Crush-poem

I want to want you,
I want to say something
so you’ll turn your head and come
to me.

I want to ask you
for affection and attention
so we could curl up together
and exhale the night away.

Yet I’m sitting here, seemingly
daydreaming
lost in what if’s with every step
I take, back
towards where we first saw
eye-to-eye, and foresaw
bliss in our first “tell” without the
innuendo’d “show.”

And you’re on my mind tonight
again
it’s a repetitive thing—like how I’ve been
chasing my tale—
a cycle of wonder, wander, want—

Then what?

That’s so feline:
wanting things—
or seeming to and all the while
I’m wanting You

ash to Ash--poem

Let me be in the sun—
I’ll burn for the right reasons
instead of letting this blood
boil
for an unobtainable ghost.

Let me be in the sun—
I’m gluttonous for light
in this dust-cloud
of the delusions in
my waking dreams.

Let me be in the sun—
I’ll thrive or fly to
Oblivion—
at least I’ll be something new, something fresh
and flowering
or a soaring wraith of fire.

Let me be in the sun—
since you won’t let me be in you.
Any scalding I bear
will be gentler, dear,
than how I burned for
You.

:)

Merry Christmas Eve one and all :)!!

<3

The End-poem

I will never leave you

Know that—

When you’re facing the light, or the darkness, or the abyss—whatever describes
the other side
in your tangible dreams

Remember at that fragile moment
when Nature’s too big to fathom
and She drowns you in sensory overload

You’ll feel my hand on your heart,
my voice vibrate on your skin
you’ll see my eyes when you close your own

You’ll know

Your mind will carry the key to our
Immortality

and despite all Her fury,
Nature will revere this bond,
step aside,
and lay the path for us to embark on
together,
forever—

At least that’s what keeps my
heart beating
on this plane of human confusion
when I see the tidal wave threatening its
wrath—

I believe you’re waiting for
me, too

War--poem

I shot the words—
deflect them if you wish
but you can’t deny the point de facto
I hold the Trump to blast this memory to
holy dust

Your lips hold the ammunition with the kryptonite ability
to collapse me onto the Egyptian cotton battlefield
where we waged countless wars before

I can see you’re unsettled, agitated, and ready
my eyes try to penetrate your shield of false affection—
I know I’ve succeeded once you’re on your
back
but the fall is so long, we’d be fighting forever

so take it out on me
get back at me
avenge the violation

I stripped your armour,
threw it out with stale memories
of all the times we sat and bitched with no substance in
between

I’m standing, you’re struggling—it’s the most we’ve done
in relationship-ages

Take it out on me
because I can finally take it
and turn it on you
to teach you what I’m made of—
and not what you want me to be.

Pyramid

I'm trying to find you in other people, other places than from where I see you.

I still don't know why you put us through this.

I miss you.

Self-therapy: "Into the woods"

Sometimes, my mind is my enemy and tormentor. It won't translate my sensations, thoughts, memories, emotions into words that flow like Appleton Jamaican rum. That's my favourite rum: smoother and more potent than any pirate can muster. See? This is silly. I want to write something deep--something complicated and intricate to reflect all the f***ed up things going on in this cranium. I feel things wildly, obsessively, then when I try to transcribe these things to paper (or screen..) it seems pointless or petty. But, not many people read this anyway, so this seems like a decent space to vent--no shrink's couch required.

I'm frustrated with the notion that you can miss what was and more infuriatingly, what could have been. I've been told not to think "what if." It can be dangerous. You can fixate on something that will never be--or will never likely be. Yet, the curiosity still burns and prods at you constantly. I miss what could have been. The longing makes me angry. But I know I'll let go. Ever feel this way? Stuck on something, and just wanting to release? When does that precious moment happen, when desire becomes action? When the weight is off your shoulders finally after trying to hurl it off?

