Filed under: Thoughts
I awoke this morning with the taste of salt still heavy on my lips. The amber glow and early morning mist still hung in the sky. I peeked out the screen window and saw you standing in the sand. Your silouette was unfamiliar but so much more comforting than I would have previously imagined. The tide was low and calm, reflecting my demeanor on this serene start.
Filed under: Poetry | Tags: art, dream, emotion, fantasy, farce, feelings, fraud, hate, love, one a day, play, poem, Poetry, rage, thought
I am a Farce.
A Fraud.
A Ball of pretentious emotion
And bottled up rage
Bubbling over
And corroding your counter tops.
I fill in the cracks
And seethe through your silent reading.
I disrupt your train of thought
With my melancholy enchantment.
I am a Farce.
A fanatically inclined
Judgmental narcissist
Neurotic and alone.
I will devour your calm demeanor
And use your playfully chosen words
Against you.
I am not a dream.
I am not a fantasy.
I am a Farce.
Filed under: Everyday Outlet | Tags: agony, art, defeat, life, love, lyrics, Poetry, recycle
How long has it been
My mind tends to forget.
It’s constantly recycling
Remember and regret.
I’ve felt the way you look at me
I’ve seen the way you taste
I’ve heard all of your subtleness
I’ve seen all of your waste
Filed under: Cube Life
When it comes to Monday morning, you need to have a story. Weather it’s about a football game, hike, or trip to the beach that you took, it needs to be soemthing. People always want to know what you did with your weekend, Monday morning standing around waiting for the coffee to brew.
I’ve always been a fan of music in the workplace. Good music, fast music, just about any music…. except country. The best music, space out. The kind that you don’t actually have to listen to. The kind of music that envokes feelings you didn’t know you had or forgot about. Something that takes your mind off of the clickety clack of the keyboard and the hum of florescent lights. I’m prone to Massive Attack and Tricky, and most recently Kanye West and his latest saga of emotion. Poetic in the most depressing way. I’m pretty sure I have been guilty of singing along without a voice thingy. I love it.
So why the long rant on your love of Kanye? You ask…. Cause I don’t have any fucking speakers. They’re in a box and far from bringing me the pleasure that I deserve. Oh how i hate moving. Did I actually hear myself bragging about my new “office”? Maybe. It’s bigger and it has a view, but still no door. The elusive office with a door I have yet to attain. And do i really want it. Do i want to be stuck in an office with a door for the rest of my life? Closing me into a career and keeping me locked out of my dreams. It’s a trap….RUN.
seems like streetlights glowing
happened to be just like moments
passing, in front of me so
i hopped in, the cab and
i paid my fair, see
i know my, destination
but im just not there (Kayne West, Streetlights)
Filed under: Cube Life
It is a fact that 4 out of 5 people you work with have either stolen money from your company, or are actively engaged in having sex with someone else you work with. The longer i work at this soul sucking job, the more dirt i find out about my co-worker. People who i would have thought were modest citizens turn out to be theiving whores. Who can blame them though really. Sex and money rule the world.
It’s moving day today. So we must pack up our tiny spaces and move them to new enclosed places. We took a tour of our new home away from home, and although it was newly painted a neutral shade of tan, the carpet was blue and slightly sparkly, and there were actual walls, it looks the same. And i felt the same. Trapped.
So now we are packing and everyone is franic, as if valuable information could be lost in the process of transitioning from one side of the building to the other. The delicate balance of actual work and play time is the only thing being interrupted for me. With so many big wigs in the area, checking our status, over our shoulders, fake smiling and making small talk, I haven’t had a chance to check MySpace, my bank account, or IM that cute guy in IT.
I feel stagnate and stale
My potential is drifting away like chunks of ice from a glacier.
My keystrokes increase and my creativity dwindles
I’m lifeless, floating from one task to another
And never discovering my voice.
Filed under: Uncategorized
I can’t see because I’m blinded,
By the light, and by the shine.
Can’t see cause I’m reminded,
Of the passion at the time.
The fluffy feathered pillows.
The satin sheet and quilt.
They’re covered in our moisture.
They’re covered in my guilt.
I smiled at you slightly
–You’re eyes burst into flame.
I managed to hold off a bit, before I spoke your name.
I whispered and you heard me
The recognition– turned to fame.
I’m getting very old you know, too late to play this game.
