glory! : RAH

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...

Sunday, October 27, 2024

RAH

I KNOW IM ANNOYING LEAVE ME ALONE

this is my place and i can do what i want. i am not this annoying unless im drunk and feeling inferior. God!

i am not going into the woods, there is nothing there for me. Ive been studying for DAYS ive done nothing aside from writing and reading and writing and reading. Man!

Im 20! i get to be pretentious and annoying and young and stupid! i hate feeling low, alone. i hate feeling this. i know im not important and will never be. i know its a stupid pursuit. i know im not unique and i know i know i know but i hate people calling me immature. my youth was stunted then cut it half then i was violated. yes. i was, no longer am or can be. not young, not innocent, too naive, too stupid, too indulgent into myself. then it happened all over again. and i live in my past and i want to go back to my grandmas house and i can but i wont and i want to write a novel and i can but i wont and i live missing and i love missing and ten years passed me by like ten years will pass by and i am alone, knotting myself into a circle, feeling stupid, hearing people call my stupid in their heads, feeling nothing, i want to be someone.

oct 9

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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.