Tuesday, October 30, 2007

Dear VOice in my head,

I hope you're still there. I hope everything is going well for you. I heard you don;t come out often now. I'm sorry if I neglected you, but as you would probably already be aware of--living inside my head, most of my energy and thoughts are spent on a certain person. Are you in fact the one who is responsible for my mild obsessive compulsion and my waste of mind power? Maybe that's why you're keep ing quiet because you, for once, are silenced and don't know what to say. Becuase you have been subdued defeated, and Logic your good friend and room mate have long fled the scene and left a mess for you to clean up.

Maybe it's because you are speechless, and all your flowery word plays and little tricks are no match for this inexplicable lack of control. Or maybe you got lost--knowing how my mind have been drifting lately, maybe you are stuck in some lost zone, having been distracted threading a story and was left behind whne my mind drifted off without you. Maybe you're like a child abandoned at some foresaken train station, waiting for smoeone to come pick you up again. I do miss you sometimes, come and visit me again soon. I miss you flowing out of my head like a tune, like a stream of sand, little grits all glistening and golden after a shower in incense of imagination. Thoughts and words I never knew I had inside me.

I'm sorry if my feelings recently have been moodswing-ish. did it scare you off? Or perhaps you are burnt up as fuel for my desires and longing. Or are you trying to teach me a lesson for having laughed at Shakespeare's Romeo and for thinking that he was a swine and a fool who was a fraud and was not the greatest lover the world has known. Now I understand how he has suffered in his banishment, and why he cried in the Friar's cell. Now I know. Perhaps the trick to making Romeo and Juliet believable is to cast too perfectly ordinary and plain people as romeo and Juliet....Will you come back and explain the world to me again?

Or are you jealous that I spend too much of my waking time thinking of that person? Maybe you're like a possessive sister, or you are trying to get me to quit a bad habit the hard way, but being aloof and hiding away from me is not helping much--just so you know.

Im miss you. Come back soon. My fingers are going cold waiting for you to make them dance on the keyboard again. Just to remind you, I am not a very patient person.

talk to you soon,
Me

Tuesday, October 09, 2007

Shit! Am I obsessing?
Is it freaking unhealthy?
Shit!
Shit
shit
I don't think I should hang on
bang on
getting an answer
perhaps it's just a lesson that
the world
is
an Uncertain place
where you have to live
with questions
msyteries
and the lack of an answer
the worst of all
regrets
.

I don't want these things
but
you don't choose to be born
and you don't choose alot of things.
I did choose you though
and to obsess
about your silence
which infuriates me
but I can't
choose to blame you
(yet)
Soon
I might
but now--just an unhealthy
amount of guessing
and wondering when I'll get too freaking
tired
of waiting.

I like black and white certainty
you win or you lose
a Yes or a No
not this
not
this

Shit
shit
shit
Stop obsessing

Move on
(not yet)
Let it go
(wait)

Wednesday, October 03, 2007

Sometimes,
I wonder at myself
my immaturity
my impatience
insecurities
My weapon against the world
and my weakness:
my pride
logics and reasons--the old man at the back of my head
droning,
which I rely on
as much
as that airy fairy
barefooted nymph dancing on diamond dew
grass
green
singing, laughing spitting
fire
spewing tears.
And this new being
a desire
which burns in my groins
and consumes me
my singed hair
and burning eyes
flaming with tears whcihc spring from nowhere
of an unknown origin.
Probably the bastard child of the imagination, fascination, and
biological chemical reactions.
The attraction cannot be pared down to science nor reduced to poetry.
And this fire
cannot be quelled
by either
the wisdom of the old
or the innocence of the young
It is that in between grey
of that indefinable
space
from which its romanticized name
was born
bloody
still with its umblical chord strumming
like those on a guitar or a piano
sending out vibrantions and chills
every time you are next to me
and my wise man and playful nymph falls silent
only this space remains
waiting for you to step forward into that sacred space.