How much can you actually protect yourself? I have a gift for diving into things and making associations with corny things like songs, jokes, tv shows...etc... etc... blah blah blah. It's amazing how things can become tainted so quickly and drastically. Once you practice the art of possessing those songs, jokes, tv shows as yours in the end, you can dissociate things you enjoy with the memory (i.e. person) you don't enjoy quite as much anymore.

This sounds like a bad country song.

I believe a recent diasppointment hit me harder than expected because of everything else going on. You know how life can snowball, taking you down with it and toss you into a firepit mercilessly? Yeah. There have been some fantastic things happening, too, do NOT get me wrong. My life is pretty great. I'm just disappointed in a few things.

That aside, back to this journey through the thicket of my mind.

I don't know why I torture myself. I look for clues, signs in the trail and evidence of what was between an "us"--me and someone else--to understand what went wrong or if it was ever "right" at all. This time, I honestly feel like things shouldn't have ended this way. Then again, if you're a fatalist, then everything happens for a reason, n'est-ce pas? I believe in that for most things. My life is too weird and peculiar to not believe it a lot of the time. Yet, I want to understand why things played out as they did--why certain things in my life just aren't functioning the way I want them to.

My health and my (figurative) heart are below par at the moment. And have been for some time. Things'll get better--they always do. That's one vital lesson I've learned in this messed up thing called la vie. Thank God, right? But someone please educate me as to why things aren't plugging along smoother than they currently are, and why when I finally start to really let my heart get into something, it sublimates into vapour?

Thanks, Universe. I know you'll return the favour some day.

Until then, I've got my girlfriends, writing, chocolate, dancing, and a night out tomorrow night that I'm greatly looking forward to.

Thanks for..."listening." I hope this'll help me move on. Writing usually does. Onto other things for the day...

Sensory--poem

I heard your voice through the crowd
I could have sworn it was you, and tried matching it to the figure
whose back infuriatingly wouldn’t turn to reveal
your smile beaming at me

I saw you from a distance—and felt the fluttering nervosa
forcing my heart to beat faster, to ascend to my throat
my breath ceased and quickened all the while—
you’re the alchemist of chaos mixed with sweet serenity

I tasted you on my lips, licking them once I felt the melting
snowflakes floating tantalizingly from the heavens
descending to a plane
where weaker creatures roam

I breathed you in while we swam through bed-sheets
counting the threads to stall and keep you there
falling prisoner to you
with every time I inhaled your spell

I felt you tonight,
last night and likely every night—
I can’t tell when you began and I ended
except when your hands pulled away from my skin

I heard you—though it was only the wind
I saw you—though it was your shadow
I tasted you—though it was saccharine love
I breathed you in—though it was the perfume of Winter’s arrival
I felt you all over me—though it was my cruel neurons’ trickery

I knew you, and not at all,
for you left before you came,
shut me away before embracing me
all with the finality of a few broken words

And despite this assault on my weakened links to reality,
my heart’s still beating fast,

My heart’s beating still.

Dear Life,

Get with the program.

Cut me a break, please?

Thanks,

Ashley.

Ghost-poem

I thought you left me
I thought I could move on
I thought the moon could shine
even on the darkest of nights—
even when the sun never seemed to make an appearance

I thought you left
then I felt your hand on my neck,
squeezing the air from my lungs
squeezing the life from my soul into a bottle
of regret
that you tossed out to sea
for me to find

I thought you left—
you and your poison,
you with your death
and numbing embrace

I thought you left,
until I glanced into a mirror, and
saw you staring back at me—
from these eyes that shine
no more

Afraid-poem

I’m afraid to cry
(someone might see)
I’m afraid to laugh
(someone might hear)
I’m afraid to scream
(someone might run)
I’m afraid to fear
(someone might console)
I’m afraid to be
(someone might notice me
in all of my selfish glory
in doing this thing called
living)

