Heart and Art

All this trouble I've been seen and I've squandered all opportunity to write it down. Instead I chose to have pointless conversations with pointless people with pointless answers because they are pointless people. "I promise that this bottle is the last one" while on my way to remake the same promise with another last bottle. 

Brown eyed posessed

Oh the case I have, its almost deterrent. If I could maybe be the cold fool you fall for? This would be easy. But these foolish eyes and constant sorry's keep me looped in endless empathy that catch me in forever maybes of stories bought in pharmacy stores. 
Everyday I ask what is it if its worth it but as soon as I hear soothing words of something that I can't exactly make sense of I turn dumb. Emotionally.
Who am I? I am I living when I love what I love.  A person who understands who makes me likely to care. Who moves me like like a potter with in my frame work and melds comfortably until I break as a broken pot of clay. I'm looking for my glue.
Wishes are made while dreaming, therefore as I dream my wish is for you and your joy. Nothing less but certainly more, even if more equals the minus of me plus the affect of an equal or more individual, which would result in a complete you. You and your brown eyes.

Voicemail

I wished that you answered but its OK, I'll leave this message. It may have been a few hours since we spoke that was a few hours too long and I'm longing. Just a gentle hello from you makes this storm of existence ease, I need that from you right now. My bow is breaking with only one solution; that strength in you.

textaship

Wake up, wondering if I got just One from you. From that moment I wonder If I mean a thing to you? And then it comes, so vague. Not sure how to behave but my feelings soaring like a raging wave and all I can muster up is "hey". A million times I've asked, "How are things present and past?". Same old predictable words while what I was to say occurs as: All day I think of you, no one else but you. If I could be so distracted from anything else? I would. Do you know your affect, just how much you interject? In thoughts I felt were absent of YOU, but yet you're present. Not sure how to assume or move because all of this we are not immune, but yet we talk and laugh as if when we reach our rooms it isn't each other we bay at the moon..for? What to do, where do we go, what do we say? How do we grow? Our hearts beat simultaneous to the beat of an irreplaceable tune that is specific to you, if you hear.

Hello Shadow

Hello Shadow, how have you been? Hello shadow, since I last saw you when? Composing the lines of the great Lena Hardaway yet her words so many years later rock me like a surprise every. single time.

And Then

Sorry to wake you.
But did I shake you? Of all things to manifest...to go bump in the night it's my thoughts that rake you?

I am (a challenge)

Me and my cousin were having an indept discussion on individuality and decided to challenge each other to an "I am" writing contest. My entry:

I am earnestly quite strange but I don't mind it.
I am a woman who struggles ambiguously with real life demons everyday and everyday.. I win.
I am kind, brokenhearted and observant of the menace that is society to our marginalized people; the ones that swim up-stream to escape a reality that they wish wasn't real.
I am useless. Because I fear the unknown like any other human. And because of my own wall of unpredictable behavior I stunt my growth therefore I stunt my purpose. Without effective purpose what else will you be?
I am a misfit. I don't like to be backed into a corner or told I can't do something so I will do just what you said cannot be done. Maybe I'm just stubborn.
Stubborn because I'm confident. Yes, the unknown is scary but when you are confident there is nothing "unknown" about what you are capable of. Regardless of what is said, it will be DONE.
I am a victim. The scars on my soul run deep and unanswered and I would be a fool to lie and say "I'm okay" when asked the arbitrary "How Are You?" on the eve of a day of loss.
So I guess I am a Liar. I bottle up the bad and foam out the good when it should be the opposite. But the bad always finds a long-term home.