Abnormally Cold

I am so cold that my breath comes out as frost.
I thought I left from the cold to the warmth but,
I'm beginning to see that's just not the case.
Maybe it's just me. Maybe it's all a trick.
Then again maybe it's because I'm getting sick.

Try and think of warm thoughts. Thoughts of
big fuzzy blankets, hot tea, being bundled up
feeling all comfy. Okay I think I'm losing feeling
to my feet. I think they are becoming ice blocks.
Maybe I'm just exaggerating. Maybe I should wear
double socks. Then again maybe I should consider ice skating.

Leaving this room should be a good idea right?
Guess not, not if I know I'm going to another just
as cold or colder. I might be so cold to consider not
going to class. No, not true. As much as I'd like to be
warm and dreaming I'm afraid I'll just have to keep on freezing.

Nothing important

And you, you walk away as if you have nothing left to say. Yet here I am feeling alone in every which way. I am fighting against the current, fighting just to breath in this vast sea of emptiness you had to choose to leave....

Food for thought....time to think this one through.

Ramblings to no one

While playing a card game with my friend (I was losing horribly) she decided to make fun of how badly I was playing though I think it's all sheer luck when it comes to playing twenty-one. We were really just rambling out random things and I'm not sure how we came to this conclusion but once she said it we couldn't stop laughing. Julie randomly said, "It's like a vast sea of emptiness!" "Really Julie? That could be such a harsh comment to someone, though it come close to badly I'm losing" I said as I was contemplating the true depth of her statement. We kept laughing until we realized when we have a lot of sugar and play cards we seem to say some very deep stuff that normally people would say all seriously, but we say it laughing at each other. Hmm...vast sea of emptiness...and now when all the games and laughter are said and down I sit and ponder on these few words. I think I might use these words in something, maybe a song I'm not sure yet.

Out of Touch

Literally...I'm back "home" and i feel as if a part of me is missing. What a I missing? Have no idea. It's almost like I'm walking...walking in fog , but I'm not scared just curious. "Curiosity killed the cat you know," my conscious asks. This is true, but Satisfaction brought it back. And that's my plan. Figure out what I'm missing and go after it....maybe it'll work.

Quicksand

Raising your legs and lying on your back
keeps you from sinking in quicksand. Knowing
this will lnever help me I thought. As if
I'll ever need that. I'mm not going to places
that have any pitfalls like this.

No jungles or perilous terrains. No
swamps or dangerous lands. I thought I
was safe. But now here I am sinking into
this bottomless pit of goo. It's thick and rough
and pulls at my limbs as I try to break free.

No, don't struggle this hungry beast will only
swallow faster. I scream to myself as I
try to move, but only feel the tug of
my body sinking slowly. Attempt after
attempt things just get worse.

This snare is getting the best of me.
Raise your legs! Lay on your back then you
won't sink! But how do I do anything
when this quicksand is really just me.
Mistake after mistake it just keeps going.

Here I am struggling to breath to grab some
sure footing. But to no avail I feel myself
being pulled away from this person that's
sinking further and further into the snare
and now I'm gone in blackness.

I'm finally awake from this nightmare.

Sadistic?

Everyone rises and looks to the back.

It’s the bride they are all looking at of course.

Through all the roses and all the white

I have trouble being happy while in this seat.

Everyone sits thus the priest starts to monologue.

At least that’s what it feels like to me anyways.

It just keeps going and going and now I’ve lost

a year of my life here in this moment.

Yes, I sound angry but I’m not,

just agitated at sitting in this pew for hours.

Here and now isn’t the place I want to be.

I want to be far away from all the women

blubbering over how everything is

so beautiful. I’d rather be at the reception,

but that seems to be five years from now.

I don’t mean to sound so upset I’m just

agitated at sitting in this pew for hours.

A Half Made Dress

A half made dress filled with pins and pictures.

Pictures of women of friends and of sisters.

They are put in a way that only eyes can tell,

that there is more to it than just a dress.

Old photographs of women close together.

They are put in a fashion like plaid, like fabric.

Pins, needles aligned closely without interruption.

Close as if they were the girls in the pictures.

Put together to form a half made dress.

It is a dress not worn now a day it is,

a dress worn by these women, these gal pals.

In the pictures the women are all smiling.

A dress, a dress that is smiling back at me.