late nights, bright lights

he aches for a luscious petal
always want languid moments
wet your hair for me
knifed and parted as she ran after shadows
i worship a mad peach-gown goddess
you urge me like a windstorm
elaborate symphony of a thousand gorgeous singing winter roses
music: deliriousfrantic&essential
my flood was bitter repulsive pink
dream in moonlight & under sweet summer sunshine
moan a chant or pant a sordid whisper to an eternity
lie in a garden of cool diamond black girls
it is as if he is at these forest roads with us
what power would produce those stares?
true friends play with blood
never beneath ugly boys please
some say-sea spray-so sad-sleep-stop
they crushed together behind her car
i want to chain him like a lust puppy
scream out your delicate void
dress me in white & red robes
rain beats life still after death
we could picture the lake in fall
time boils blue water of your sweat
soar - not trudge
lather the mean man, then ship them away from your mother
take my honey smooth skin to your bed

So close.

So fucking close.

I can't stay in my room, it feels awkward. None of my friends are around, there's no where outside that seems suitable. I snuck into the lounge, hoping to catch a quiet moment, and comfortable corner.

I sat down
behind a couch
pen to paper.

Thirteen words in.

'Heeeeeeeey, what are you doing back there?'

Worst fears realized. You can't escape him, he's just like a whirlwind. It reels you in and spits you out and your head won't stop spinning for days, I guarantee you.

We talked and, oh god, it was deranged. Chemistry, Owen Meany, dead cats (a topic I know all too well), children, David Bowie, the elderly, going to concerts and Jeffery Dahmer. How do these even begin to relate together? [Don't ask, don't tell]

We even postulated on the very nature of the unvierse. Suffice to say my view was bitter, in even, steady parallel to his overtly cheery ideas.

I'm left with the same sense of hollow, though it might not be so bitter a hollow now.

Were any of the things he said true? Had I really made a difference?

I am home, whether or not I chose to realize this. And it is here I shall have to fight to overcome. I cannot let this win, nor can I let my unnatural fear- of people like him, and people that are very much different than him- affect me in the way that it is tonight.

I find a scrap of poetry now, that I copied down long ago. What for? Because it seemed interesting? Maybe just to find tonight?

I don't think I shall ever know.

From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.
--Edgar Allan Poe

Hmm, you know what's better than writing essays about gosh knows what?

Writing really bad poetry.

So without [much] further ado:

The Sources Of Happiness

Raindrops hit the window glass
Hot chocolate by the gallon
-with marshmallows too.
Grilled cheese on a plate and
a new Rufus Wainwright c.d.
Cotton candy bubble gum
The new Harry Potter book comes out in a few years
Michael Arden singing songs
A shiny dime
Good news making the front page.

and of course A Pond At Night

The calm water bright in the moonlight
The crickets chirping mournfully
Beautiful, serene, placid
But one close look reveals
The truth lurking beneath the black surface:
Nothing at all but stagnant water
The still depths display only a dim reflection
Of yourself looking back up at you.
There is nothing under,
No life, no motion, just stillness
Silence
Emptiness
Coldness
You shudder and turn away.

You are all scarred for life from reading that. Don't lie, it was bad, wasn't it?