He Is a State of Mind

He raises his right hand and directs it to his sweat covered forehead. He stands tall with his feet welded together

at the ankle. His muscles are tense and determined to execute any command given by his exterior authorities. He

remembers when life was not so strict, so contained within boundaries. He use to play. His life was an early

morning to make the school bell and the rest was enjoyment. His witty actions and entertaining sounds

accompanied by less amusing actions (to the girls anyway), would leave him satisfied. Every day was a new day.

When one is so young, everyday holds mysteries that must be unlocked, discovered and understood. Everyday he

could learn, everyday he was finding new ways to define himself - but only today is he truly deciding what he

believes himself to be. All the adventures he journeyed in grade school he is now discarding and accepting - he

discovering who he is at this moment.

He obeys his command 'at ease' and makes his way to his cot in the less than glamorous cabin. He unbuttons his

coat, removes his leather black boots and lays on his impeccably made bed. He thinks. When he was young he was

never alloted time, there was never a schedule of how to spend his time. He'd always have tasks to complete but

rarely were these tasks given with a strict way of completing them. The freedom he had is lost. Now he fights for

freedom. He does not regret his choice but sulks for a moment in the idea of having kept his young spirit of

recklessness and easy laughter. But what he did has now been seen by everyone - their is no more discovery for

him. He must now obey his boundaries and be satisfied with remembering how life once use to be.

He decides that he has not evolved from boy to man, instead he is boy or man depending on his state of mind.

Given In

Mother, ground me for my thoughts. Take me into solitary - diagnose my insanity. Punish me for the pain no one can see. Give me a physical alternative to this human gift - the ability to think. Let everyone witness my hurt. Let others acknowledge me in physical pain and let me be convinced it is my tortured mind they see. Mother tie my scarred wrists and weakened ankles with cloth, fabricated of white purity. Let them see the contrast as it irritates my skin - the sheet which disguises my sins.
"Can't you see mother?
Can't you hear the screeching going on in my head?
Don't you hear them mother!? Don't you hear them yelling at one another?!
Dozens of personalities competing for a body to enact, to fulfill their unreasonable and selfish desires."

"Mother can't you see...
I'm no longer me..."

What keeps you adrift?

The morning dawns and the adventures of the day await him. He instinctually drops himself into the arms of the atmosphere. He does not question whether his wings will keep him adrift and without a thought he trusts that nature’s gift will keep true its commitment to him. His ability to fly has become an unconscious act. He does not know why or how he flies but only that he flies whenever the circumstances bid him to. What will happen when this butterfly realizes that his wings have limits or that they are not as beautiful as the others’? Given the ability to think, how will he react to the knowledge of his flaws? Will he continue to fly with confidence knowing that he is imperfect or bid his wings to retire?

The Diary of the Unspoken: Day 2

She doesn’t understand why she still feels for this man.

She had once ‘fallin’ in love’ with a man, many years ago. But she no longer cares for that man. His time has run out, the feeling will never return. But this man, that she spend her time with on rare occasions – one night of undeniable bliss. Unforgettable delight. Why has he abandoned her? Left her to wonder what went wrong, how things could have turned out different? But as she continues to replay the night within her mind she is convinced that nothing went wrong, there was nothing she would change, nothing she regretted. And yet there was nothing made of this unforgettable night. She fears that because there is no future she may forget with the time and the tedious tasks that everyday brings.

She is confused. What is it that keeps us attached? She asks herself. She would have answered routine at one point and maybe even love, but she is unsure now. He wasn’t a routine, nor did she love him, then why is it that she lays in her darkened room and wonder what could’ve been? Why is he bringing her to delirious emotions, deepened like the buttons of a tufted sofa.

He lives so close to her, she imagines him right by her side – but he is far and indistinguishable.

…

Fuck him. Fuck everything about him, his desirability, his mystery, his stupidity and unpredictability. Fuck him. I just don’t understand. Let me understand, help me. I drink bottles of wine hoping to come to some realization, to figure out something I have missed all along – I figure out nothing but instead reassure myself that I’ve fallen head over heals for you. I think we could have learned so much together, experienced so much – but our time was cut short because of you. I’m sure there is a good explanation – or at least I hope there is one.

