Rotten - Part II

Some people are lying, cheating, selfish, entitled, dirty, disrespectful, dishonest, greedy, gold digging whores who will never achieve or amount to anything on their own. So instead, they suck every last drop and twist every last inch from anyone genuinely kind enough to offer anything, everything, constantly and without question. You know who you are and also how completely filthy and worthless you are. I hope to the gods that at night you are haunted viciously and consumingly by the empty bitterness and heavy recognition of your own true, inadequate, pathetic self. And I hope that your dreams taunt you and wake you with sweats from an image so horrific and ugly enough to match that of your own. Rotten and mirrored, the putrid picture of your failed self staring back at you which you have so disturbingly managed to fake during the hours you are awake. Anyone that possesses even an inch of depth of a fragment of soul will -if they have not already- see clearly, soon enough, your despicable ways and that make-believe pedestal you have built for yourself will surely come crumbling down. Leaving you in tatters which is exactly where you belong. Then...  slowly, painfully and destructively, shall you continue to fail and fall with the same immoral, corrupt nature you have already so magnificently mastered.

Build A Home

I had to go and pick up a cable I left at the old place tonight... It's so empty now... So ready for someone new to come and love it as much as we did. And I couldn't help but remember everything that had happened there. It was like every moment, feeling, good time and bad time flashed before my eyes right as I went to close the door to leave. Every creek in the floor, every crack of light in that place, every corner and every inch I know almost as well as I knew the person I shared all those moments with. Every dinner, every fight, every laugh, every bit of love... And every Sunday afternoon we built it together. It's funny how memories can do that to you. On the way home I bought some watermelon and coconut water... It's getting to be that time of the year again. And I couldn't help but remember how excited we were the last time I saw that place so empty... At the possibilities that stood before us and what the idea of making that our home meant. I'm sentimental, I know. But coming home tonight, to my new home... I couldn't help but to choose to remember only the good things that happened at 130 south 1st street. It was a beautiful home, and it was ours. I'll always remember it, love it, just as I did and do you. Thank you for all of it, the good and the bad... And for sharing such a special time and place with me. We built a home, for you... for me... and now it's time to leave and turn to dust. 

x

To love... 

And the people we find along our journey that show us, make us, challenge us, hold us, feel us and nurture us... 

To the feeling of having love, experiencing it, exploring it and nourishing it.... 

To loving.... 

To having been loved... 

To giving and receiving it... 

To the bountiful ways in which we are able to share in it.... 

To two kids who fell in love and jumped off the cliff with their eyes shut tight... 

Because they believed in it.... 

Maybe we should have known better... 

But then we'd never have all the beautiful memories to look back on... 

And who could ever be mad at that? 

To young, free, beautiful love... 

And to the human who I have always loved the very most.

x

Seventeen Shapes (But I only need this one)

I keep asking where you are
For no reason at all because who really cares
Six months we have been done
And yet, every now and then
I think of you and wonder where you are
Because there's no one who knows me quite like you do
Knows the lines and shapes of my body
And those quiet moments of "us"
Usually in some sort of tightly entangled spoon position
Made up for all the loudness that is this city
And even if those moments became rare
Or were short lived at the end
I miss those moments that our shapes fit
So perfectly together
And I can't help but think
How nice it would be to have two shapes fit again
In that way that you and I did
Every now and again
When nothing else quite makes sense
I'd give an arm and a leg to feel the shape that is you
Fit behind the shape that is me
And lay for just a moment
In a second so honest and well known
So still to this day and "always" on seventeen
I wish for the comfort of your body against mine
Because making shapes with you
Is a feeling I'll maybe, possibly, probably
"Always" miss.

"I found him in the fall and will stand beside him forever"

It only takes two falls for everything to change, to shake the pages of your life like the trees shed their leaves. Perhaps by next fall my leaves will have taken on a whole new form and have learnt a wonderful new color... one I've never known before.

"Sometimes I wish I was someone else. Or that he was. Or maybe that we both were. I don't seem to know anymore what thoughts are actual memories or if I'm longing for an affection so deeply that I've begun to reminisce about experiences that possibly never happened at all.

The thoughts become one big blurry trail. A winding, muddy track covered in leaves that scatter in a mess over the moments I hold dearest. Blanketing the encounters I cherish most and painfully long to feel once again.

