Eyes to the sky, feet on the ground.

Quiero regresar!

Cease and Desist.

It drops in and out, like an unannounced visitor.
Every one of its visits are unexpected and unwelcome.
Each time it says it'll be a short stay.
At least, the impositions are now further apart.
One day, these haunts will cease and desist.

The Bell Jar.

Having wanted to read this book for years, never having the time, I finally read, and wish I hadn't.  What a disappointment!

I, anxiously, read through the last quarter of the book waiting for her to get the courage, or lose it, and finally do it.

I kept looking for the line, the thought, the event, the action, that would finally give her the clarity to get on with it, to get it over with.

But she doesn't.  She doesn't!  Joan does.  There's nothing moving, inspiring, or frightening about it.

After reading it, I felt like tossing the booking into a fire and myself along with it.

But (ALAS!) I checked the book out from the library... and there is no fire in sight.

When fools rush in....

you know, sometimes there's this fool. and this fool does foolish things. and this foolish fool doesn't want or mean to be a fool, but he's foolish nonetheless.  this fool steals another fools heart and this foolish fool runs with it.  then together they are fools.  together they do foolish things.  and despite the foolish thing these fools do, these fools keep loving foolishly.

06282012

I never really felt like it happened
Yes, I went through the motions
But it all felt as a dream
A slow motion recap of it
For a video on what to do
And what not to do

After, I felt accused
Every word was spoken with a bit of self defense 
I still don't see how it happened
How did I let myself spin so out of control  
 
Thinking back on those minutes
Which seemed like hours
Feeling as though the pain would last forever
Wanting to rip it off like a band-aid
While wishing it would just only melt away
Leaving me in a puddle
To be mopped up, wrung out and that would be that

Having grown tired of asking
I attempted it on my own
Only to prove to all that I couldn't do for myself
Oh, how pathetic I must've looked
In anguish, tears rolling
Knuckles white from clenched fists

Peeling away another layer
To make room for growth
It was torture

But the whole time you did it with love
Sad, pitying love
Like you were tending to a wounded bird left flightless
Only to restore it to health
So it could choose to fly away.