1/16/2012

Amnesia

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I see them everywhere, those that people recognize.

They're on billboards, television and department stores.
I even see some of them with my ears when they're on the radio, but that's not all. They're hiding in my magazines, on the web and putting themselves out when they're on stage.
We envy them, we hate them. We adore them and at times even ignore them. I don't understand why there are so many of them, but we're not even close to knowing about half.
I find them slinking around local bars and restaurants, even in the grocery stores.
There's so much expected of them: Charity, volunteering, role modeling. Work, busy, work.
We see them as super-humans, a hero perhaps. Maybe even an imaginary being that can't possibly exist. A display to look at? A picture to pick apart their flaws and criticize their strengths?
What most people forget...
Must I remind you?

They're still just kids.

10/22/2011

Things We Say

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Funny things, words.


As empty as they are, you can fill them up with anything you want--the world is yours as long as you say it. That is, until I say it too, then we'd have a Word War between you and me. WWI ? WWII? No, this will be WWIII & the number of casualties will only be 1, either you or me. Don't underestimate the severity of this warfare, there's too many of them going on and too many clever strategies.

Your words can be smothered with hope.
But mine? They're bombs full of hurt.

10/22/2011

Supernova Girl

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We all knew that since the day we met her.

There's nothing we can do or stop her, she does what she pleases.
We love her, we hate her, there's not enough of her.
She can amuse the least amused and repulse the least repulsed, there's nothing out of her league.
She leaps when she's supposed to walk, she spins when she's supposed to turn.
She's a curve, not a line and not in italics but a bold with double underlines.
She's a storm in a shade of blue and an inferno waiting to combust.
She considers the unconsidered and ignores the common considerations.
She's a bow in the hair and a bullet in a gun.
She's the plug in the socket and the leak in the roof.
What can I say?

She can blow up at any moment.
She's a dying star.

10/13/2011

Painted Wings

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Someone once said that girls who've had their hearts broken become more beautiful.

Maybe it's the countless tears that make their eye shine like stars but with more emotion than what any star can show. Or perhaps the forced smile that we often can relate to. Maybe it's the way they start taking care of themselves more when there's no special man for them to worry about. Sometimes I think its in their walk the day after and the day after that until someone else comes around. The way they pick bits of themselves, and perhaps some of him in the midst of it, up to move forward. I believe its also their experience of the whole love, and most importantly if they're abandoned & scarred or grateful. And rain can fall down on us angry and sad.
"Can't always believe what people say," people say, but we do believe what we say. Most of the time, anyways.

But I am curious...
I wonder who said that.

10/05/2011

Partial Metering

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I know why time moves. Its because our world is constantly spinning spinning spinning and loves to dance around the the light of its life--the sun.
I don't know why time doesn't stop. Never. Not if its own kind is out of electricity or by our own attempts through fraud light. It'll keep going with or without a thought of whats happening to it, us or them. I don't understand why it doesn't stop. Does it have no emotion? Then when it is exposed in the physical form, why does it keep a face?

I know why I love. Its because without him, her and them I would find myself lost lost lost and ever so lonely but more than that miserable.
I don't know why love heals and hurts both just as evenly. It takes nearly nothing but a smile or glance and nearly everything of a word to do either. It'll be kind, it'll be cruel to anyone it pleases. I don't understand why one thing can be so contradictory. Does it not feel its very own definition? Then when its acting up, why can't we ever let go?

I know why you act the way you do. Its because your character, your likes and dislikes, those childhood games now grown into adult responsibility: they all have a part in this play of your life. They fluctuate, expand, grow and stretch, keep changing changing changing.
I don't know why you are the way you are, but...


The things I know and the things I don't...
I think I'll be ok with half of each.

9/29/2011

Core of the Fruit

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I once knew a girl.


One of the most beautiful in the school.
Many boys would comment on her beauty and figure in the halls, in the classes.
She didn't really have any close friends though, if any.
I liked to observe this girl, and I even talked to her.

But the more you got to know her, the less pretty she became.

8/29/2011

That _____.

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Do you know that _______ you get when you see the one you love

sleeping next to you? When they're the most __________ and you've
silently been given the honor to be by them through the night?
That _______ in the pits of your center when you're watching them walk away, even though you know you'll see them again soon. The way you know just what they're thinking or what they're going to say moments before yet its always so ________.
How sometimes words just aren't enough to express the ____ you want to say or show. & Even then you're not quite sure how to _______ the things you want them to _____.
Everything in the back of your mind moments between the second hand;

All at once you're back in that dark room, with the sun peeking shyly through the window and the alarm clock on the nightstand ticking cautiously.
&& then...
Suddenly you can imagine your whole future with them with no end.


I want to speak their language and hear their voices.
I want to listen to their soundless words and realize how similar we really can be.

I want to know what they hear and what they think of it.
I want to be able to call their name across the field and see them turn around.

I want to open my mouth and be acknowledged.
I want to express myself without the use of words and be understood.

What I want most is to share the silent half of the universe to this world and still be accepted as I am for who I am.
But most of all, I want them to be able to hear music and the indescribable beauty behind every note and pitch...
So I take them by the hand and I draw them into a stepless dance that only we can dance to.

8/05/2011

A Dream Full of Tears

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Well, we made Fey (though not my name or how I'm known, who I guess we can say is me) cry, and Sabaki (who virtually I suppose we can call you) cry. And we made an Angel and Thor cry too when they heard about it; it must've been powerful. && our companions! They are not like us-physically built being and conceivably their mental health. Their senses went awry and we've tried to explain ourselves and, most importantly our stories, but I'm not sure if it is they who don't understand or us who can't be certain that we understand the way they understand us. However, if language isn't how we'll communicate: They can listen to our hearts and once they heard, they too couldn't look us in the eye and had to cast their eyes down to cry...

You might be wondering what it is we all know, but if you take the time to truly listen to yourself perhaps you might hear something you've never heard of before or something you've been telling yourself for the longest time.

These tears that we all cry.
I leave it up to you to decide if they're of sorrow, relief, maybe euphoria, or something not quite in between.