harlequin

save me from the dark emotions
save me from that which i invoke
we don't care about
each other
any more

.i give you sage advice
stay away
save you from that which needs saving

I am hurting and I don't know what to do.

doldrums

suspension in quietude
aggravated injuries reminding me
it wasn't meant to be rude
this silence wasn't meant for you

i break you open now
to shake those webs from your eyes
though you come closer now
you'll never reach this place in time
if i could show you how
but no, i wont take that away from you
i've lost myself in this sleep
these visions weren't meant for you
these visions weren't meant for you

my lips arrested
your eyes averted, reminding me
i've lost myself in this sleep
these visions weren't meant for you

we've taken our steps in circles
oh, but this quiet must be too much for you
we're making trails of infinity
your words are not enough for me
these visions are not yours to see

I wonder if he thinks of me.

I am known to be too introspective, I am known to cling to my past.

Sometimes I think I immerse myself in my memories because I'm too afraid to make new ones. I've never really let go of my love affair with the extremes of emotions. Isn't it funny that a single memory of pain stays with you stronger(and so much longer) than a memory of utter(blissful!) joy? Or maybe it only does so with some people.

If I could live in my dreams.

The disillusionment and scattered scenarios that play out in my dreams are my guilty pleasure. As much as they hurt me, I can't help but be enchanted with the dark worlds and lives created by my head.

And only while sleeping can I still hold things to me and not feel ashamed.

When you sleep for a long time and have a myriad of dreams, do you wake up feeling confused? I do.

It seems I can't concentrate on the little things I always do online at all right now. I pause in the middle and start thinking over things that should, by now, be very well thought over. And then I get to thinking, what should I do about it? If it's just a feeling and not a need, then I don't really need to do anything but let it pass.

My body is cold and aching.

I have been having very emotional dreams lately. This bothers me. A lot.

They involve things of the past and people of the past. They involve tears, secrets, and the occasional death.

I would get into this more but sometimes I can't speak of these things. I really wish I could.

I wrote something a bit ago. I'm not sure exactly what I was going for but the first line ran through my head and I went with it. I don't think I like the direction it took, but it's a little quirky anyway.

Hello, it's been such a foreign tumble
it seems I have forgotten your name
I remember you, of course
the glint and glitter in your sly hello
the shock upon finding you again
I tread lightly now
while feigning my memories
I walk softly now
As I meet your hand with mine
Since it's been such a foreign tumble
And I've forgotten your name
If I introduce my friend to you
Will you tell her who you are?
Hello, this is my friend Desdemona.

Yeah.. I really dislike the lines, "..the shock upon.." and then, "..while feigning..". Also I don't like how I ended it but I couldn't think of how to introduce myself as the friend without saying, I'm introducing myself as the friend. So I used one of my "names". Eh. I dislike it. Should I attempt a re-write?

hello
it's been such a foreign tumble
it seems I've forgotten your name
I remember you, of course
the glint and glitter in your sly hello
the way you stole into my mind
I tread lightly now
while feigning ever knowing you at all
I walk softly now
As I meet your hand with mine
Since it's been such a foreign tumble
And I've forgotten your name
If I introduce myself to you
Will you tell me who you are?

I think the whole thing just got more vague, but I like it better.

plus, bonus scribbles:
1.
the blustering winds
knock-knocking at my door
and somehow i hope it's you
and not that which blows you away
--------------------------------
2.
And as I squeeze this death blood from myself
I think of her,
And turn away.

I'm glad I have this journal. I realize that this poem could be grossly misunderstood and I also realize that it is very close to my heart (and stored near my box of secret thoughts(figuratively)). Ah well.

P.S. I only got three hours of sleep yesterday from 9:30am till 12:30pm and then I caught a 40min-1hr nap at patrick's around 9ishpm. I really wish I could get to sleep but I can't.

i once knew a boy
who stood outside my window
with burrs in his broken shoes
with his dirty hair tangled
(he) stood in the rain
and sat upon the stairs
never mine, but always finding me
and stars, he said, in my eyes
(he) waited patiently
on steps that only we knew
and watched me, scared,
as the boys would march on by
(and he) would take me to the sea
his heart closed until i shyly
asked him out to play
and now they've gone away.

they all found stars in my words, they said,
calling from my eyes,
hidden in my name.

see, i have a bit of each of them
those broken boys
i've brought them all with me
i want to leave them all behind
save for one who waited
in truth, they all waited.
(are waiting?)
i knew a boy,
and they all hold me, too.