Sometimes I don't know what he sees when he looks at me, or rather if he feels much of anything for me at all anymore. If only he knew what I thought when I looked at him though. Would it or could it make a difference? Those eyes, his eyes that make me melt, every single time.. as if it were the first time I was looking into them.

I sat beside him on a train today. We sat in almost dead silence next to each other as the train ran tightly by the Hudson River. We watched quietly the beautiful scenery dancing by us and ooh'd and aah'd occasionally until the soothing hum of the trains engine and the minor vibration of the wheels on the track lulled him to sleep. Watching him as he peacefully slept beside me, I couldn't help but ponder what the day would have in store for us. I pictured beautiful mountains painted fall browns, full of amber, orange and crimson leaved trees, glistening water that would reflect the stunning autumn light and him, the man I love standing beside me. Laughing, smiling, loving. I thought of doing things we have never done before. To find a patch of those colorful, fallen leaves and ask him to make love to me then and there. I wanted his lips on mine and his skin pressed against me despite any sting from the disabling cold of this Autumn's bitter breath.

Fantasies are fantasies for a reason, it is very rare they come true and despite all my willing and might, we apparently are no exception to the rule. 

I don't want to become my past. Nor create an empty future and that is perhaps the most paralyzing and gut-wrenching conundrum to be trapped in. It's an annoying little riddle I can't seem to solve or the impossible puzzle only I hold the last piece to but annoyingly, perhaps somewhere I have in my subconscious, deliberately misplaced so as to avoid a devastating yet inevitable truth. If I just push it away for just a little bit longer, maybe this fairytale will last.

But suddenly I'm awake, and it's all completely gone. 

"Too many kisses, too many kisses Tals" is all that is left ringing in my head."

-  written in Autumn 2014.

Bowen Berg Dream

I still remember the first time you stayed the night
I remember thinking about how awkward it could potentially be
To have someone new sleep in a place
Where someone old had been
Then I remembered that's how it has always gone
In times before
That someone new moves in
Where someone old moved out
Jobs. Apartments. Relationships.
They're all the same
Alike in behaviors and routined departures
Fluttering memories scattered around
Everyone and everything is replaceable
In time. With time.
I think we'd probably had too much to drink the first time you slept in my bed
Because I don't remember a whole lot about it
What I do remember though is the morning after
The way your arms clung neatly around my frame
As if I was your very own precious little package
That would remain safely in your arms
For the rest of all time
I remember it being warm in the room
And I remember the different stages of light
Trickling in
As the night changed to morning
And the sun came out to play
Although it wasn't actually sunny that day
But rainy and grey
I remember being restless and unable to calm
Your body moved with mine
As I wriggled between the sheets
Your arms gripping tighter
With each twist and turn
I remember for a moment feeling unable to breathe
But soon morning came
And with it opened eyes
Gazes met
Within an instance I knew
I had found my person
And I believe it was then
That you knew too
"Marry me" you laughed
"We'll have a watermelon farm"
I'll be the queen of your kingdom
You'll be my favorite always
And we'll stay there forever
In our Bowen Berg dream...

This may not have been how our story panned out
But I will pause this moment and freeze it in time
And remember you and us like this
For the rest of our forever
That never quite was.

Always.
x

I want her to be desperate and gentle and in love.

Tonight while deciding what I should place in the frames that will eventually hang graciously from my bathroom walls, I couldn’t help my mind from going back to this one idea that continued to flash furiously through my mind.

Flesh. Curves. Long, draping, beautiful hair. Affectionate, adoring, passionate and warm. I want my bathroom to be the one place in my house where the images on the walls are those that are soft and truly represent the sense of a woman’s touch.

A breast. A palm. A cheek, or lips that brush softly and tenderly over those of another. Curves in places they were intended, white, plump and rosy flesh that appears porcelain to touch.

I want love in my bathroom. Love of women and the love of ones self. I want the walls of my bathroom to engulf the desperate feeling of love, disregard the concept of judgement and bathe in the glory that is the ever confusing but eternally beautiful soul of the woman spirit.

To be desperately hopeless and bursting with love is one of the most genuine and alluring qualities we may ever possess. To never lose that is the greatest gift of all.

x

You have a beautiful life

And I want to live
Crawling through the
Montage of images
Your eyes let you see
Bathe in the magic moments
You allow yourself to taste
So we can create our very own
Within
    Your
      Beautiful
        World.

