poison .

i never trusted doctors or technicians
or warning labels on bottles and bottles of arsenic
never trusted your smile

you're a fool to love
but not to say it
because someone somewhere is bound to believe you
and maybe it feels good to make a fool out of someone else
for once

maybe it feels good to drink down
bottles and bottles of arsenic
and not believe the doctors and technicians when they say things like
"you are going to die"

because there's a thing called double jeopardy
and i can't kill twice the fool that already died
the first day i trusted your smile

S.

{Photo: Alessandra Celauro Flickr}

my heart .

you died for real today, my ghost.

you've dropped into a pool of grief that has been building for some time and i'm not quite sure when the dam will break but the water is getting high.

when people ask who hurt me; who made me see the world differently and then left me alone to deal with the view, it was you. i don't tell them, but it was. you did it years ago and you did it today. you showed me how evil life can get, not out of cruelty and not to scare me, just to let me in.

i wish i showed you how far i let you in. you were allowed into places that no one else has come close to touching. i let you in without knowing, yet, that it is from the inside that a heart can be damaged.

i loved you first and i loved you deep.

deeper than i ever let you know and i'm sorry for that — but there are some places even words can't touch, and you lived there. you still do.

you fought and slayed your share of demons, Ben. i hope you've found the rest you always deserved.

love forever,

S.

{Photo: Anthony Delletiglie Flickr}

phantom limb .

i find loss comes the hardest when forgotten 
for a moment, for a time

and then i reach for where you ought to be
with words i ought to say and find you 

nowhere

i can't use fancy words to dress this up
i don't know how
i don't know how


i don't know how

S. 

{Photo: Viola Cangi Flickr}

Astrocytoma .

Iridescent and belonging to all the light  

            of the constellations, 

This was how she used to be –   

            a luminescent contrast to the greytones. 

But there are chemicals taking her now 

            capturing the luster of youth and  

coating her body with a blankness:

            A canvas untouched, 

                                or since faded. 

Her mother remembers her as a flame 

            There’s nothing wrong with being still 

                        she tells herself, 

But she remembers when her girl would leap 

            with all the energy of the sun. 

There is heaviness layered behind 

            pale green eyes 

That sprung up somewhere between 

            test tubes and CAT scans and negative results. 

She can’t fix this. No one is fixing this. 

There is a fault in the framework – 

            they’ve found the problem but not the answers 

So what’s the point in all the dim rooms and 

            holding tight to words like ‘hope’ 

                        if everything perfect fucking dies? 

S. 

{Photo: Jacob Sutton Photography}

claustrophobia .

I never had a problem with tight spaces until I met you. You made my life so goddamn unbreathable. You, with your phone calls and your line of questions. You fired them at me and I didn't have a chance. You placed me in front of my grave and BAM BAM BAM, I'm down, buried under everything I never got to answer because you knew. You already knew. You thought you knew, so you buried me. But you didn't know. And now I'm underground, closed in by particles and dirt, and it's not unlike being with you, because you were like that, so close that I couldn't breathe. So maybe suffocating here is better than in your arms but I don't think so. I think you made yourself insufferable, I think you got so near because you wanted to drive me away, and I think you left me before you let me speak because you did know. You knew, but you needed to pretend that it was me not you who couldn't stand small places. And the thing is that I could, until you shot me down and I got trapped under the weight of everything but your lips. Because I could live with phone calls and lines of questions. It was when they left that I fell into this pit. 

S. 

{Photo: Tamara Lichtenstein Flickr}

solidarity .

no one expects you to survive this
we are all mortal here
[and in the moments you forget, the world
will either seem too big for you
or you will feel bigger than it
and neither one will do you good
or change the fact that]
we are all mortal here.

S. 

{Photo: Margaret Durow Flickr}

my ghost .

I was there when you taught yourself guitar - I listened through basic chords and tireless picking until you got it right. I would climb up after you in the giant tree behind your house - we'd kick at the moss and track the sun through the sky. I answered every time you called in the middle of the night - turning up the radio so my parents couldn't hear. We'd talk for hours, but I can't remember what about. 

I was there when you told me what you did to make it all go away. I cried into my bed that night because you failed, and I couldn't imagine if you hadn't. 

I was the one you called after you broke down. Psychosis. I brought you in a coffee you weren't supposed to have (largewithcreamandsugarplease). I sat with you in white rooms and listened to you explain yourself, but you didn't. 

