the sounds fade away from the noises we have come to know the sands call us prehistoric dust want to coat our skin i have never known coax me to invite the seekers
love's sweet, dry embrace over the future's twinkie feign at a 7-eleven, after waiting in a nine to five line of what are we doing?
A distant star returned to earth, to gather the rest of her dust left behind, with nails and arms, she steals the rest of us I lay right down and tap the ground, convinced that I'd been had the star she hears and turns around to say its not so bad "For I have been nothing and all, over and over again To stop and take a fall is where a wish begins And you, your hands make lovely sound so let the music play For you too will find yourself by giving it all away"
The other woman who keeps you occupied time tearing off your nails I stole a drink, a starry ceiling was our witness a wink and conversation that makes me think the other woman is there to give you all the missing pieces the puzzle didn't come with you can't return the other woman scribbling in the blanks with meanings adjectives and needs I never knew you could fill, wanted that kind of complication Go on and dance with her and take her home and love her cause your complaints are only as real as the king cursing his dull coins And arrows will never pierce such a greedy heart for I should have realized I was the other woman from the start.
It’s not so easy to put yourself out there and tell the world about that awkward AA meeting or STD check-up, even if it was hilarious.
The greatest writing material on earth usually stays unwritten.
Even if adoration follows, it’s difficult to relive those intense moments, knowing the wheels of judgment are turning away behind each face that hears. So we stay silent and make crap movies and write shitty stories because we’re afraid to show the best of ourselves.
And then, when it’s all over, who really knew us? Who did we really know?
I went to a workshop a couple days ago and witnessed our blockades in action. I was partnered up with an older woman for an exercise where we had to stare into each other’s eyes for a minute and a half. When the countdown started she shifted around in her seat and nervously looked around my head.
“This is hard…” she said as her eyes darted everywhere but to my own.
I wondered why she wouldn’t look. Was my breath bad? Was my stare intimidating? Was it because I was a stranger? Insecurity forced me to look around the room to see if everyone was going through the same difficulties, but they weren’t, not everyone.
I looked back at my little old lady who refused to look into my eyes for more than a couple seconds and it hit me. It really wasn’t about me, she was just afraid. Once someone gets the chance to look in, what could one find out? She didn’t want me to know her, the darkness and beauty that lurked behind those doors to her soul. The secrecy was infectious, how weird did I feel staring at a woman with running eyes?! I had to look away too. Not that I knock her, really, because behind mine, I hold the best parts of me to spite the worst.
