west coast writer

a place for prose and poetry

[writerfromthewest-blog]

please don't forget I am

I dissappear from the mind as quickly as a dream.

I am vapor, residing in a void of distant memory, recalled

only when a detached mind has need of a basin with which to

fill their sorrows. Then, emptied, they leave without thinking to

ask if I need emptying too.

[writerfromthewest-blog]

I wanted so much

too much

[writerfromthewest-blog]

I'm still trying to figure out why I exist

[writerfromthewest-blog]

no medicine

sorrows swim in a sea of

anti-depressants.

I’ve come full stop and

no one cares.

[writerfromthewest-blog]

Fever

I wish you were next to me, so close I could feel all 98.6 degrees of you.

I wish you were next to me, so close you could feel the same heat, then the fever that always comes.

I am a forest fire at your touch, the break of your smile, the crinkle of your electric eyes.

[speakthewritelanguage]

She can hear the sky pounding on the roof above her head. It thunders likes the hooves of a thousand horses. It roars like the collected voice of wounded spirits. She imagines kissing him in bed beside her. The cacophony rages outside. She watches the moisture bead on her window, but imagines sunny skies reflected in his eyes. All who love are poets, she thinks, as drums and cymbals rattle the heavens. And we poets, merely scars.

[writerfromthewest-blog]

little souls in overgrown bodies

No one ever stops being a child. We just learn to crawl into our own beds after we’ve been frightened by the irrational, screaming world, learn to tell ourselves everything is fine, that the monsters aren’t real even when it’s not, and they are.

[writerfromthewest-blog]

i wish i was better than i am.

i wish i was as good as they see me.

i wish i was okay with what i am not.

[writerfromthewest-blog]

cry out, from the underground

sometimes i feel like i don’t exist, like i go in and out of bouts of invisibility.

there are moments i want to hide from the thousands of eyes that hold me in their gaze.

then there are days, weeks, months, years, when i am screaming myself hoarse -

oh please notice me oh please notice me i’m here i’m here i’m

here.

[writerfromthewest-blog]

the threat of friendship

last night I woke up to rain, my headache gone and my body sighing. there was light in my room that seemed to tickle the darkness, but it held its laughs, resolute. i thought of you and how it’s been so long, how you said we’d talk when you came home - but you’re not coming home again.

i’m just so tired of how things change -

how i’m never ready when they do.

[writerfromthewest-blog]

when enough is not enough

I am on the cusp of being so in love with you. But I dam myself, hold it back, keep it pushed as deep as it will go.

There are days when I am bursting, a geyser bubbling with affection for only, only, only you.

And there are other days when I can wait, when the waters calm, and the mere possibility of you is enough-

but

today is not one of those days.

[writerfromthewest-blog]

direction

you whispered to me in bed on a cold, rainy day after a brutal attack of the nerves and heart. “failure won’t tempt you…it never has.” i cried, swallowed your words, let them buzz at the base of my soul.

i felt you buzzing tonight, i felt you creeping up to remind me of your whispers all those months ago. i felt your reminder, that gentle nudge, in the right direction.

[writerfromthewest-blog]

This is not what we are and everyone can see it but you.

[writerfromthewest-blog]

25th day of the 8th month of the 5th year

Haven’t had a moment alone in such a long time, and every other moment is filled with feelings of inadequacy, of invisibility when under the eyes of those I wish would love me in the way I need.

You are so selfish and broken and you keep cutting me with your jagged edges and you can’t even see me bleed -

(I wish I could talk to her, the one I paid to understand me, but apparently everything leaves, even therapists.)

I just wish you’d see how much you’ve broken me and I wish you’d care, but when was the last time you saw me and felt? When was the last time you loved me in the way I need?

[writerfromthewest-blog]

inward perception

I am a small skeleton trying to hide her bones from the world. I play my ribs like a cartoon xylophone and it sounds not like music, but noise, so high and painful that I am humming at a pitch none can hear.

[writerfromthewest-blog]

in the afternoon I thought

to live with you forever in a house near the water and the trees is becoming my newest, most intangible dream.

[writerfromthewest-blog]

fans

All too often disgusted with the thought of being the same. I will not trail behind the idealized dream, hoping it will choose me. I will not clamor for the attention ill-gotten and fake. I will not conform to desperate, obsessive love.

You are so much more than that to me.