I came back again, anyways. I brought you coffee again, anyways. 

I came back until one day they told me to stop coming back. You couldn't see me anymore, and I haven't seen you since.

And yet, I still hear your last words, haunting:

"Maybe you have already died. I know I have." 

S.

{Photo: Misshosna Flickr}

live.

we are here
to laugh
at the odds
and  live our lives 
so well that
death
will tremble
to take us

Charles Bukowski

{Photo via: We Heart It}

Happy Valentine's Day

Six hundred and forty fish later, the only thing I know is everything you love will die. The first time you meet someone special, you can count on them one day being dead and in the ground.

Chuck Palahniuk

{Photo: Flickr 「夜。」}  

Flat Lining.

There are worse things than being in love with the wrong one.

(I just haven't felt them yet.)

S.

{Photo: Flickr Mary Robinson}

Choose Love.

In light of this situation, in light of this life, I think it best that we stop and recall the words of Martin Luther King Jr.:

The ultimate weakness of violence is that it is a descending spiral,

begetting the very thing it seeks to destroy.
Instead of diminishing evil, it multiplies it.
Through violence you may murder the liar,
but you cannot murder the lie, nor establish the truth.
Through violence you may murder the hater,
but you do not murder hate.
In fact, violence merely increases hate.
So it goes: Returning violence for violence multiplies violence,
adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars.

Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that.
Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.

I see no good in wishing ill on someone, for that only traps us in our own cycle of hate and darkness. Remember that light and love are the only weapons we have to drive out the blackness that surrounds us; and indeed, that is what we should long for.

Choose love, dear friends, above hate or bitterness or anger. Choose it so that it can become part of your character. Choose it when you are wronged, and when it it the furthest from instinct. Choose it, because it is our only hope now: it is our doorway to forgiveness, and through that door we will find freedom and joy renewed.

I am sorry for everything that has happened; but remember that more pain will neither reverse nor erase the pain already felt. Remember that you have a choice, and then choose love.

S.

Everyone Is Leaving.

I could say something about the smallness and instability of life, but those words are all used up.

I don't understand why these things happen. I don't understand the significance of life. I have yet to determine why I'm here - why anyone's here - and then, all so suddenly, not.

Sometimes I see so much beauty in the day; sometimes I feel as though I'm getting a grasp on meaning and purpose.

Today is not like that. My heart hurts.

XXXX

I'm losing my faith. I can feel it escaping from me with each passing breath.

I've been thinking about human life. What if all we really are is a strange combination of atoms; a brilliant number of chemical reactions; a jumble of neurons, protons and electrons. What if that's all we are and nothing more.

What if they're right and we're meaningless and finite.

I still pray for comfort.

XXXX

I was so close to telling you everything. I haven't figured out if I'm thankful I didn't, or if it was the worst mistake I've made. 

Either way, it ends the same. Either way, we die: dirt and dust.

Sooner than we originally planned for, I think.

S.

--- Sorry, the world is dark today.

For Victor

A boy my age, from my town, died on Thursday. I never knew him; many of my friends did.

Fresh out of high school - so much life in him. Dreams. People that loved him. People that wanted to see him go as far in life as they knew he could. He could.

He won't.

I was - and am - struggling with this. Struggling with God. All of the why's flood into my mind. This was a talented boy, a nice boy. Someone with a good heart, a good family, and good goals. Gone.

It was a car accident that did it. No one else was involved - and I suppose that is something to be thankful for. He went off the road, hitting a tree, and wasn't found for hours. Hours. I wonder if he had been found sooner, if there would have been hope for him. I wonder many things. Who he would have known, where he would have lived, what he would have done with his life. And I don't know, and I won't.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't angry with God about this. Furious.

Why is it fine to save some lives, and then allow others to perish. Why does He get to be so chosey - and why do His choices suck in my eyes?

I am struggling.

I will not say rest in peace Victor. For I hope he does not. That is - I hope he is peaceful. But resting? No. I hope and trust that he is dancing with the angels, and standing in the presence of our God, with no need to rest anymore.

For even though it is a tragedy, it is a tragedy for us. Our loss. We're the ones wishing he could live out all of his dreams, and bring all the joy he could have brought into the world. Him? I am sure he would pick his current position over ours ten times out of ten, despite his earthly goals.

But I pray strength, peace, and acceptance for his family and friends. As well, for my own friends and family. That I would not take my moments with them for granted, because life is shorter than we think, and they deserve my love.

S.