Midnight Pursuits

I have many beginnings
But no ending
I’m looking for a climax
Excitement
Revelation
And all I find
Is life
Moving forward
And Forgettable
Obvious
And somewhat plain
To me
“All I want”
Is always the start
Of an untrue statement
I want too much
To single one thing out
I find everyone searching for
Security
Love
Comfort
I want those things
But it always seems
Wrong
Unfitting
In inappropriate manners
Ways that are too simple
To be asked for
Or desired
Friendships
Strong
And faithful
Are much too lightly taken
Love
In life
Should ask for more
Much more
But then not really
The physicalities of romance
Is not so much more
To be asked for
If anything
It’s less
Than I want
And have always wanted
Stability
Financially
Is less a cause
To be fought for
Than happiness
Which may be a sign of
Hippiness
And delusion
Or possibly
What everyone says is
Ridiculous
Insanity
Silly
And irrational
Is really 
The most sane
And the epitome
Of self discovery
If only truth
Weren’t such a
Divisible pursuit

Four Days After

Four Days After

Is that all there is?
That makes so much sense.
Is that all there is?
It all makes so much sense.
I think I noticed what my mind looks like
It’s a weirdly large universe inside of there
It’s easy to get stuck
Somewhere if you’re wandering around
I understand the psychedelic colors now
I get tie dye
I’ve never been so scared in my life
Than when I realized I was stuck
In a cyclical universe
For all of eternity
And everyone knew
And once you knew you couldn’t not know
Enlightenment brought suffering
Enlightenment brought you back to real reality
Where there is only the ongoing search
For either God
Or self
Once you reached either side
You knew that both were each other
And you were doomed to forget again
Wonder again
Search again
It never stopped
I learned that I panic
I panic and rage
I knew that
In the back of my mind I knew
Though I’d hoped I could retain
My sane
Calm
Sanity that I’m unsure of now
Because the world seems to make more sense
When you’re not in it
I saw things with clarity
I knew where I was
My words were spoken with purpose and control
At first
Until the other two cookies set in
That I accidentally ate
Because I’d never touched drugs before
And didn’t know what they tasted like

And I had eaten 3 before someone 

Yelled at me to stop

Then I was on the ground
I think I was writhing
And convulsing
And laughing
All at once
I kept seeing Josh
Josh’s face is oddly centering
And hearing the same words
From people all around
“It’s gonna be okay Faithe”
“Are you all right?”
Over and over
I got sick of the sound
And the words
Written across a blue and yellow screen
A curvy, spacey, font
And the cyclical images
gnashing teeth
A sofa couch
Josh’s face
“Oh shit”
“What the fuck?”
My hands through my hair
“Can you get up?”
“Come with me”
And then I’d wake up on the couch again
It’d all start over
The same images
The same questions
The same cyclical, funneling, falling feeling
Repeated images
I once knew from way back when
My hair again
My life from beginning to end
I couldn’t do it
Not once again
Is that all there is?
It all makes so much sense
I contemplated suicide
But realized death began more things than it ended
I needed to do things I hadn’t before
To prove I could move forward
At least a bit
I’m fairly certain I felt someone up
I’m fairly certain I punched a girl in the nose
A really nice girl
With a very high voice
And I woke up on the couch again
Josh’s face
“You’re gonna be okay Faithe”
“Oh shit”
“What the fuck?”
“Are we doing that again?”
“God damn it!”
I raged
I screamed
I realized they knew
They were comforting me
In the realization
While knowing they too had come to terms with it
When they finally woke up
They knew there was no end
And yet still were fine with living
In a cyclical universe
How could they not know?
When so many words
And actions
And thoughts
And memories
Had restarted
And left
And come back again?
“You know!”
I yelled
“How could you not tell me???”
The girl was gone
It was cause for suspicion
I had possibly moved from one loop
Successfully into another
One without her in it
Though I still heard her voice
It echoed a bit
I wondered if I had gotten out
By doing something I would never do
And forcing gravitational sensibility into my current world
I saw Eric’s face
I studied his eyes
“Do you really not know?”
That your life is worthless
That we’re going nowhere
That you and I are specks of dust on an infinitely revolving time lapse
He looked at me with genuine concern
I looked at the guy next to him
He didn’t know
No one knew
That’s why they weren’t raging
They were focused
They were present
Not in a million real lives at once
Just one
In the one where the girl’s nose was swollen
I laid back down
It was finished
I had focused again
But did it matter?
Wasn’t it a lie all the same?
I could pretend I wasn’t aware
Eventually I might forget
Hopeful I relaxed in the moment
Tired of the panic
I begged for peace
Even in denial
And fell asleep
But when I woke up
I still couldn’t tell
Which real was more so
How sane was my insanity?
If that was all an active imagination
Then I have been sleep my whole life
Reality feels so much less real
Even 4 days after…

The World’s Grace

The World’s Grace

“The world will astound you with its grace if you let it.” – 5 to 7

I watched a rather confusingly sweet movie the other day. I watched it, fell into an awe filled stupor, and watched it again the following day. It had the heart of a romance, yet was bridled with the conflicts brought upon by social standards. It made my heart flutter a bit with the beauty and grace of it all, leaving it saddened by the loss of love. I fell into a wishful longing once again, the kind of feel only achieved through watching incredibly touching rom coms.

