your words declare you love me. the tone is: abandoned carnival one last clown. standing in the smoke- alone. holding a bottle of jack, a balloon giraffe oh and that cynical dollar store smile and laugh the setting is dark the elephants are dead the freaks are free now the cotton candy is gone And the Ferris wheel's closed now that lila's dead. And you utter again i love you. and i know the truth your words: are just noise summoned by empty passion romance you thought you learned from a porno you saw once when you were young if this is love. get the hell away from me. i will love myself and mean it i will hold myself and not break my own bones i will forgive myself forever, look myself dead in the eyes and say: Self, i love you. purely and forever.
if you will not touch me now- i will hold my own hand. i fell in love with you years ago and now that i've confessed my affection the empty feeling looms and you leave me again alone with myself and my own love. holding my own hand forever for better or worse i will show you how to be good, how to be faithful by being good to myself-faithful and true to my spirit. i have hidden the word of of the lord deep down in my heart you lack the ability to love me properly and you forget that i am made of dust and bone i stand before you sustained strong alone. nun hearted dark forest
holy ghost heartbeat. Calvary love. watch the crimson hits the sand.
If the stars were made to worship so will I If the mountains bow in reverence so will I If the oceans roar Your greatness so will I For if everything exists to lift You high so will I If the wind goes where You send it so will I If the rocks cry out in silence so will I If the sum of all our praises still falls shy Then we’ll sing again a hundred billion times
oh my gosh THE RISE AND THE FALL! of THE chase- the chase of all chases the surrendering way, you throw your hands up- away from me. i sway into the truth you cover your ears rejecting the news. enough is enough you chased my love 19 months and when i say stop you take it to heart. The New York Post slides under my hotel room door front page is your face-just for today headline reads: *bold font* "the big star" with talent but in the end his pride ruins it all" headline is: "charming cliche of a man chases a lovely woman catches her tricks her only to run away! after his tour extended past may. (tour sales down despite radio plays) headline says: " majority of charismatic men are all sad at night- no matter how many fans they have! the price of extroversion: is pain! the price of the lead role is: loneliness and no one to call when you feel like dying like, for real this time" the rise and fall of whatever the hell that was just late night calls and static, so much static. flash forward to you leaving for a new pair of eyes lips hair hands words. 52 cities deep: you will find a version of me, In her. A fever dream fantasy you will seek Flash forward to 2am The south, about to enter REM picture those haunted hallways where a woman's intuition and her subconscious meet (repeat repeat repeat) I don't miss him because you can't miss a person who never really knew you only the fantasy of you that they crafted based on what? a cartoon? i don't dream of him, ever. i dream of heath ledger wearing a fisherman sweater on a pale beach and the little mermaid when she gets her new feet. 9 cities later: back to my replacement Crystal ball says its a girl with a common middle name a girl who is younger than me with less sorrowing in her eyes less words in her vocabulary never left the Midwest hasn't heard of Budapest you speak and she cheers you ignore her and she feels she's done something wrong you're her sun and she needs you now to function she's too young to know that the cycle starts with the chase ends with the escape the silence the amnesia skip to 2 years later December in Ohio "don't i know you from somewhere" and he is honestly asking you this because he is the sun self appointed but the sun move on to the far east its late spring she's a college girl less fight in her swing less pain. fewer memories fewer lives fewer mistakes maybe a girl who has a sister that's not dead ans haunting her family maybe her story is less heartbreak less weeping more singing Wednesday night testimony girl in a jean skirt pretty face big flirt the winter you flew to Europe the winter you stopped calling your father middle of nowhere on a train headed to Paris you see her and she is close to resembling me just a little bit. you open your mouth to begin the game the cycle is spinning and she laughs in your face she walks away and the daily mail has given you a nickname now one that you hate headline says: "you're looking weak" they interview a nutritionist who speculates on your shrinking frame "hollow eyes lack of smile pale complexion" headline reads: "ALIVE but mostly dead" And the women sitting outside of a cafe the morning of the headlines you refuse to read from today feel sorry for you. feel happy they have boyfriends who love them in the purest way. love without a timeline, without the seduction of fame that's the thing about good women we were born wearing our crowns wisdom is our best friend discernment is engraved in the bones of our bodies our skin is made of prophetic cells our hearts are homes for the holy spirit and the love for babies and pale oceans you write me to tell me "i miss you. I'm lonely" i read this and feel nothing. i reply with the sunglass emoji. you cursing the day we began is how that conversation came to an end. sometimes, i miss the wolves that used to chase me but for the most part, I don't. i know they will be back for more heartbreak a sad woman is worth more than a million happy ones the currency of pain: to feel anything in a country so numb is a delicacy just a gram of her sadness will cost you a piece of your soul but my god it's worth it a thousand time over like crack cocaine they beg me for romance knowing the high won’t stay the comedown is coming the sun is rising with the throbbing craving for more addicted to this second hand ache with still born stories of hope laced in hate a future we can’t hold we can barley create in the corners of the town that neither of us claim curating heartbreak calling it fate.
eventually you get sick of the graveyards you visit so you build new ones this cycle goes on and on gradually you leave the rituals that kept you alive alive just to mourn the dead is no way to live. with respect for the good ones gone: let them fly. they have wings. they are the light in all things. and for the rest of them: let the dead bury the dead listen to the soil doing the job you thought was your own.
There is no shame in the early morning hours. Moonlight on your pain: The cleansing wax and wane. How you would start a fire in the desert: Sun on object- light on body forming: fire on wound burning the ache into beautiful flames (the reverse)
"Life and death, energy and peace. If I stop today, it was still worth it. Even the terrible mistakes that I made and would have unmade if I could. The pains that have burned me and scarred my soul, it was worth it, for having been allowed to walk where I've walked, which was to hell on earth, heaven on earth, back again, into, under, far in between, through it, in it, and above." - Gia
the first year i fell in love was real missing puzzle piece vibes.
the same kinda feeling you get when you hear your favorite song for the very first time:
the chorus is what you've been singing a lifetime without music
its just an understanding
it resonates deep within you
your whole body absorbing
The first time I fell in love and the first time my heart was ripped out of my chest without any warning both have their own melody.
Falling in love
The Start & The Finish
never produces your best work.
Something about contentment
your audience loses interest.
Heartbreak produces the best work of your life
Because when he called the whole thing off and you wept for 8 days straight because he doesn't love you at all.
You throw up because rejection can feel like a poison
Really when I think about it no one was created to store rejection in their bodies…it has no place in the brain or veins or DNA.
You pause life because you're in too much pain to move.
You love someone who does not love you back and one night you weep harder than you did the day you came into this world.
You weep for the hearts you've led on…then lost.
you can write about this
foreign objects and blood forever.
Flashback to the Hudson river
when you spoke without a hint of life in your voice.
You weren't a person in this moment.
You were a forest fire
burning history books and homes with memories and pictures and promises inside.
You were a gas leak burning down that apartment on the upper east,29th and 9th,the l.e.s
Sleepwalking through times square
fazed and dazed forever
5 am Tribeca.
And all the gardens of hope that once bloomed around
and within you-
are ashes and dust.
Music playing in the taxi
you kick the cabby's seat
because this song triggers you into mania
the melody you wrote in your deepest sea of sadness
so if you wanted to be happy
and if you could change everything you ever did on this island...
In a desert land he found him, in a barren and howling waste.
He shielded him and cared for him; he guarded him as the apple of his eye.Deuteronomy 32:10