Shiver.

There are a few things that make me shiver. 

That make me breath deeper, think longer, and stare mindlessly. 

Recognizing blessings is hard most the time. 

You either think you deserve it, which takes the glory out of it, or you don't realize it at the time, that maybe just maybe its a good thing. 

Delayed realization makes me shiver. 

Its masked figure floats along my stream of subconsciousness and dives into depths that even my therapist can't dig her way into. 

Time heals many things, but only if your letting it. 

I was watching an old episode of "Keeping up with the Kardashians,"

Harass me as you will, but reality TV has a hold of me. 

The dad of the kardashians died back in 2003 from cancer, i believe, and it was a show dedicated to him.

At the end they showed a bunch of old videos from the family with the dad in it.

I broke.

I couldn't believe that this not so realistic show made me cry, dead dogs don't even make me cry, but something in this grabbed a hold of me and reflected the sadness that rests in my current living soul.

i didn't see there home videos, i saw mine. 

I saw every christmas I shared with my mom, every recital she consistently taped, and every smile she flashed as I made her proud. 

It sucks to lose someone you love so deeply but never really knew.

I don't let myself say that enough and the times I do it usually isn't the appropriate time and place.

But when is it ever pleasant to bring up your dead mom, it might as well be a mute subject, ha ha ha.

I feel her more in me lately then ever before. I see her when I am strong and relentless, and when I decide to take the high road in hurt rather than lash out.

I am thankful for the 15 years I had with her, I just wish I acted like it more in them. 

All good things will be eternal, and for that I can't wait to see her again. 

Love you mom, eternally.

-m

Dealing...

I have been dealt some hard cards lately, But, recently my luck has took a turn.

Lets just say I won't need my poker face anymore. =)

-M

" Excuse me, while my heart falls,"

I listen without ears and laugh without air,
My eyes are stuck in a deadlock stare.
As I whisper and weep of the last past scare,
My feet start clicking like a time bomb dare.

My fingers they lust over movements unknown,
while flexing there skin over keys that are toned.
Could this tired hand be close to the end,
of uncovering the truth about this color blind friend.

I am surrounded by light but there is clouds in the way,
So I bury my good fortune at the bottom of the bay.
The beating of drums resides in my chest
while the whizzing of wind puts my  good fortune to test.

I wish without wishes and pray without life,
yet I throw my pennies and close my eyes.
I looked straight at you, but all that I saw,
Was the heart that had fallen the night I cried my first tune.
-M

Here it goes again....

Listen, dance, Sing REPEAT.

Cause here it goes again...

-M

Wakeup.

-M

Lake water.

I flip through pages once turned and skim the words while leaving my teardrops on every page. The book of life can’t be unwritten but you can always start a new chapter. My heart sheds its new skin with every new season but there is always half that is left unrevoked and not leaving enough room for it to breath can lead to suffocation and then the never-ending reign of death.

  I am working on growing, well growing is working on me, I am also trying to peel back the useless pounds that linger on me like an afternoon smoke and stare at me in my daily morning routine of criticism which hopefully gains enough motivation to work out or maybe not go for my second brownie but it never makes its point.

A lot of times when I am on the phone with him I feel like I have to reassure him that even though I am slowly dying inside I am okay, because I still eat m vegetables and drink my water. We are back in the place of second priorities and blissful ignorance of my current state, because monitoring the issue is better than confronting it. I get it. I do. I am older, stronger, smarter and somewhat wiser so why would he give a second guess himself to whether I am all right.

Delayed grief is like jumping in a pot of boiling hot oil, why would anyone choose that? Or better than that, why would anyone understand that? Most the time I daydream about drowning in the lake behind my house and imagine the call he would get, the face he would make and the heartbeats that would skip due to the sudden emptiness. But then my favorite tune sprouts up from Pandora and I snap out of it in an instance, because this is temporary, but temporary has been 9 years of my life so it gets a little hopeless.  

I try to do right by the people I love and the passions that loiter inside me; I decided that I would take a pottery course along with a cooking class just for kicks. I am excited. Two things that bring so much joy and confidence to me have equal opportunity timing and I am not taking either for granted, because well who doesn’t love eating out of a bowl that you made with a gourmet soup that was prepared by YOU.  Ha ha   I have the time, why the hell not.  I continue to try and place exciting ventures in my path, so when the night turns dark blue my heart won’t as well. I think I have always needed something to look forward too, which isn’t a complete mental case but something that can get tiring, and I want to feel more content in the space I am in with the people I choose to be in there with which is slowly dwindling as the weeks pass but I guess it’s better to know what you don’t need than what you do.

Thankfulness is trying to come to dinner and I let it because I am blessed. So I pour it another glass of water and say cheers to future thoughts that care to share a meal. I decided to carefully start looking at the good in life and the good I can make in life.  I need that. I need to know I am not just a filled chair or a cute face. I am happy that I know myself this much at such a young age and knowing myself brings me to leave it as is and jump in the shower, and get ready for my evening event.        

-M              

-M

The"Outer" in space.

The words accumulate to sentences and then turn to statements, which form into questions that break the atmosphere and float aimlessly into space because being heard is different than being answered. You build and build then construct pieces of shatter proof glass around your delicate space and say " This time will be different. " Your expectations drop because we all will prolly' die before we can naturally, but most the time I feel like I already have and being pale can get old. My throat crackles with reminisces  of scenes I only used to watch on the TV and I seem to understand the characters more now, but I leave space for bloopers.

Space has left too much for me to love, its dared me to accept the unpredictable and played with me in my loneliness. I muster up excuses to hide from it but it still consumes me, crying out for more. It shimmies in the summer mornings like mucky lake water and screams at me like mother used to do. I let it make me mental and mad until I couldn't speak up anymore, so I leave more and it nods its head and continues on till it gets uneasy again then peers through my confused state and dips its paws in mine. The sun brings rest to my eyelids yet the  moon brings light to my eyes and smoke through my lungs like a jumper to trains.

Blood doesn't guarantee you love, it guarantees you hurt, expectations and questions, my blood has died, has left the state and has put more space in me than pluto ever could from the earth. Yet I need more space to think to have her understand but I am tired of thinking, sick of swallowing and above analyzing.    Where did her face go? The one that matched mine when we used to build forts and catch lightening bugs, while sneaking sweets when mom was cooking. Why do I crave her attention? Why do I need it, and why does she not realize this? She cares. But only when it is convenient and nothing is convenient anymore.
Just let me go, I love Outer-space too much to think of you in it.

- M