What Might Have Been Lost

You're about to turn 28 years old and you realize your life is nothing like you had imagined it would be. You're living a thousand miles away from everyone you have ever known and all you thought you would become. You're on auto pilot, the human robot has taken over your soul. A solider of a different kind trudging full force on. 365 days in a year feels like a lie and you realize for 1095 days now you've been living this life. You're wondering where the past three years went and trying to figure out what to make of the idea that perhaps you blinked too fast and missed the lot. Will you be doing this for the next three? Can you? Your memory is a little fuzzy and the experiences you've had are slightly blurred but funnily enough this doesn't bother you at all. There's no time for worrying about things like that. 

You wake every day knowing everything but knowing nothing at all and while you find your cup on the night stand seems always half empty, your life is overwhelmingly full. And you became your own circus somewhere along the way, you’re the elephant, the clown, the acrobat, spinning in circles while the rest of them clap. A silent applause, a sea of liquid haze and ten thousand faces peering onto your stage. You’ll pack up your tricks and leave when it’s time to move on, carrying your empty suitcase and rabbitless hat. What is a life to live like that.

You’re about to turn 28 years old and you realize your life has changed in more ways than you could have ever known and you question for a moment what you really value at all. You’ve fallen into perpetual tread with a life and a world you’d prefer now to forget. Running a race in a speed above your pace with no real end in sight and you realize for a second how truly tired and lonely you are. You wonder when the last time was that you took a little breath? Paused to inhale a spot of unpolluted air… and you don’t have the slightest clue. You’ve been wandering blindly, mechanical step, repetitive left upon right and then left foot again. Wondering the whole time if what you’re doing and the path you chose was right. 

You wake every day wanting more than you have and more than what you own. More than who you know and more than where you’ll go. Your life is busy and cluttered with odd ends and frilly socks but you’re stuck still, waiting for something or someone else to come along and take you away. Once upon a time you dreamt, you wanted to see the world, and your innocent eyes had a ravenous taste for desire. You remember the cravings you had for life and lust and adventure. You longed for love and existed to nurture. Days and years roll by as you watch yourself from somewhere else, getting lost.. little mountain girl in sea of city lights. 

You’re about to turn 28 years old and just when you think you’ve got it all figured out, that your life is set and you’ll take what is thrown, you stumble upon your very own pot of gold and in an instant your entire life changes. Forever, for the better. And everything you thought leading up to this point doesn’t matter anymore. You’re alive, alight and ready for your next chapter. 

What might have been lost… well I’d rather not think about that now.

The Saddest Poem

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.

Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars,
and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance."

The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

On nights like this, I held her in my arms.
I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her.
How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her.

To hear the immense night, more immense without her.
And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.

What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her.
The night is full of stars and she is not with me.

That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.
My soul is lost without her.

As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.
My heart searches for her and she is not with me.

The same night that whitens the same trees.
We, we who were, we are the same no longer.

I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.
My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.

Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once
belonged to my kisses.
Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.
Love is so short and oblivion so long.

Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,
my soul is lost without her.

Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
and this may be the last poem I write for her. 

- Pablo Neruda

The Wilting Child

Childlike symptoms
Spread over you like a disease
Coiled and boiled
Brewing heavily beneath
Dirty drops
Of tainted rain
Falling
Faintly down
Tears on the windowpane
Yours. Outside
Mournful mirky weather
Raging on
And confused you mistook me
For someone who cares
About your rotting slur
And the unwelcome words
That break heavy off your chest
     But
I miss you not a drip
Or a sip
Or a spluttered pot
Of the muddy mess
You made of yourself
And left nestled in my head
Riddled and rattled
Inside a bed of lies
A filthy hell
Is you in disguise
And all that is left
Is all that you've become
Weathered and wilting
And fumbling undone