Demolition

Demolition

I can’t feel through this darkness anymore
I’m working through a dream with no light
in a tunnel-envisioned life
full of wondering what will be
and every other cliché that could plague
my imagination

you’re not my friend—and I do not wish
that the chains binding you to me are a friendship-shade of grey
I want you in my veins—to paint my vision red with the blood
that should pound through the shackles binding me to you

if you kissed me
I’d submit
if I kissed you
you’d throw away the key

at least I hope you would

but all these “if’s” don’t light the way
they give false hope of foresight
in a life poisoned with what was

play me the music of your heart
the beating plays me to a reverie,
guiding me through the abyss of now
with the echo of your presence
making my hair stand up

Do you feel like making a fire—
so I at least can see your calculations?
is my libido flammable to you—
have you been stealing the oxygen from my life
to douse me, forcing me
in this darkness of your indifference and visible absence?

the sun won’t shine again unless
I grow some wings and fly northward—
believe enough in the legendary strength
in this composure of mine
to shatter the ceiling you constructed with your
stone and cement blending all your tales
into a how-to manual on burying
hope

you lied to me with a key, a kiss
an embrace at 2 am that felt like business
at 5
no key means no lock means no blood
to share in the sacrament of voluntary
two-way
enslavement

what a show, what a dream

here’s the moment—
I stole from your agenda
to take a chance and begin my ascent,
phoenix my way out of your ashen world
and reunite with—

there it is, the answer to the question of what the hell
were we doing, losing you and I in the
telescope of what could be
while we couldn’t agree—

the answer’s in the way it ended,
for you know what they say about tunnels

Release--poem

I remember diving into you
the comfort of your darkness, your frozen embrace
your endless abyss
where I got lost
in a coma where time and lucidity snuck away

I wasn’t happy, but hands of tragedy hadn’t completed the
task that your smothering took on to bring me to
this

once reason parted my lips to allow
your draught to assault my tongue
I tasted my addiction

My heart pounded again,
panic flailed my limbs to search for the surface
to cut the mass of tangible obsession
and win back my breath

I tasted your poison

I tasted your power,
that I made more potent with every single
dream, nightmare, thought, memory, word, glance, heartbeat, breath—

I remember diving into you
and feeling comfort in the cold
for you’d stock me like this for always
and keep me inside ‘til death do us part—
though, as the diver, I guess I’m the swan

I remember diving into you
out of choice, and all the while knowing
a masochist would blush from the emotional
whirlpool you preserve me in

I remember diving into you

I remember drowning

until I remembered it’s not safe to dive
when you can’t see the bottom in an unreliable ocean
so I built a bridge, crossed over

I remember looking back at you

Pull-poem

Pull

North and South live up to their titles
they freeze and burn when I deviate from
the core of my rational, average centre—
my bridge above the pool of bubbling anger,
below a sky of blinding apathy

Me and You lived up to our titles
making an “us” from two skeptical
“I’s”

We stood on this bridge,
the experiment of stability
standing on feet that once ran but could
halt
with a hint of affection from
you

Time’s an enemy I can’t ignore
wearing on my balance—
raining on my vision
so I can’t tell the future from the
maelstrom below

Time won’t let me die,
live,
or breathe in this Wonderland
where you wrote me into existence
in this tragedy with no
ending

Time won’t intervene
while my heart pounds and slows,
stealing blood from my imagination
weighing my feet to concrete below

North pulls me to frigid heavens,
South to smouldering saunas
where sins burn free from the flesh that wanted
gravity to pull you through me
until nothing’s left
but air’s memory that love once was
here

I can’t feel my feet
my heart won’t beat
the storm’s calming to a stubborn shower
washing away the heat from below
washing away impending frostbite
Then Time wakes me from my trance

Lust and Love live up to their titles
you touch my hand, usurping my chemistry—
sensation lying to my sensibility

And I could touch your face tonight,
if I only knew how to break Time’s sentence
if I only knew how I could let myself free
from the shackles of a nightmare
that never let me walk beside you
but threw me to the mercy of the ravaging magnetism
of ruthless, warring
poles.

