYou've disappearedIs it the words I've said?because I can take them back if you want me tosuck the air back into to my lungsso maybe they won't be so tight anymoreBut no, I start to chokeMy heart beating wildly in my chestbecause I know I'll never see you againmy body shakingmy mind feels like its caving in on itselfAnd all of thisin silenceyou won't let me hear your voiceor see your eyesare you scared of what I'll find there?everything you've bottled up and thrown awayWhen I met youI think I was in the same place you threw that bottleand my throat
Under the WorldThe darkness stole my life away,I used to be the queen of May.Though I still have some days of light,more often I am trapped in night.Listlessly floating as a shade,while I long for the verdant gladewhere wild flowers loved me so,my face no longer do they know.These troubles weigh on whitened brow;my mother can not help me now.To woe eternal I am lost.What have I done to pay this cost?There are no means, there are no ends -now echos are my only friends.
Seared Lungs Sing SweeterSeared lungs sing sweeter,so burn, baby, burn.I'm a child of fire.I yearn, how I yearn!Don't give me flowers;I crave gasoline.Charm has no powersover this machine.My bones are matchsticks -let's turn up the light.It's time to transfix,watch me spark the night.So come, let us burn,with no time for prayer.We'll burn, baby, burnwith ecstatic flare.Let us die tonight,die a thousand deaths.While we're burning brightsmoke will be our breaths.Come, set a fire,a blazing nocturne,here in my bier,and we'll burn, burn, burnupon a pyreof deep desire,glowing like phosphorin sweetest rapture.Lover, come closer,I promise you'll learnseared lungs sing sweeter,so burn, baby, burn.
i don't want to tell you i love youi don't want to tell you"i love you"because the wordswould just tumble out of my mouthlike niagara falls,and wouldn't mean anythinguntil you cradled me in your arms[those slender made-of-moonlight arms]and act like it hurts youto see me cry.even if it's just an act,i want it.i don't want to tell you"i love you"because it'll justrush the relationship,make it go too fast for youemotionally,because you just want a quick fuck.one night of mistakesto write on the walls of my subconsciousforever.i want you to invest your heartin someone as broken as me.even if it's just an act,i want it.i don't want to tell you"i love you"because then you'll leave melike all the rest;all the others that said"i love you too"and disappeared.i want you to actlike you want to stay.even if it's just an act,i want it.i don't want to tell you"i love you"because last night you hit me,the back of your handblossoming blues and purplesacross my cheek.you claim you didn't know
SkinI watch,I touch,and I understand.I taste stress in your sweat,tension stretched on the surface,so visiblein the landscape of yourback.I feelknots in your muscles,like pearls undersatin.I'll untie the ropesand kiss the blankred ribbonsof your broad browand I'll writeyou letterson my chest,things like silver liesand soft secrets,and wires of frigid truthbecause the truth ismy veryskindemands you.so kiss me back,strike a pose,be a bodyand let our bodiesjuxtapose like slow jazzand your fragile ears.take a deep breathof me andexhale yourselfas you tell youraching body that I miss it too