glory! : i wish i never was

washer

Goodnight my love Remember me as you fall to sleep Fill your pockets with the dust and the memories That rises from the shoes on my feet I won't be back here Though we may meet again I know it's dark outside Don't be afraid Everytime I ever cried from fear Was just a mistake that I made Wash yourself in your tears And build your church On the strength of your faith Please Listen to me Don't let go Don't let this desperate moonlight leave me With your empty pillow Promise me the sun will rise again I too am tired now Embracing thoughts of tonight's dreamless sleep My head is empty My toes are warm I am safe from harm...

Wednesday, January 3, 2024

i wish i never was

your beauty doesnt concern me your beauty diesnt warm me, doesnt comfort mei fear you as they said you said, i say you said of awe i cant stand in awe, i only cradle envymy color has always been green, my favorite, my moss infested pool id love to walk into my small sea, drown out here but i dont have the discipline, get buried. i cant abstain like you told me to, like you said i should. a skill you keep holding over me. i cant. i like being intoxicated, i like my drinks, i like the stingof smoke on my hot mouth, i like going greeni dont look with awe at you or your limbs and parts your beauty makes me scared, your beauty makes it hard to love you you all think youre so much better than me myaura keeps it out, keeps me in enclosures on enclosures like a sarcophagus my jail like a russian doll, my exhibit is a glass box in a glass box in a thousand glass boxes its not clear anymore, in to out or out to in peer in to opal white, yell at me and poke the wall and i will only feel the vibrations. feel the waves from a word. these things are just distractions arent they- from your beauty. youre tricking me, arent you? i love the promise of a sweet treat at the end of the day, all a trap heres a drawback, no? all a trap? why are you here, why dont you wish to persuade me? all a trap? are you shaking me off your coat? moving your tongue? i wish i died i wish i never was born at all i hate you all for thinking youre better than me, they really think so, dont they?

you think i dont think of the things they think, you think such creature is haggard by choice- i am not i wish i could make you believe im beautiful- i am not not trying even, anymore, its not lost on me the sharp nails, my fingers dance over the razorblade, tipping over the edgesflutter over the chrome platforms, the angles i wish i could pierce like it does, i wish i had shine. i ruined it. i faked it. i fake my death and as i smile i feel my beady eyes sink into my skull, my jaw widen, feelhow i dont fit here i an not her i am not you i am rejected by you like stainless steel furrowed into somebodys earlobe, pushed out by the bits that make you up did i make you updid you did we?did you make me up? was it your will to make me crippled? your will to make me ugly? artistic choice? show dont tell?

if youre here, give me new skin for the old ceremony,why wear me down at your own house?make these rocks into sand, may it be,listen to me,listen to me,listen to me,make me beautiful make me light and white make me pure again or i will die and you will not forget me for thats your nature? no?

all knowing and you know it all then, you knew these words from my mouth before i began so,

i will forget, faith, mine. it will be that. it will. it is now, it is in this code- you will delete each paragraph on me- you will not forget it still. or resent me, because that is mine- and your point is that youre not me. i am your chalice, cup runeth over, spills on your lap for a second, dries up and bleeds out

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sylvia plath, the bell jar

I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.

Psalm 18: 6-11

In my distress I called upon the Lord, And cried out to my God; He heard my voice from His temple, And my cry came before Him, even to His ears. Then the earth shook and trembled; The foundations of the hills also quaked and were shaken, Because He was angry. Smoke went up from His nostrils, And devouring fire from His mouth; Coals were kindled by it. He bowed the heavens also, and came down With darkness under His feet. And He rode upon a cherub, and flew; He flew upon the wings of the wind. He made darkness His secret place; His canopy around Him was dark waters And thick clouds of the skies.