Sand Trap.

I try to remember the little things that made up the reasons behind my affection.
Try to push back all the bullshit that has covered them.

Do you remember being little? Digging in the sand?
Do you remember thinking "if I keep digging..eventually I will get to the bottom"
After a while it didn't matter if what you were digging to reach for was good or bad..you just wanted to get to the bottom of it.

It's like that with him.

I dig and dig.I keep diging.Trying to find something.Anything.
Some treasure lost within this abyss.
For the life of me,I cannot find one single thing.
Anything that would have made this whole thing relevant.

It doesn't matter how that every time I saw him,He looked better than the time before.
It doesn't matter that he had a million little nicknames for me.
It doesn't matter that his hands would tremble when they would reach out for me.
No.
These things mean nothing.
They are broken peices of things that could have been valuable.
So withered and washed and weathered...
There's no way to peice them together to even try and make a whole.
There's no way to take them and try and make something worth while.

Are we really that jaded?
Can the heart make you see something that is not there..becuse it longs for love?
When does reality set in and set you straight?
2 years later...when it's almost too late?


(Wrote this back in Janruary...)

Inquisition.

Wating.




The Art.The Practice.The Way.

just how long can you hold out?




Nights spent within 4 walls.Thoughts boucning,collecting.Rictoching.

Thoughts piling.Each bounce becoming a bigger ball.

Each thought a colored rubber band.

Each complication tangling,making it larger.


With every waver in your tone.

With every missdirection in your so normal step.

With every difference,I am convincing myself of your inquisition.


your secrets.

your lies.



I wacth the minutes pass on the wall clock.
I wacth them pass on the tv.


I try and distract myself til I know something else.

I try and ignore the feeling in my gut.

I try and ignore my phone.

Sitting in its place.

Nothing new.




I've spent so many nights this way.

For so many years.




Tell me.


Has nothing changed?



Or have I just gone temporarily mad?

Drowning.

"Look! I'm flyinggggg"

"Whats the point in wearing the jacket if its not keeping you warm?"

"Sometimes I just like to feel the wind."


Rain.

hits the winsheild of your car.

I can feel it on my skin.

The smell of metal.

Cold.

wet.



"....did I cater to all your needs?"




And I find myself

hydroplanning

pavement

Wondering to myself...

just what the fuck am I doing?


And I wonder why you havent called.

and I wonder why you haven't written.

And I wonder why I couldn't have just followed you inside tonight.

Because I need nothing more than to feel like I belong to someone

Even if it isn't true.

And I need nothing more than to know that someone is lying next to me.

Someone warm.

Someone to take this coldness away.

This cold I have felt since everything escaped me.

right under my feet.




I find myself

Running.

drowining





if only I could run past that door

to somewhere else.

In the sheets.

Turn into the driveway

Parked between 2 white lines.

Stereo still on.Waiting for you to arrive.


Car door opens greeting the cold.

Lungs filled with ice.

TipTap shoes climbing up concrete steps.

Long hallways with cheap green carpet.

"I can never seem to get the door open"

"It's cause you don't have magic fingers"

Set my bag down on the floor.Kick off my shoes.

You turn on the tv.Sit down on the bed.


Ontop of the covers,I press your arms into the matress.

"Go ahead and trrry to beat me.You know you're not strong enough"

"Well,you DO have a good 70 pounds on me.This battle is already unfair."

"Then yooooou should have never challeged me to a wrestling match."

"I like a challenge."

"Do you?"



Under the covers.Your body keeps me warm.

Pulled me close to you.

Head on your chest.

Blue light from the TV illuminates the walls and our skin.



I want to remember you this way.

Reaching out for me.Pulling me close.


The way your arms felt around me.


Waking up in the morning next to your bed head hair.

How my skin felt soft in your tshirt.


Before these moments became memories.

Denials.

Before somehow that part of you got left behind.

Lost in the sheets.

Painted.

" Yeah, but I already know you are insane...."

".. And for some reason, you have not run away.."


You paint my skin
In hues of blue
Purple
And the healing shades of yellow and green.

Each stroke of your brush sends a wave.
I am remined of you until the paint chips away.
But you will be here again.
your brush ready to make a new mark
To remind me of your unspoken words.

Soaked.

(A peice a wrote quite a bit ago.I thought it'd be a good starter entry :p)


Drunk.

2 liters of Bacardi watermelon was our poison tonight.

Poured myself a tall cup.

The boozy taste mingled well with an

Oranage soda and 7 up blend.

My blood was soaked with 70 proof

clear Puerto Rican sugarcane ethanol.

tonight was going to be a good night.

I could feel it in the air.


Stash a pack,out of smokes.


She grabs his hand and they go stumbling into the rain.

Giggling and whispering.

Soaked.Their clothes and shoes.Wet in puddles

And in the rain.

Kisses.Hard on the mouth.

Like this was an everyday occurance.

This was so natural.So normal.


Who would think anything else?

"Why do we have to be drunk every time we do this?"
He asks.

Well...she does it for him..she thought.

It was the only time he'd ever touch her in the past.

only if they had ingested enough vodka to be blind to emotions.


Well....fuck.


Slippery.wet.cold.They head back inside.



No smokes.

That got lost in translation.

Lying in her bed,they take off their wet clothes.

He pulls off her green sweats.

the sweats that used to belong to her ex boyfriend.

This moment defines something much deeper than any of them can imagine at the time.

Soaked.Her hands are covered in the blue dye from his hair.

she needs something..anything,to hold on to.

This really can't be happening.