Muse Of My Heart

the radio had been playing all night long, you closed the door on me and went back inside. I leaned my head back and just pretended, cause you were busy smiling. With my head against the car seat, I pretended you opened my door, You whispered in my ear a song you would rather like to hear and you lifted me away into a rough version of a waltz. We slow danced on the corner while the half moon was high and orion was straightening his belt. You said this is what you knew I would look like in the moonlight. I said you were beautiful  and I would dance all night just with you in my eyes. Then you held me close and hummed the notes, to a song I couldn't quite place. She ran a red light I woke with a fright realizing it was all a dream. "Next time" I said, Alone in my head, "Next time you will dance with me."

You see its too much to ask for. Seven times seven is forgiveness and a dusty bookshelf cannot hold my heart half as well as you can. It can't be a substitute for the smoke you've been inhaling. I am learning to heal others and myself. If my advice could only reach beyond truth telling and on to true actions. We all give ourselves very good advice, but even before we give it we know we would never have followed it in the first place. It is funny to see people weak over failed plans, makes me chuckley. You are a fool if you believe what you want to happen to be exactly possible. Instead of giving up all hope, however, simply think of what small difference in your plan could be made to give you options and therefore possibility. Yes, I did use the word chuckley.

I will go again to that place you know of so well, that dark place. I cannot take you from it, but i suffer it because of you. Dare me and I drink well of it. Pretend you do it for my own good and I will eat of it. Darkness does not consume me, as it does you. I consume darkness for my fate lies along the ley of yours. Darkness subtle and a thickening mucous which spreads and spread into every place left wrenched of it's inhabitants. The holes in the late comforting places of my mind, are now filled with sleeping blackness where hope once napped for the infinite universe to awaken her yet. But the leaves fall still, never frozen again, never a moment will pass as was passed. Hope will rest eternally for mine is lost.

I want them so much it hurts... I want so much I hate myself for being to ignorant for being so selfish for being so childish for caring. I propose I sellout... be a teacher, make enough money to be a good housewife, push out some spawn and be adorable... Start a drinking habit and become addicted to so form of arts and crafts... What I want, what I have always wanted out of life cannot be possible unless I man up and grow a pair... Of wings, of course.

But the mailman forgot to put the flag up... "- and thats just how i feel. I am sorry. You will find that special place you belong." Yeah, that fucker ended the letter exactly like that. The sad thing is the only part of all of this that I could take away was how horrible his grammar was and how much better I became at spelling...

pain between my ribs pushing and crushing and crunching and hurting pain that sears pain that festers there is a pain and something leaking out i cannot contain it it holds me it fuels me it binds me to heaven and earth to this universe that has destroyed me and birthed me again so many times i cannot contain my pain it leaks it leaks out and it will spread if i do not contain it if i do not let if hurt me from in between my ribs it separates in a way no other thing can it is all i can do to keep from flying into a million different pieces inspiring is demise and pain is not demise it is only the beginnings it is only the promise of pain to come and demise to be coveted as a finish line from one cup of coffee to the next from one hole to be filled to the next it is a rasping and a coughing pain it is a clawing and a chaffing pain it is a twisting and a pain that i selfishly divulge to myself and myself alone i cannot see it i cannot nor can i hear it but i can taste it in my mouth wet ...

I have this huge expectation for the world, an expectation that has failed so many times. So why is it still there. I don't know. I can't have it every way. I never could. Who was I kidding. I used to be the happiest person I knew. Nothing can phase me and I can survive anything. There is always worse. So why, if I know this have I been breaking down every other day? I could put a label on it...But non of my usual tendencies fit. I am either a malcontent or... something is even more askew than I know how to fix. I used to fit. I want to fit again. Why can't I just fit where, when and how I want to? I have freedom. What more could I ask for? I have happiness. What more could I ask for? Why does it not show that I am more appreciative than ever?  I give and the world gives back. The universe always reciprocates. I try to reciprocate. I have nothing to offer