11-25-08
pick up your phone. its not the blood bank calling, it’s my heart on the line.
My fingertips have clogged arteries from an over consumption of high cholesterol words and lack of emotional activity. They haven’t sweated in weeks and I’vebecome irregular. my funny bone is inflamed and my frontal lobe is swimming in a pool of words unsaid. Am i running away from my past or finally grasping my future. could my future be running from me while i hold on to my past? whichever it may be I’m goin with it. And for once I’m not just letting it happen I’m make it. I’m worried its not the right choice. but i accept my fate it’s the wrong one. while justifying my actions to the mirror i told the sorrow filled reflection that “if you’re gonna choose a life with out god make sure it’s a life worth going to hell for.” I don’t appreciate enough. I don’t love enough. I don’t see my sister enough or her heart. We used to be in such a great place but i worry now that we were only that close because i was who she wanted me to be. I thought being true to me would feel better than this. I remember a time where i smiled harder that this. Back then i was drunk all the time, pursing a career that was toxic to my values and loving a man and a woman that now resent me. Yet my smile doesn’t lay on my face the same. Since then my smile doesn’t lie to my face the same. I’m better off now than then then. I’m better now. I’m better now. I’m WELL now. But i still miss them. I have to think twice before i say your name to make sure it’s not his that roles of my tongue. I still cry when i think of her. I saw a picture a couple minutes ago of a misplaced memory of a time when my lies of love were covered in lust and drinkin every night. But i would’nt exchange those times for anything. I’ve chosen to give my heart away only a few times before and trust me there’s plenty of heart left for one more. It takes blows like mercury. You hit it hard and fast and it’s like punching a brick wall. But if you gently approach it with a yeilding touch it will be softer than butter. You say i have a thousand defenses and i always have my guard up. Well you should have seen me before. I was the mother fuckin berlin wall. Baby for you i’m an open book. Granted i’m an old book and some of my text is wearing away, but as long as you squint and hold my pages tightly, closse to you r face, you’ll make out my contents in time. And time we have. Not that we’ve used it. we’ve hopped this train like it’s our last chance to get home. We’re going a hundred miles an hour. But the wind in our hair has never felt so good. you’re nothing like what i was looking for, but exactly what i need. I’m a harlequin. Be warned. I’ll drive you crazy but you won’t be able to turn your back on me. You told me not to break your heart. Chances are i will. But lets not think about that. Lets drink tea. And make music and write pretty words of fluffy pillows and dream-world love with hands holding hearts and non-exsistent fears. Our future is full of secret telling and eskimo kisse. Back massages that slow our pulse and love songs that we store in a lock box so we can cash them when times are hard, this recessions growing stronger than our words so lets get a move on.
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