It's 4:10 in the AM and I need to write
My second *** and diet coke is taking affect
Partly because I'm running out of diet coke
and partly because I want so desperately to be in this state of mind
I need creative release.
(This is ironic because I'm an artist.)
At least, when people ask me what I do... I say I'm an artist
But lately I can't
Just.
Can't.
I've run up against some demon
Who chants "thou shall not pass, thou shalt NOT"
He is likely a remnant of my last relationship.
I see her everywhere.
I think she drives a silver sedan now
So whenever I see one driving past, I shiver.
There are a million in my small city.
I see ALL of them.
I smile when they pass
So on the off chance she is occupying the driver's seat,
She will know that I overcame her bitterness
I am hypocrisy through and through.
The tobacco on my shirt stinks of all the false promises I've never kept.
It is a vile reminder that I am a cliché wrapped in a gas station burrito
I am naked here.
I am exposing all of the parts that I've vowed to keep inside.
Inside where the A/C can keep the sweat from revealing itself.
My creativity is a joke.
(I don't understand the punch line but I continue to laugh.)
She must have gobbled up the right hemisphere of my brain.
Maybe not her, but the ever-present ghost of what I agreed to allow into my soul
Her white-hot beautiful and angry ghost
Why can't I remove her violent spirit from my bedroom.
Jesus Christ hear me as I cry your name.
Exercise the ghosts of my last three years.
I sweat realism.
You would disagree if you saw my paintings.
Playful.
Happy.
Primary triad displayed proudly.
It's that part of me that says that this very poem needs editing.
It needs to be set right.
It needs.
THIS POEM IS SELF AWARE.

twinkle birds and tessellates, bends my mind to outer space. lands me in infinity of never ending affinity to the universe.
but sweetest ideas were shortly lived at reality slowly sifts away to repeated visions that turn loved faces into panic that glitches me into unbreakable circles of walk away, walk away.
no awareness of a before from this feel the abyss of this helplessness **** me into no ending so I seice to begin.
but as the panic subsides my mind starts to ride the energy that resides in my being from the kingfisher floor to the fish strewn ceiling.
sentient beings **** at the seams, my dream of weightlessness pull the windows to break towards the secrets of simple existence.
invisible water sends the strands of fur swelling and glowing into talk of the polar bear whose hair weaves into the atoms that feed my jumbled dreams.

hands rip through the plaster as the sounds grow louder and faster, helicopters shake the boiler from the pipes but I still feel great.
the tables tremble as I soak up the bass and the treble. sensual overload through my eyes the magic multiplies, angels can hear my sighs as the roof opens to tunnel towards the skies.
geometric patterns that I could never have imagines circle and sweep, creeping my further from sleep.
I have breached something new, an extreme that dares its self to be seen only my the few who ****** it. I grab these new senses and attach it to my masses of emotions, that have been formed my these chemicals. neutrons and protons that explore the breadth oh Pantones schemes, weaving into the atoms that feed my jumbles dreams.

release my mind from the confines of rinse and repeat, out of easy street and onto the sunrise that surrounds me. revelations that never siese to confound me.
destruction was peace pulling my beliefs, daring the world to touch me as the floor tips the cabinets from the walls. I am small. here in this perfect world. my hands make the plants grow as they show me all it takes to break the confines of the human condition is to expand your mind and reposition your nervous system to reach a different supposition.



little lion
please read my other work if you like this one!
http://trivialitesofabusymind.blogspot.co.uk/

A little about me..

Jacquelyn Audrey
Nearly sixteen to others
Nearly nineteen to myself

Insane
Smart
Afraid of the dark
AnXiEtY
D e p r e s s i o n
BPD

Writer
Mezzo soprano to tenor
Painter

No impulse control
Worries too much
Cares too little

Likes being alone
But not being lonely

That's all I can really think of.

i found a letter that i wrote to you
stuck in the case of my favorite cd.

signed

i love you,
          -michelle

when i saw those words
i thought about
                 standing in your driveway
shaking as you held me
               we were fixing the mistakes we'd made
And I thought about you pushing me
                                    in that shopping cart
hair in my face and laughter in my mouth

And I keep going back to the
time we slept on the floor
the snow falling heavy like blankets outside
                       your neck was a magnet for my lips
                       my fingers were glued in between yours
                       my eyes could not blink for looking at you



When i found the letter i wrote to you
signed

i love you,
          -michelle

at the bottom

I tore it into a thousand minuscule pieces

my tears inking my own ****** words
                into my fingertips