So. Yeah. Originally I had a title for the poem but I scrapped it after I wrote the poem because it really didn't make sense anymore. This poem is obviously about more than one person, and at least to me it's pretty obvious how many and who these people are. And the ending is open to speculation because I don't really feel like explaining it. Yeah. OKay. Bye.

Things on my desk:

Empty can of cherry pepsi. I doubt it was mine.
A broken yoyo.
A postcard with a geisha on a scooter.
Empty pack of cigarettes.
Harlequin patterned ashtray with.. at least 15 butts in it.
Korean jacks.
Incense.
Capo.
Taxi pencil.
A bandaid, unopened.
A bottlecap.

I don't really have much to say. I'm feeling blank. I've been having odd dreams. Like Patrick not turning on the headlights. Going through the fog. Crashing the car. Like, an alien invasion. Like, meeting my first boyfriend at school. Falling for him. I've probably had that dream about 10 times. Like camp. I have lots of camp dreams. I dream about mountains. I dream about things breaking, and me dying.

I'm feeling very blank right now. Right now right now. I have an echo in my mind.

Something I miss:
feeling thunderously creative.

I just finished re-reading a book (Lilith, J.R Salamanca).
Train of thought.

...could be so damaged as to create a highly delusional, however technically perfect, reality for herself... ..that could be, for all we know, a better reality than true reality.. and the color violet.

And then it makes me think of one of the only true wishes I can remember having.

To be blazingly wonderful, and new. To be fantastically passionate and mad. To the point beyond understanding. To the point beyond the need to be understood. To the point where I could be left alone and it would not affect me. It would not be lonliness. And, to be able to create, give birth to, make manifest. And not only be manipulating something already existing.

Alas.

Since I already updated thrice on pseudocide, SWITCH.

I'm waiting for Stuart to come over so we can go get coffee with Patrick.

I want to bleeacchhh myyy haaiiirr and dye it pretty colors. I miss pretty colors. Whats the point of growing out your hair so it'll "heal" when I cut it? Expect changes soon.

Thinking about relationships in general:
Now that I'm in what would be seen as a stable relationship, seeing other relationships are at times confusing and at others I feel jealous. Now I know it isn't odd to say that I may at times miss beginning a relationship. Is that why in middle school I would hop from one "boyfriend" to another? Can you forget the thrill? The high pulse, the jolt in your stomach, the hot cheeks. Stepping around lightly while feeling out the situation. Feeling THRILLED when you knew the person wanted to be with you too. In high school I had.. hm.. 4 relationships. One was barely one that could give a thrill, considering I never really spent time with that person until after I realized the relationship was a mistake. Hell, once I met that person I knew that it was mistake. Eh.. I digress. In high school my relationships were so emotionally charged (because I was so emotionally charged) I never really had a chance to get bored. This thought is jumping back and forth, bear with me. Eh.. Other relationships CONFUSE me because obviously, I don't know what these people are thinking. I DON'T KNOW IF THEY ARE THINKING. I can guess, I can assume, but sometimes it just doesn't make any sense to me. I know I once did this or that, but now that I'm older/wiser??? I can't see myself doing it again. So, sure it confuses me. As this paragraph must confuse you. I think I've lost my train of thought, but thats okay. That is what this is for.

Oh wait! the point was that... sometimes I get bored.

BUT!

I know that that's okay now.

My foot is asleep.

Stuart will be leaving for San Diego soon. Sad, I shall miss him. He thinks I should come visit him sometimes. I'm going to the kegger that his roomates are having on the.. uh... 17th! You think a week and a half is long enough to get used to driving so I can make the drive to San Diego? I hope so!