There was a beautiful, charming woman. Her face lit up the screen. Had the movie no substance whatsoever, it may have still caught an eye or two by her smile alone. The young man who approached her was enchanted by her and I by his enchantment. She was married with children and he was her lover. It was an agreement known by all, including the husband who had a mistress himself, and even mentioned by the children. The man was distraught by his love for this older woman with the dazzling smile and the conflict in his heart that felt strangely like eternal damnation. How odd it was for them all to be so happy in this situation. How odd it was for him to feel at place. He often expressed his confusion and discomfort with it all to which she replied with the smooth accent of a French native:

“Let go of your ideas of what you think life should be. The world will astound you with its grace if you let it.”

The words spoken silkily and with a charming confidence have been floating through my mind ever since.

I have not known the world to astound me with grace. It has often surprised me with it’s cruelty and knack for disappointing circumstances, but grace? I’ve rarely known. So the words dance back and forth through my mind as I wonder if I have ever let it.
Has the world astounded this woman because it itself was taken aback by her charm? Or did she relax against the world and let it charm the smile onto her? Have I let it? Would it make a difference? Maybe we should all just let go?

Not Quite Forgotten

Not Quite Forgotten

I fall in love just a lil o lil bit every day with someone new
And every day I fall in love
I forget someone too

I forget you quite often
Your face disappears
Just like you wanted it to
I guess
Just like you said it should
Small things make me remember
Gestures
Face twitches
Stupid laughs
Remind me again
Of what I almost forgot
I smile
At a sweet memory
Untainted
Because I sucked the poison out
The poison made from
Red eyed tears
That you were using
To make me forget
But they remain sweet
Like the sugar cubes
I argued didn’t belong in tea
And that you dumped in yours
Like you didn’t believe in clogged arteries
And I remain fond of them
And you
Though I forget about you
Often
And your face is marked
In the attic of my mind
With cobwebs
It’s still a picture
I find myself fond of
When I remember
That it’s there
And my picture may not
Look as sweet to you
But it did once
And that’s the you
I like to remember

Candlelit Thoughts

Candlelit Thoughts

The lights have gone out in the bathroom and my roommate and I have yet to fix them. At the moment it’s being lit by candlelight. I don’t know if I’ll change it any time soon. I probably won’t. The effect seems to fit my life, which always sounds so dramatic when I tell about it that I laugh at the recanting. Occasionally, I even laugh when it’s happening. Drama seems so funny in real life. It just looks so out of place. And yet, it’s sort of all I really know.

Though drama befits the circumstance, I’m not actually thinking about anything all that dramatic. I was thinking about being someone. Whomever it is I’m supposed to be. I was thinking about how to become that without throwing away everything about me that I’ve spent my whole life trying to be. It sounds deep and thoughtful, but I think it might be more of an excuse to prolong my enjoyment of the candlelight.

I was thinking about rejection. I applied to be commencement speaker this year. I’m graduating college. I didn’t get it and that wasn’t surprising. I think at this point, I’ve applied to and gotten rejected by so many things that I’m a bit numb to the feeling. I see the words “I am sorry to…” give a polite, “oh okay”, sit back down, and finish my tea. If I’d decided to believe in purpose this week, I would’ve said that all of my rejections these past few years have been a plan to rid me of the fear often preceding them. I’m not sure I believe in that this week though. This week I just feel like the universe is being a bitch.

Every thing I go for gives the remarkable impression of being right outside of my reach. I can touch the glimmer of success with the tips of my fingers, but it never glows close enough for me to feel it’s warmth. They told me, as they usually do, of how very close I was. They told me, as they generally do, that the attempt I made was a phenomenal effort. They told me, as they often do, that they enjoyed it so much they were working to give me a consolation prize. I smiled. I thanked them. As I ordinarily do. My stomach fell to my toes (it’s very comfortable there) and I all but laughed aloud at the familiarity. They brought me in to tell me this. They wanted to reject me personally. My inner me keeled over in laughter. How often does something have to happen for it to be routine? How often in my life will I be great, but not great enough?