Good Intentions

You need to know

all that’s in my heart

while you’re collecting what’s left

of your own,

re-arranging the pieces to find who remains

after hurricane Me

tore through.

You need to know

I’m fully empty

and starving for what wasn’t.

You need to know

it won’t last long—like all loyal dwellers of our village

at the base of Mount Tomorrow,

we’ll rebuild our organs, without

splitting an Atom.

You need to know

so my mind can set free

the dove that was shot with my mistake.

You need to know

I’m not trying to be selfish,

and I know trying at all buries selfless

success.

You need to know

I thought it was true,

that it could have been and Life called our

bluff.

You need to know

the peace will come

after this affective tempest halts.

You need to know

I’m doubting myself,

for I hear an echo of these words

from all four walls.

I'm not angry--just disappointed.

Ok, that's a lie. I'm both. But "it" is partly my fault. Quelle grande surprise!

I need to vent. It's begging to come out like the aliens in well...Alien. I didn't feel that my friends and sister should be burdened with my stupid anecdotes, so, Cyberworld: here you go!

For once, could someone please just grow some kahonas (sp?...do I really care about the spelling?) and be upfront/honest/truthful/brave/thoughtful/see Thesaurus for more? I was ... notified/reminded recently that I really mean nothing to someone who meant something to me. Even though said person deserves no more of my attention than a fruit fly. I kid not. In Logicverse, said person has a negative score in being tolerable and compatible with me. In Feelingverse, whenever said person used to walk in a room, my heart would stop. (Well, there's a sign right there.... he's more likely to kill me than to make me happy....I digress.)

I realized that after 3-4 years of torture and emotional abuse by the brat, that I need to stop letting him into my life to fester like a virus. Yet, I saw him recently. I told myself and was convinced that my feelings had vanished. When ...."interacting".... with him, I did manage to separate my feelings. We were just having fun, and I knew that. I knew that I'm not his dreamgirl, but I thought I had at least a little bit of respect cut out for me from his moldy cake of selective respect.

However, the crash cart needed to be brought in once I found out just how little I mean to him.

I shouldn't care.

But I do, so deal with it. Yes, I'm angry.

Yes, I'll get over it.

There are others like him--not with the same history, but with similar tendencies. Sweet words, amazing chemistry...I know deep down that all the he's probably just want something to wink about, but be straight about it, you know? Just say that's all you want. Enough with the top hat and fog and mirrors. I'm a big girl, I CAN handle the truth (contrary to what Jack Nicholson might think!).

Enough is enough! (I say that to the universe and to myself.)

I banish all of you cowards to suck on your own poison and spit it out once it becomes too strong to bear--once it becomes a memory that haunts you and humbles you. Humility, for crying out loud. Get some.

I'm not unhappy, but I'm also not a brick wall, or made of steel. I'm a strong girl, and really don't have it bad at all, but let's face it: I care about people, and I care about how people affect my life. So sue me. I've been used enough, and done enough to myself, so all I'm asking of the great thing called the universe/God/Buddha/Yoda/whoever/whatever, is for a breath of fresh air--for peace.

NOT someone who cares about me and I don't feel the same way about,
NOT someone I adore and who thinks me nothing more than another girl in another city on another weekend filled with cigarettes and booze.

"Patience, young one." (I know.)
My frustrations are just building and eating away at my composure at night when I'm supposed to be dreaming. *sigh*

With all of these stupid little nothings piling up, there better be something fantabulous on the way. Someone "upstairs" is teaching me a lesson, I think.

For once, can I please be the frigging teacher? Or is this all supposed to help me build my résumé?

