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my thoughts

I can't believe that what I feel is really happening to me
Make it hurt
And point the finger at my insecurities
Well I guess I just don't understand about those complexities in your mind
And I guess I just don't understand why this world seems so unkind
Maybe just once I get what's coming to me.

**"Maybe Just Once" - Nine Inch Nails**

Monday, October 02, 2006

Love Is A Cunt's wisdom
Even if they're in that eternal, true la-la love; one of them is eventually going to die first and leave the other heartbroken.

Memoria written by Tree

I am skilled in the art of remembering. With him, I have forgotten nothing. I catalogued in minute detail every slant of light in every room we’d ever shared, every change in the timbre and cadence of his voice, the arc of every eyelash, words both uttered and unspoken. It was not so much a conscious decision, but rather a compulsion of love. I wanted to lose nothing of what I held as precious and the way I’m wired enables that.

It is what undoes me.

My fingers memorized every crease of his palm, his skin smooth as paper, the pulse beneath the wrist. My fingertips were full of beating wings and preludes. They read him like Braille. My hands made music in his, danced over the landscape of his flesh, bear burning tattoos where he traced our initials upon them. I’d drag the back of my hands, the softest part of them, against the side of his face, the length of his arm, against every plane and slope and contour and curve until I knew him as I know my own body. My eyes drank his light like liquid, blessed his beauty as a holy vision. My mouth still stings with his kiss. I won’t even talk about my heart.

I’ve held nothing since he’s been gone but his absence, yet I can summon the minutiae of him so exquisitely that I’m surprised he does not materialize in my arms.

I do not try to do these things. They are simply a function of who I am and how I love. This is why I do not heal.

I dream of amputations. I’d love nothing more than to cut off my hands, but I know it wouldn’t work. They’d turn to doves and fly back to him. I could nail them to the wall, but they’d only twitch and sing. I could extirpate my eyes, set them beneath my heel, and crush the sight out of them, but how does one remove the mind’s eye?

I would’ve rather died than forget, though now, it is the memories that will kill me.

Shakira - Illegal

Who would have thought
That you could hurt me
The way you've done it?
So deliberate, so determined

And since you have been gone
I bite my nails for days and hours
And question my own questions on and on

So tell me now, tell me now
Why you're so far away
When I'm still so close

You don't even know the meaning of the words "I'm sorry"
You said you would love me until you die
And as far as I know you're still alive, baby
You don't even know the meaning of the words "I'm sorry"
I'm starting to believe it should be illegal to deceive a woman's heart

I tried so hard to be attentive
To all you wanted
Always supportive, always patient
What did I do wrong?
I'm wondering for days and hours
It's here, it isn't here where you belong

Anyhow, anyhow
I wish you both all the best
I hope you get along


Open heart
Open heart
It should be illegal to deceive a woman's heart
JeN's mind ejaculated @ 5:10 p.m. | | permalink
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