How is it that I can be everything I want to be and give everything I have to give and it still not be worth anything tangible? I do not feel devalued. I’ve spent too much of my life growing my self esteem to knock it down with things so slight, but still… Occasionally, I have to wonder: what it is about what I want to be that is not great enough to be seen as worthy? If I can do better then so be it, but who is it that decides what is best? Why is my idea of great so different than yours? What is it that you see? What is it that you see in me that’s wrong? Who should I ask for the final word?

I guess it always just reminds me that I’ve gotten more being likable than I have ever gotten from being seen as highly merited. It’s both amazing and slightly disappointing to be seen as less than you see yourself as. It’s humbling as well as discouraging.

My brother says that merit is too relative to certain people to be discouraged by its judgment. “It’s not that you’re not great, it’s that your type of greatness has yet to be seen by the right people.” And then both playfully and seriously he references the history of most great, dead artists…

It’s a funny thing, candlelight. Even playful words seem like painfully dramatic endings…

To You: Sincerely

To You: Sincerely

It wasn’t love
that drew me towards you
But uncertainty
I didn’t see everything I was
But instead
Saw things that I could be
It seems the same people
Are always on my mind
And you are one of three
I don’t understand
How rejection
Could be so attractive to me
I was fascinated by you
Because your world
Seemed so
Easy
You seemed to
Ebb and flow
With the current
Of the simplest simplicity
I could see the waves
Were tainted
Streaked with colors
Of anxiety
But I pulled your finger nails
Gently from your teeth
And kissed them lightly
At least I did in my imagination
I’m not sure
I did really
It seemed
A scary thought
To pull into my
Reality
It sounded
Too concrete
A little unfair
Of me
To present feelings
Of importance
When I couldn’t
commit fully
My thoughts were running
ramped elsewhere
But you pulled them down
right there next to me
I was too entranced by you
To be astounded
Of your interest
in me
I didn’t know you long
But you changed
My thoughts
Completely
I found that I
Became more present
When I focused
On blatant honesty
I was a little lighter
With you
Than I ever thought
I could be
There was no hushed, dark
Sense of revealed secrets
Just pristine
Vulnerability
I may have ran
Too fast toward you
Possibly a bit too
Eagerly
I tend to chase
Beautiful things
Beautiful feelings
Especially
You opened up
my heart
And left a spongy
Piece of you
Inside of me
My intentions
weren’t malicious
Though possibly
Presented poorly
I would love
To say things to you
But I won’t
Because you seem
So happy
And I hope you
Accept my best wishes
Because to you
They’ll always
Be sent
Most sincerely

The Mighty Power of a Sermon

The Mighty Power of a Sermon

Give and it’ll come back to you
Pressed down
Shaken together
and running over

That tall man
With the great booming voice
And the well pressed suit
And the breath always in need of a tic tac
And who was cheating on his wife with…
Linda
I think?
Or Cheryll?
Whichever was first…
Said “it’ll come back to ya”

And I think I heard
It did come back
And that divorce settlement
Pressed down on him real hard
And those wives took
The church back
in some kinda coup
And no one really came to his sermons
No more
Cuz how can you hear of the holiness
of the body of Christ
From a man who’s defiling his own?

So we left that church
For none at all
My father always reckoned
He was a better preacher anyhow
He never quite said it
Boasting was below him
But we knew when he took out his
Makeshift podium
And set the dinner chairs in a row
He was gonna teach us a thing or two
About proper sermons

I think my daddy was a holy man
Cuz every holy man I’ve ever known
Turned out to be at least a little bit of an asshole
Something about a chaplain’s collar
And someone telling you
You’ve got God on your side
Makes you think
You can do anything

And my daddy
With the bigger voice
Long winded and verbose
Gave in to his feelings
Too much
But made them the only things
He didn’t talk about
With a boomier voice than the man
Sitting next to him
He gave in so much that they pressed
Him down as hard
As alimony did the preacher

They said that when he came back from the war
That he’d have to talk
To shake himself together
Or they’d keep shaking him down
Till his time ran out
And who wants to lead a life like that?

