this isn't about life

this isn’t about life,
this is about love
and living
and loving
loving until your heart breaks so many times the cracks hurt when you move,
living until everywhere feels like home and everything tastes like passion
this is about the tiny palms that hold your fingers,
wrapping around them and holding on as if to whisper,
“I’m here, I’m alive,” the blood pumping under her skin, tinting it pink like her new jumper.
this is about laughing so hard your insides shake,
tears stinging your eyes and your brain scattered in ecstatic sparks,
this is about the time when she cried in the closet until her ears rang and her legs fell asleep,
closing her eyes to keep it all in, the tears and the pain
they never wanted her to feel this,
but she did anyway.

this isn’t about life,
this is about the boy who threw the bracelet at her and pedaled away,
the boy who prank called her 28 times,
the one who loved her eyelashes,
the one who ran off the doorstep,
the one who couldn’t claim her,
the boy who couldn’t choose.
this is about her heart beating at night, praying for a hug,
praying for the love she felt could keep her safe, holding herself between her sheets.

this is about waking up in the morning and smiling back at the sun,
filling herself with love until she loved more than she knew
walked the length of the city more times than she could count
hugged and helped and served and sang
this is about moments
moments that define, moments that sting, moments that dance
not just living because your lungs are moving and your heart is pumping
but because you’re surrounded by the poignant reminder of lives and purpose and after

after, when everything will be different,
transitions and change beating down on you like a mallet on a wooden post,
shifting perspective,
challenging yourself to keep the doors open even though it hurts
maybe that’s how it is
after living,
after loving,
after hurting

this isn’t about life.
it’s about two weeks ago, it’s about today,
how at once she’s beside him and the next she can’t be
where you can reach and not touch,
speak and not be heard
where the foundation is hope and some twisted notion of faith
faith in something you can’t see but faith that keeps us together,
keeps her from tearing herself to pieces and
keeps her from the foggy pollution she breathes in
this is about her eyes when they close at night
and the reality of the dreams that dance in her head
the reflection of the emotions she can never express
the fight between her body and soul
how long will it be
before they can work together?

this isn’t about life.
this is about love,
this is about living and loving,
reaching and trying harder than you have before,
squinting until your head hurts,
wishing until you feel,
feeling so that you’re living,
living so that you can love.

breezes

the door slams behind me,
feet tripping over each other to get outside
cold air fingers through my hair,
wrapping me in its open arms
my breath releases into it,
fluid, haphazardly, weaving itself into the outside
reckless thing.
my sigh is taken painlessly from me,
and I feel icy fingers reaching down my throat,
prying open my fear,
eating at my sorrow,
peeling me open to reveal only the softest parts,
I close my eyes.

its never really dark,
my veins dancing behind my eyes,
movement threatening me even behind eyelids,
colors bubbling underneath and kissing my pupils
my chest rises with the wind, organs pressing
against my ribs, asking to be freed,
pleading for liberation,
a purpose,
anything.

my eyes blink open as shards of grass prick my skin,
the breath slipping out of my stomach and back,
into the world where it came from but
somehow different,
transformed but invisible,
escaping constraints that once held it down
joining the musical strands that make up the atmosphere.

“take me with you,” I cry,
but its taken my voice with it
and left nothing but emotion,
raw, manipulative feelings that
constrict my heart and pump my blood
faster, faster,
hotter,
until all I can feel is love,
disappointment,
sadness,
longing,
and I dissolve into it as my hair falls to my shoulders
and I trap my breath in my throat.

menu

MENU

Starters

Ice Cold Glare--served below room temperature with a 

mild zingy hate reduction

Middle Finger--(seasonal), good for sharing. Served

piping hot with two raised eyebrows

Flaming Fury--customer favorite, a sampler of spicy yelling, 

mild tantrum and internal strife

Main

Appropriate Response--Mild, tasteless meat served with

your choice of tears or silence and a depressing aftertaste

Sweet and Sour--Our classic sweet and sour meat, served

with seasonal apology and useless hugs

Hungry Man's Helping--The works, hard for weak stomachs, but 

better for you in the end. 

Dessert

Teary-eyed Crumble--The kind of apology everybody likes

Molten Hot Cake--Sweet to the taste. Can be explosive

We hope you find your meal satisfactory. Our drink menu

can be found right before your argument. 

Thank you for your business.

new

there aren't enough emotions to describe what I'm feeling. I don't know where to write about it, or who to talk to about it, because whenever I try, it comes out broken like ice shards or as hot as glowing coals. its something like love but something like anger, sprinkled with jealous notes with an aftertaste of confusion. every thought that comes in one end changes before it exits, chased away by a contradiction. certainty is something I chase, but confusion isn't everything that I feel. prick me and I'll pop, nudge me and I'll harden. my heart turns in minutes from soft to silent, bitter to open, and I don't know who I want to be. one hour I'm ready to conquer the world, the next I'm hiding myself from the world. do I want to help, or do I need to hide? have I hit the bottom, or am I climbing higher? where are my feet planted--in love, or in law? my loyalties are strewn in every corner of the rocky road, and pieces of myself are glued to different people. i've lost the respect of people I love and I can't respect myself in the process. starving for affirmations, my lungs breathe in any attention they can get and weep when i'm alone. as soon as I feel something is right, that I'm doing the right thing, going in the right way, and then something pushes me back and i'm forced to backtrack, back to the place i was, away from the progress i've made. i'm constantly searching for a solution and tunneling myself back into a damp hole without direction. i guess it's me, i guess it's me.