Climbing Anthills...

When did our mountain top, transform into the entrance of an anthill? When did we start accepting defeat, welcoming hand me downs, begging to sing and dance with an unhumanlike, instantly manufactured smile, and only reaching for that 7'-5" high rim, instead of the stars only a few thousand miles away? When did minds start to only collaborate and differ on who's staying with which record label, instead of starting proposals, presentations (power point, of course) and starting petitions, aiding in the creation of active and developed community centers, parks, consumer-minded businesses/restaurants (forget McDonalds, the chinese food store around the corner and the corner store, forget 50 cent sodas and lil debbie snacks)??? When did we forget about us, not me, but us? True, we are not are responsible for each other, we're really not, but maybe we should...care. We should care for others, for the people we see everyday, for those who share a common mother - for those who don't, for those who serve us our Toffee Nut Latte every morning, for those who beg us for a penny-a nickel-anything on the train while we keep our heads low/avoid eye contact, we should care for everyone: easier said than done, I know but...maybe, maybe then, in the end there will be millions caring for us,
guiding us,
pushing us,
forever racing us up mountains,
instead of simply pointing out the same ol' anthill millions have climbed, achieved and which within they have remained...

Re:Sound

At night, she would cry. Always seeking to silence, to hide her cries, she'd bury her head in her pillow. As if cotton, polyester, feathers or whatever it is, could drown out and absorb her cries...her pain. The tears now, her new language, she was always too choked up, too engulfed in herself for any other means of expression. Sometimes the tears rolled down her face with their own impeccable timing, as soon as one approached her chin, another prepared itself at the tear duct for take off. Other times, they weren't there, but she thought them - gushing down her face - she imagined so intently of their existence, that she couldn't help but to continuously wipe her cheeks with the back side of her hands. Her crying now consumed her, it was all she wanted to do. It's all that she will ever do, until she comes to the realization that her continuous inversion, her crying is her continuous lie to the world. Her truth comes in silencing her tears and turning up and out the entangled song of her heart for the midnight sky to hear.

Have You Ever Danced with the Devil Under the Pale Moon Light!!?! (I know I really shouldn't of wrote anything here)*

Kept company by the anxious night, I wonder.
I wandered.
Through the pitch black sky,
where no stars are visible
I see what I want,
I see my peace.
Now all I need is a flashlight.
Forget it,
I'll wait until the sun comes out tomorrow...maybe.

*I just saw Batman Begins, forgive me for this piece.

Tight Grip

Let's keep things real casual,
real cool like.
Let's keep things up in the air,
floating with the clouds.
Let's keep things between you and me,
on the low - no one really needs to see,
how our love, oops
I mean friendship, aquaintance-ship, could be.
Let's keep things real loose,
loose enough to lose...
me.
But it doesn't really matter because you can't misplace what you never had.
You can't claim reparations for what you never lost.
There's no losing me, because I was never yours...
Goodbye, Oh wait, nevermind.

For Life I'm a Glutton

There is so much that I want.
There is so many things that I want to do.
There are so many people I want to know.
There is so much I want to know.
Now, I know I can't achieve it all...
from living, not living but idling within these four walls, but...
failure taunts my hopes,
uncertainty insults my spirit,
my self-loathing heckles my attempts to rule the world,
my world that is.
My world that's so out of control in its contained and so heavily maintained state.
Needing to break out...I realize I have to stay.
Needing to be free...I realize I have only one option.
Needing to need nothing...
I realize I need to live...not just get by anymore.

What's Your Favorite Color?...Mine?...Him. (Cheesy, I know)

Like a 6:54 evening sky, it's weird, but...you frighten me.
Maybe it's your seemingly soft orange,
floating,
above your shy yet daring purple, slowly crawling over the East River.
Paralyzing my mind through this heaven-like event,
you've engaged me.
I want to take your oranges, your purples and your periwinkle blues too,
just to go crazy with my 1 inch brush and a canvas,
forget that, just hand me a box of crayolas and a white washed wall.
As long as I can have your colors, your soul, your song...the rhythm of your heart beat will do...
I can create...
a new world,
the never ending story,
that will make all of mankind stop at approximately 6:54 pm (in every time zone of course)
To share in my moment of solace and experience their soul being haunted,
by seeing you...
my heaven
my god
my love
my guy
my muse.

Closer to You

I crave...to hold you.
You?
I don't really know who you are, or if you exist...God dammit, I hope you do.(my little moment of despair)
But I do want to touch you.
Every inch, half an inch at a time.
Ok, maybe I don't want to touch every crevasse, but I do want to feel all of you.
I want your joy.
I want all the sadness housed in your heart to radiate and heat my body.
And inevitably pour out as sweat through every pore on my skin,
trickling down my simply brown thigh...
that's you...craving to hold me.

Touching the Hand of God...really?

In a daydream (I have many during the course of a day), in a daydream I saw myself walking.
Just walking, I don't know where and I don't know where to.
I was just walking, as if I was cruisin in my very own candy-apple-martini-green caddy.
Damn I wish I had a cadillac...but anyway I was just walking,
a road I have never seen before, maybe one set in the country like on tv...it's for damn sure this city girl doesn't see dirt roads that often...(and not dirt as in mcdonald containers and am newspapers, I see plenty of those)
I saw myself walking alone but it didn't seem to be that I was.
Now, my half catholic, half atheist self did not believe that I was walking with god or jesus or something, but I know for sure in this mental episode or maybe during the development of a brain aneurysm (by the way I'm extremely paranoid) I was not alone despite their being no other character in this story but myself.
At one point in this b.s., my arm was raised,
then i started to feel myself being pulled up, just as my arm was.
No expression of resistance could be depicted on my face, but I knew that I was trying to stay down, down on this incomprehensible road.
Why?
...man, I just do not...
First guess, I think my cousin is right...I am the devil's lovechild!!!?!

Filthy...

The residue of love shadowed the tear drop that rolled down her face.

Too much in awe to wipe it off or maybe just too scared that it would never returned...

she continued to cry.

To weep for a man who lifted her up...

just to quickly hide the dirt that developed after an impromptu dusting of his heart.

This chore, only accomplished because he met someone...else.

Not prettier or smarter or funnier - just newer.

Not stained...by his needs of course.

Not polluted...by his mental, no, soul abuse.

Not contaminated...by his seed, one that will flourish, to further besmirch the other half of the human race.

Not filthy...like how he leaves them all.