God! I want to understand. My heart has never really been broken, even in situation I though that it would – it held strong. The feeling mustn’t have been there all along I guess. But my feelings have been hurt, for whatever reason. Just knowing that you could have hurt me, doesn’t make you feel anything? Not the need to explain? The need to make it up? Anything?

How are you so satisfied one moment and then not the next? How do you make me feel like the only one and then take it away so selfishly? Why have you but me in this position, a seat in a dark room filled with contemporary rhythm?

I want to leave both feet from the ground, while the piano plays a solemn tune, and jump into your arms, safe and guarded – where I’d feel safe and guarded. Where is this peace, this serenity? Where is the place I want to call mine? Why have you taken it from me? Don’t I have a right to it to? Can’t I claim it as well?

My arms are convinced that they must envelop you, contain you – but my mind finds fault in this idea. What will I envelope? A fantasy? A chance that could have been reality? But if it is not reality, then why imagine it? It doesn’t hurt, but it feels empty – my heart. Fuck!

I really thought…. I did…. I really thought… we could be… together finally. But I soar into empty arms with only the obligation to catch me, but not to protect me… and not to…

I’d like to hope for the better but I know that I’d receive nothing that I don’t already have…

Stepwells

I don't have anything to write today but I was












looking through the National Geographic and found these incredible pictures of 'stepwells' in India. They were used ages ago for easy access to groundwater during India's driest months. They are currently being restored. Here are some pictures I found online.

Secret Desires

This is an oldie but a goodie.

To lay a fingertip on unknown flesh,
To feel around with nothing but a need for a sense of relief
Gliding along smoothly, freshly polished marble.
Unique in every way, veins profusely protruding,
so flexible to your touch (musn't be rough or they will hide).
I want to see them, on a white chalkboard,
Drawing me in the right direction. Downward.
To his beating cage. Oh how it beats.
Oh, how mine beats in compliance.
Hormones multiplying. Instinct ridicule morality.
Blood richer, pumping faster.
The chamber of love does not struggle to keep up.
The speed of our bodies.
The need of our bodies.
I no longer want to be deprived of this,
don't tease... please...

The warmth of the sheets is no longer necessary,
as they roll along to the foot of the bed.
Our heat is overwhelming. Heat!
Sweat! Pores no longer resist.
No more resisting... you are my desire!

Bring me home, lie me to sleep.
Tuck me in and thank you for tonight.
No more secrets only fulfilled desires.
To be continued when I awake.

Written Sept. 12 2006

Sounds of a Forbidden World

I just began to write and this is what came out. But i think I might have a good idea here. I think I might use this idea to begin to write a play. I'll keep you informed. Enjoy this for now!

You gaze at the brick wall, fixed a meter from your grid-patterned pane. You hear heavy rain drops, not falling from the sky, but from your neighbour’s large peach tree to your far left. The water drops of rain, fall (if you prefer). The crimson coloured bricks glisten ever so slightly from the few rays of the fading sunlight that victoriously made it through the thick overcast clouds. You hear an electric saw in the distance and for some reason it brings you pleasure and relief. There are others beyond this place. Instantly you turn your head and hear an enraged male voice off to your right. You stare passively at the brick wall while your energy and mind work to figure out what he yells about or who he yells at. Could be anyone you decide – a disobedient child pedaling to quickly and gaining to much distance; a woman who brings to light a discussion which should have left to be discussed in the security of his home; a stranger who so aggressively collides his shoulder and deserves nothing more than a foreign curse. You hear nothing for a long moment and decide that it was just another moment of frustration that is so easily disregarded. You sit. You jolt back to the pane and listen. A screeching car makes its way east to your left. You picture a young boy sitting in the driver’s seat holding a lit cigarette, leaning towards the door, cap pulled low. He doesn’t slow down for the warning speed bumps and you hear the scratch of metal on the wet concrete floor. Another car is turned on; it must have been parked along the road you have never seen before. It drives off. You wait another moment for another intriguing sound that will help you to define the work beyond the brick wall, but you hear nothing. You sit and wait as you have been doing for eternity, it seems. You hear a plane, stand, stare, listen until all has gone quiet and sit again. This routine has become your only stories, your only knowledge of what was so generously given and harshly taken away. The world has become a brick wall and sometimes, water drops of rain.