Jim, where did you go

I don’t know you

Nor do you know me

But in this night

Hiding behind a few beers

It feels as though it could be

That we are both in the same city

Singing the same old songs

About one thing or another

Draping lives in tales

Of all that we have done

I'm just a girl

Simple

From a country mountain top

Living in a world

Bigger than she ever thought

Experiences be sold

And told

And curled into something new

Something we could learn

To evolve ourselves into

Outside the world is cold and harsh

Best I stay inside alone

While through my window

The stray wanderers I see roam

In the streets of sin

Bodies trudge in the same

Carrying out there

What I carry in here too

And as I ponder

And wonder

And paint and drink the night away

Listening to your words

Shaping them as I may

I find myself intrigued

By exactly where you are now

In this very moment

Also in this town

And I wonder if the lives we’re living

Are really so different at all

For in one momentary second

This whole world could fall

And I would lose

What you'd lose too

But I would love to know

Although alone inside I sit

There is someone else

Sitting alone here too

And together, but alone

We dream the potential

For something more

And something new

Mourning A Lover

Out my window
I peer to see
What is plump and white
And alone in the sky
But yet you are the light
Hovering over this night
Making sense only to me
And I would go back in time
For you and us
In fact
Tonight, I will it so
That we may return
The clocks
And hands of time
To when we belonged
To each other
How things change
When these nights turn to days
And the days drag on
And on
And on
Twenty-four hours without you
Seems eternally long
Haunting me
Endlessly
Afloat in my own harbour
Alone I sing
Of all I be wondering
And all my thoughts
Hold images of you
That become the lyrics
To these melodies
And woeful ridden songs
That I call out of tone
Like I whistle out of tune
Out of my window
Over clearest night
I perch
And cry for you
As only mourning lovers do

In The End

As we get to know each other
More and more
The differences show
And as it turns out
We don't like each other at all

Love, Forget Me Not

Still, sitting on my fire escape
I wait for something or someone
Who will never come

Just Fine

Lets knuckle down and face it - the facts
I'm just a little fun for you to have - at that
Before you settle down
And return to fix what went wrong
Darling take advantage of me
As all the others have done
Do exactly as you will
They all play it the same way
Empty words dished
Pretend I believe what it is they say
But I'm just waiting for it all to end
Taking the days as they come
As I march to a silence
And beat of an invisible drum
In time you will lose me
But regain the likes of another
And all will stay the same
Your game safe and undercover
Then I will collect my things
That lay scattered on your floor
And continue myself along
As I have done in times before
And I'll be fine
I'll be just fine
I'm always fine

Toyed With

I do not really know you
And I'm not sure why I thought I did
Or why I placed on you expectations
You could not or would not give
I let myself fall
Deeply into your warmth
Wrap a sheet around me
When the morning had me cold
And with my chattering teeth
You walked with me until home
Whispering goodbyes
Before I would retreat inside alone
And once I was inside
Body returned to a natural warm
I let myself feel
What between us had begun to form
But now you're far away
After many times enjoyed
And I wonder if with each other
And our feelings we have toyed

Looking Lookers Looked

So many lookers

Stalking this good looking town

In this looker of a city

Underneath it all I found

A looker of worth

A looker I thought to be true

Looking for me

While I looked for you

Looking into each other

Deep into the night

And again into the morning
We looked towards the light
Looking to the new
As all new lovers do

Until into one another

We found we had looked
All the way through...

Luck In Extremes

He's been in bed for almost fourteen hours straight

He must be tired. Or hungover. Or both
And the girl to my left, blue string bikini hanging from her bones
Is starving herself. Of this I know
Soy milk light perched on the breakfast table in front of her
And I wonder if she has been up for hours
Working on the removal of her non-existant fat
Being on vacation would not change a routine of that
I remember the days I was exactly the same
When an apple's core was my daily intake
And ironic as here I sit sawing away
At my morning apple with a knife
Sipping black coffee while I pretend
To feel content and happy within this body
And I've come so far since the days I'd stay in bed
For fourteen hours or more
Unable to face the day for fear of what would come
Or too the days when staying awake was a drug
And living off too little let me live my life numb
Extreme to extreme
Extreme the key to being me
But learning to live in between extremes
Found me the answer to be free
So this morning I watched
The glorious sun wake and rise
To welcome another day
Perfect along the Caribbean coastline
And as I submerged myself under the crystal water tides
I took a moment to breathe in the calm and heavenly bliss
Thinking to myself how life has a way of falling into place
And I count myself extremely lucky for ending up like this

Besos

I could be with him this week
Just this one
If only it wouldn't play on his mind
When all is said and done
Paradise deserves romance
Of the most beautiful kind
Here in the evenings of darkness
Light in each other we would find
Our Mexican dreams
Contained within Jasmine walls
White linen sheets
Listening only to the sea's calls
It would not be the same
But it would be a kind of nice
A week to remember
Before we retreat again into the skies
A time for us to treasure
All that once was
Stare into each other
And love again just because