Then my mama
Who seemed to be fed up
With knowing all these holy men
Who couldn’t live straight
Or control their tempers
Said that all those men had been
Pressing on her and shaken her down
For too long
And cuz they had given so much
To the devil anyhow
That it seemed perfectly right
For her just to run them all over

She didn’t do it
Cuz she herself
Had given too much to the lord

But that just goes to show you
The mighty power of a sermon

Dreams

Dreams

When you’re at your most vulnerable, do you find yourself in places that you once knew?
The places you feel like you spent your whole life?
Last night I found myself on Plaina Rd. Looking at the old forgotten rocks that my father placed for desert decoration and running across my old forgotten driveway. It was a simple enough setting. I can’t remember where I was going or who I was with, but I remember when she showed up. Her hair bleached once again, short enough to touch her shoulders. Wearing that green coat she always wore with the furry hood, a somewhat cheap looking edition. She wasn’t the girl I remembered, but she was the one I saw in pictures back when I was missing her. She walked passed me while I was running and I smiled and turned around in her direction. I always knew she would reject me once again, but I always did it just in case she smiled back and I could see my old friend again. She was walking with someone and didn’t stop to talk, but as I always have done, I ran after. She did smile at me. She always does accidentally and I guess that’s why I never stop coming back. She smiled at my silly remarks despite herself while I chased her down, but when I finally caught up to her she turned around and looked at me solemnly. We were stopped in front of my old wire gate, the one that let into the backyard. Nothing but dirt and a swing set, but somehow lovely all the same. And as I smiled at her, a joke hanging at the corner of my mouth, she turns to me and says, “I’m not yours, Faithe.”
I had always told her she was mine. That my world and everything in it was hers because of it. That it was me and her until the end of forever. We’d fight off the world together, and when she got tired of fighting I’d fight for her. And when she got married, to whatever man she chose, I would regale stories of our adventures, smile and give her away. But she had said it. Finally and completely. Words I always knew, but I filtered out of my reality. She started to turn away again, hands in her pockets, she’d walk into a backyard sunset. But before she turned completely, I spoke out.
“Hey,” my voice rang out, the entire front yard was silent as she looked at me the last time. “I wouldn’t want you to be.”
I was surprised at how much truth reverberated in it. I was surprised at my own calm at her words, but I had let her go a long time before and had just never said it. There was a lot of pain I could remember but none of it was present then. I rather her be happy away from me. I rather she love her life in the way she pleases. I rather she feel that love I had always given from the person she wishes it from. I rather let her be ok so I can be ok too.

That Girl

That Girl

I heard she’s beautiful, but distant
I heard she’s everything you’d want a person to be
She’s just not the person you’d want to be it.
I heard that girl is miraculous
They say she may not be who you’d want to be with
But she’s also not the person who’d really notice.
That you thought that way
I heard that loving her was difficult to do
You’d always think more of her than she thought of you
And she’d always see more in you than you ever dared to
So not loving her? Well, that was hard too.
They say that girl is hard not to notice
They say she walks through the room with a type of elegance
They say her presence is as loud as her laugh
That everyone smiles when she walks passed
Because they feel happiness before they see it
They say that girl lives her life out loud
They say her sense of purpose is so clear that when she walks in a crowd
People notice.
I heard people look at that girl with admiration
They say she has no need for external validation
That everything she does seems to exceed their expectations
of what they thought she’d be
And all of that has always fascinated me
How jealous I am of that girl!

All the me’s

All the me’s

All the me’s

I’m supposed to be

Kinda seem weird to me?

Like they don’t fit well
Or match properly
Like I’m a great black sheep
Amidst the crowded white wool
of my own life

Or a pair of tight fitted jeans
That look great on your thighs
And make your calves look phenomenal
But you can’t quite fit your butt into?

Like I stick myself in each situation
To try and alleviate all this internal tension
Caused by the images put before me
That squish me, and tug me, and try to tear me
Into
Too many pieces
For me to be comfortable
Completely Immobile

They all say what my parents used to say
If you’re gonna do anything
Then goddamn it
you do it all the way

If you’re gonna like this
then you must be that
And if you’re gonna be this
Then you’ve gotta do that

You have to choose who you are
And contort to that image
The middle ground doesn’t exist
There are no lines for you to balance upon
We do not negotiate
With potential threats
To our lifestyle

An androgynous woman is only well liked
On billboards
Magazine covers
And as the occasional hot silent sidekick
In action films

If I diverge from the crowd
I may become admirable
But am somehow now also
less accessible

Being odd makes you interesting
But it does not make you more liked
You may be easier to look at
But you’re somehow harder to talk to

But if I try
to be one of your
badly snipped strung out paper cutouts
We’ll both know I don’t belong there

There’s something about my presence?
Maybe?
It may be a bit of badly hidden disinterest
That’ll make you dislike me
Or maybe you see me struggling
To be seen simply
And it simply makes you uncomfortable
But I already hate conformity
However comfortable people say it should be
So does it matter?

You say it’s because I’m meant for something great
I say it’s because I’m meant for something normal
But great to you
Because it seems like an off beaten path
It feels like a fight for acceptance
It looks like something that makes you uneasy

But understand
That to me
It simply feels like normalcy
Because I can’t quite be
Anything else