On driving:
I hate it! I despise it! I think it's lame and I would much rather be chauffered around for the rest of my life. Things that make me nervous about it: Stuart says I don't know where the front of my car is. AND I DON'T! Both the instructor and Stuart say I follow cars too closely, AND I DO! plus a zillion other tiny things that I'm TRYING to work on. But I hate driving. I already knew I'd dislike it. I never wanted to learn how to drive because a car is too much.. mass for me to handle. I'm guilty of owning a car. A lot of people can't afford one. I don't even want to drive but I have one. I'm sorry. I hate my instructor's car. My car is much better. My car is so pretty. MY CAR. blegh.

On, and on and on.

Jumping from journal to journal I found:

I used to really love this poem when I was in middle school. I didn't know who it was by. I forgot about it, somehow. It used to be in my profile back in the day. I stumbled upon Jenny Su's journal and discovered the poem was by Pablo Neruda. Weeiirrdd. The only thing that was really odd was that it wasn't the same translation that I used to have. This is the version I remember:

Love Sonnet XVII
by Pablo Neruda

I don't love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as certain dark things are loved,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that doesn't bloom and carries
hidden within itself the light of those flowers,
and thanks to your love, darkly in my body
lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you simply, without problems or pride:
I love you in this way because I don't know any other way of loving

but this, in which there is no I or you,
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close.

Posting it as a remembrance.

Well. Mr. Or Mrs. livejournal posting box. You ask for an event? I'll give you an event.


How eventful! I type and type on these click sound making keys. And when I press the keys.. LETTERS APPEAR ON THE SCREEN! Excellent.

I'm feeling pretty much dazed right now. My body doesn't know if I should sleep or if I should stay up. I got 5 and a half hours of sleep after not sleeping for 30. I woke up around 2, and its half past 6. I know I want to sleep but I keep thinking about random things. Eyelid surgery. Foot surgery? Hair cut. Hair color? My nails need doing. I need to go to the orthodontist. And then again to the dentist. I need to drive. My brother is leaving in a few days with his girlfriend. Need to go buy books for school. Contact someone from ex?work. Get in contact with Josh and or Savannah. Meet up with Sarah? Watching Zatoichi today? Will I get my hair cut today? Call driving instructor. Make sure Patrick mails things. I miss video games and anime. What happened with A----? And R and Mim? Mim! Does she think I dislike her? I haven't spoken to her in a while.

I'm silly with my thoughts. Friendship and relationships between people are so.. amusing? Amusing in that observing myself react to the rest of the world is just so funny, now that I know myself more. Funny in a sad way. Not haha. Ha Ha ha.

tripping on the slick expanse
gripping his clammy hand, i glance
the lights fantastic, contrived red dusted crystal
glowing tall and proud, glowing small and desparate
casting fractured bloodflake beams onto the liquid glass
i stopped him when i had a chance
i spoke to him with a voice of cashmere pleading
//where are:we going::you taking me::the people:://
\\and why isn't there:anything beneath the glass:\\
these words tumbled without me knowing them
looking down, there isn't anything beneath the glass
looking up.Oh. He's looking at me
careful, measured, demure.
He opens his mouth and I'm devoured.
in him now, i look down with his eyes
and see a blood tinted I, looking back up
Ah, tripping on the slick expanse
I hold all four hands
sense all ten to sense
with four bright eyes, and one blind
He counts himself as he steps
tripping through a divided dance, with me
as I and I dance
I open all four ears for the beat, the pulse, the strings
tripping on the slick expanse
with no one but myself to keep me company
the only sound my feet shuffling
muffled on bloodflaked glass
I and I am my only music
\\where are::the people\\
//''Don't you understand? All of this is you.''//

So the lines of one of Harlequin Red's songs come to mind for some reason.

"And the sands of time are falling
Silent as the dead man's song
And you pulled me in with you
Whisper, you belong to me"

I'm not sure exactly why they popped into my head right now. Maybe for the sheer melody of the song? I feel so fucking exhausted right now but I have an urge.

masquerade and spinning tops
circle circus certain times
she falters, follows, beckons, dies.
crawling through the underbrush
knees a mess and she's a mess
the half light, a harsh light
ripping through...
blood covered glass covering dead skin, dead leaves
dust and dead leaves for her home
and she bleeds to make the oak tree grow.
masquerade and spinning tops
gauze and lace upon her face
with one touch, red silk upon your fingers.
red silk upon your lips.