One Lane Dash (Pt.1)

She stands outside the station and takes a few puffs of her last cigarette. She observes the smoke as she exhales and smiles at the pink lipstick residue. Underneath a building overhang she reaches into her red quilted purse and retrieves her cell phone. She stares at it. Take another drag. And unlocks the keypad. 'Create new message'.
She knows she shouldn't put any more effort into him, she'll, once again, be left hanging on the side of a cliff, awaiting her arm to grow numb and strength to drain her hope. But she writes anyway.
'Why haven't you called or texted? And please don't ignore this message,' she writes as a last attempt to convince him to say something, 'Be honest'. Send.
She stares at the spinning letter and takes another drag of her dependable other, 'message sent'.
She doesn't understand why things that can be so simply resolved, so simply defined, are so hard to say and make definite. She wants to believe that he is just confused, scared and isn't sure what to say because of the obligations which may ensue. She wants to believe this. She sees no other appropriate explanation for just leaving her. Weeks before she had spend the most memorable and satisfying night with him, filled with affection and undeniable connection. How could he pretend there was nothing there?
She realizes this isn't the first time things have come to be this way. Time and time again she is taken for granted and left to stand alone on the city streets watching others say their loving goodbyes until tomorrow. She knows that she must change the way she views herself and the ways in which relationships must begin. She doesn't know whether to give it all at once - her trust, her affection, her time and her love. If one wants to give this all to him, should one schedule it so that no one is overwhelmed? Should one put her feelings on hold until the next hurdle arrives? Are relationships tracks which we run, racing to finish the next lap, to make another move, reveal another piece of ourselves? So when do we stop running?
She figures this is her last lap, she's reaching the finish line awaiting the prize to come into sight. What will it be, an empty victory or arms spread open allowing her into his life?
She arrives home an hour later - no reply. Zero messages.

"Tell me what this restlessness is.

Tell me how much longer it will last

Or how I can get it to stop."

I'm Yours by Jason Mraz

Here are the lyrics to Jason Mraz's new song 'I'm Yours'.

Well you done done me and you bet I felt it
I tried to be chill but you're so hot that I melted
I fell right through the cracks
And now I'm trying to get back
Before the cool done run out
I'll be giving it my bestest
Nothing's going to stop me but divine intervention
I reckon it's again my turn to win some or learn some

I won't hesitate no more, no more
It cannot wait, I'm yours

Well open up your mind and see like me
Open up your plans and damn you're free
Look into your heart and you'll find love love love
Listen to the music of the moment people dance and sing
We're just one big family.
It's your God-forsaken right to be loved love loved love love

So I won't hesitate no more, no more
It cannot wait I'm sure
There's no need to complicate
Our time is short
This is our fate, I'm yours

I've been spending way too long checking my tongue in the mirror
And bending over backwards just to try to see it clearer
But my breath fogged up the glass
And so I drew a new face and laughed
I guess what I'm saying is there ain't no better reason
To rid yourself of vanity and just go with the seasons
It's what we aim to do
Our name is our virtue

I won't hesitate no more, no more
It cannot wait I'm sure
There's no need to complicate
Our time is short
This is our fate, I'm yours

Well no no, well open up your mind and see like me
Open up your plans and damn you're free
Look into your heart and you'll find love love love love
Listen to the music of the moment come and dance with me
I like one big family (2nd time: I like happy family)
It's your God-forsaken right to be loved love love love

I won't hesitate no more
Oh no more no more no more
It's your God-forsaken right to be loved, I'm sure
There's no need to complicate
Our time is short
This is our fate, I'm yours

No I won't hesitate no more, no more
This cannot wait I'm sure
There's no need to complicate
Our time is short
This is our fate, I'm yours, I'm yours