Clarity-poem

I need to see it all
The first glance of the glittering, luring face
distracting from the darkness
lurking inside
that hidden place you yearn to explore but
lampposts pull you away

I need to see it all
so I can claim I’ve missed nothing
and find you watching me all along
while I absorb the night,
absorb the sun,
burning my mind with memories
of missing you

I need to see it all
your danger and your armour—
you’re my labyrinth, and my gravity,
my bridge of cognitive dissonance—
you give less than you take then carry me across
dropping me off then siphoning my life
from my lusting veins

I need to see it all
before it’s too late
before the palpable ecstasy of finding you, waiting for me on the precipice
evolves into a numb
imagination

will you jump? carry me again? beckon me? run?

I need to see the possibilities
before my heart bursts out of my chest
or my mind implodes from road-runner what ifs

I need to see it all
for my dreams are insatiated,
unsaturated with memories,
but drowning in fables of how you reached out—
I saw the effort—

I need to see it all
to ease the pain of blood droning through my limbs,
urging me on through the darkness of your pathways
feeling my way, feeling your walls closing in—
clear my eyes of the frigid dew settling in after a night spent with you—
I need to see—to reach you,
I need to see

Demon--poem

It’s coming from the inside,
needing a release, clawing at my skin
to let it all out-
burning the tissue to weaken
my armour

It tickles as it gropes
for a way out into the light
or the dark—I doubt it really cares
so I laugh in spite of myself
in spite of the logic that should be
alarmed

It’s into me—
and it has me wishing I was into you
like this thing inside of me
taking over my sanity
taking over my vision

So all I see is you and scenes of us
and what we could be
when the lights go out, and day has fled
to let the moon usurp the sky
shed its glow upon my deeds
desperately waiting to unfold

It wants to spread like a disease,
Bursting from my core to enter yours—
but wait, this isn’t a nauseous process—
though it sways me like vertigo with a pleasant,
drunken wave

Is this my demon
waiting to possess my reason,
my flesh and yours?

Will I fall, condemned in the pit
of endless tunnel vision of lust
in love’s clothing?

Or could this Force give me wings,
fly me to sanctioned bliss
so I can meet the sun, and never burn,
never lose my flight despite the pull of
sin’s gravity on my tired frame?

Is the answer worth knowing?
For knowledge can strip what dignity,
shelter, and armour I have left—

keep me in the dark,
keep me in the light,
I don’t really care
as long as it’s inside,
and willing to knock logic down
to let sweet anticipation rise
and commence your release.

The Game-poem

Your move;
Your immobility.
Your silence.
My abyss.
Our precipice on our table with all the cards
laid out.

The hourglass is gone-
my fingernails scream, raw from the sands
that should have flowed from me to you-
instead, they fled far and wide-

I think I got some in my eye,
‘cause there’s a puddle on the table
and it won’t dry.

I gave you time
though it was only a second,
it was more than sufficient
‘cause I’ve heard the parable
that life’s full of moments,
and moments make life
worth living-

living, loving, silence, puddles-
I can’t connect the four.

our life moments are trapped in the continuum,
the infuriating snakes-and-ladders board
in the game of you and I-
I want to watch the corners curl
in the flames of forgetting memories
while I play my turn,
sit in fury,
waiting for your chip to be bet,
to slide, or better yet to climb-
just to move!

so this moment can die

and you’ll live as You
without the I

Civil War-poem

my stomach feels what my heart should:
the aftermath of
my insides revolutioning unendingly-
Us argues that I’m good at heart,
Them argues my heart’s a mess-
We can’t agree so I’m left
feeling sick
over what I did to
You and Me

my gut that aches is the same that
persuaded me to halt whatever
waltz we were in the middle of
so on a break, I tried to drown my
confused brain in hops and poison,
trying to kill Our memory
but I resurrected it tenfold,
in the form of this dizzying disease

my eyes are pinned to the screen of
Me and You
mercilessly replaying the scene
when I cut the cord and demanded
these feet
to move
away

my eyes sting, my core burns, my feet tire, my brain is nauseous-
no wait: I’m confusing mySelf with my Parts-
my body’s at war
with the soul it imprisons
striving for solace, for peace

but will the silence, the stillness be the End
of a Battle
or the War?