And I felt no guilt. And I ran free. And I woke up. And I...

I'm so dazed right now. I want to talk someone, but I can't. It's already too late. I'm not sure exactly what I'm doing. It almost feels right. Right in the way that there is a catch. And on and on.

I'm too dazed. I have nothing more to say.

I need a good cry.

Do they see it? All the people who once comforted me. The people I would go to. I need something, and the only thing that is filling this need is valium, weed, alcohol, cigarettes. Everything I despise. I really do. Then why do I do it? I don't know if anyone can believe me. I'm trying to stay sane.

If you could take a peak inside, you'd see. I'm starting to fall again. I can't let myself. I've found the only way to keep myself from my emotions and whatever else takes over me is to escape. I just need this to tide me over, until I can walk down the street without wanting to scream. I see people everyday and I just want to slit throats. I see myself in the mirror and I want to smash my face until the glass breaks. I want to be as disfigured physically as I feel inside. I thought things were looking up. I'm getting my life together, driving, school, notary, a job. I'm reaching and am taking these things. The things that will keep me occupied untila hopefully peaceful life. A natural death.

This panic is filling me. All the feelins are emerging. 'Cept this time my mind is clear and I can watch myself falling. And now that I can see it happening and see the stages, I swear to prevent it. The only thing I've found so far is to abuse and substance in my reach. I hate them. I hate these things I've been depending on. Only, I'm so scared that if I let myself be sober.. all the things I'm trying to get away from: the masochism, the suicidal tendencies, the need to hurt myself and other people... I'm so afraid that it's coming back. I mean, I can SEE it coming back. I can feel it. I'm clawing at it. I look in the mirror and my reflection is a lie. The only truth I see in the mirror is the glint in my eye. The glint of all the torrents sneaking through. I've never been so scared in my life. I have to keep myself under control. I have to make it through this and do all the things I've been planning on. School, work, whatever. I NEED to follow through. For myself. If I don't.. then all the idle time will have my emotions jumping.

Please, let me abuse whatever fuck I need to.. Just for now. I need it or I'll go insane. I need it or I'll end up where I was headed years ago. I'll end up in a hospital bed, life support. I'll end up in jail. I'll end up locked up with restraints. Oh god, I see it coming and it's scary. I'll end up dead.

Let me do this for now. Please. It's the only way to keep the emotions from breaking through. It's the only way to keep her, the other part of me, away.

I need to stay sane.

I, I, I.

I'm so scared.

Oh, the wishes that came so clear. And stingy stingy candy giver. And masochism intrigue. And leaving before you can get a word edgeways. You find that nothing is to be said and awkward silences are filled with uneasy laughter. And and and.

I, I, I. I wish.

When I had so many things to say.

I tried a new vice cocktail. Tailspin. Headspin. And I, I, I am gone. Anytime soon. Join me.

4. four. IV. etc.

1, one, I, is earth-shattering. Was. Is over. Done. One misunderstood.

2, two, II, is hushed, closed,. Forgotten, tryst, pushed away. Stored away.

3, three, III, is lost. Hopeful. I stir the ashes. I turn it over. I, I, I.

4, four, IV, born of one. It burned and now it fades and settles.


1, 2, 3, 4.

I stir the ashes.
1.2.3.4
4. Is this the end?
3. whisper, stir.
2. hush.
1. goodbye.

And after so many dry notes and words passing by.. one song will just stick. It always does.

And it makes you feel. Think. Think. And everything comes up again, fractured and broken. To be taken up again. Could you take it up again? And like my dreams the words he'll give me are sweet to the point of distraction. I want every one. Every small word I can take, because this is what I've been wanting. With the needles in the background and the nails coming towards me this is what I wanted. Right?

And what can I do to make things just a little clearer? For everyone involved? Nothing. I asked for it. I built it. I made this. Every word and turn and silence and touch. I made it. Nothing.

A whisper of what was, me banging my head. Me, raging.

If I could just hold on. If I could just be filled. If I could just forget.

But I have so many things I need to do. I'm supposed to do. I don't want them. I know what I want. I know why I can't have it.

Crash into my arms.