Wishes (The Grown-Up Version//cliff notes remix) feat. “Us”
To know you
Get to that place
Where no one else can go.
To visit you there
Hold your feelings
Side by side
Fight for our lives.
Be a little less
Empty inside.
Can't cure our broken bits
Will still come up short
As we tally our hits
Wronged by the miss.
But in an instant
Hope finds an instance
Meet your eyes
No words
As our Souls reflect.
My wish
That solid Truth
You have me
And I have you.
Around us
The Universe swarms
Vast is the darkness
Cold and unknown.
But never again
Will we be unfound
And alone.
The places you will go, when you’re left all alone
My heart performs a tune so few may hear,
A quiet violin whispering passionately in the ear.
The trees sing along but even they are distant,
Myself, alone, the only thing that’s consistent.
The piano keys quicken, giving way to the night,
As the stars lay dying, falling from light,
and darkness beckons me forward in fright.
The harp strikes harshly showing all that’s infected,
Harmonizing a tune of what’s self-neglected,
Myself, the cause for what self-abandoning affected.
As the silence falls, encapsulating my soul,
I collapse under the weight of my own black hole.
I try to see the shadows that make me whole,
But with each thump of the bass, my demons rush forward.
Left all alone, panicked, and cornered,
Myself, exposing how I feel tortured.
Deeper I dig into an eternal abyss,
Listening for the lessons of all that‘s amiss.
The symphony mellows, the thundering dismissed.
Myself, the conductor, of all I remiss.
With each epiphany that I unearth,
Alone is the place I learn my worth,
Accept myself, and with it rebirth.
ALONE
There was no breast from which to suckle
There was no hand to pat my back
There was no counting during hide-and-seek
Of playdates and parties I did not speak
There was no aisle to walk down
No hand for me to hold
At breakfast and at super
My heart grew hard and cold
In daylight and in darkness
My own breath sounds filled my ears
At twilight and at sunset
At the solitude I cursed
And when the end of life drew near
Reflection my only goal
I looked in the rearview mirror
Dark and Empty met my eyes
Relationships I had not known
I had wasted all my time
When at the pearly gates I stood
I knocked but no one answered
The Father, Son, and Holy Ghost
Were nowhere to be found
Through eternity I would venture
Unescorted in the clouds
Alone
is deceptive
as that (by-my-self)
is inaccurate
the 'we,' dispossessed
and self, associative
at best ...
my mind's
so far gone
I cannot begin
to say how long
or how come,
save the distance
between my
and self
has become
protracted,
and when it
happened
well
I'd
also like to know
and that thought
will not leave me
(alone)
06.27.2024
Alone challenge @dctezcan
Alone
Alone,
that's all I feel.
An empty pit of loneliness
stretched out before a meal.
Yet,
I cannot eat.
I stare and stare at the delicious feast
but I know it is not for me.
It is for others,
those that have never starved.
Those that live their lives
in the glamour of a bar.
It's not for me,
I tell myself its ok.
It's ok that I can't tell anyone
what I want to say.
Its ok
that my first language doesn't feel like my own,
Its ok
that those who want to hurt me
call me home
Its ok
I can't communicate
without shaking my hands.
Its ok
that I relate to the villain
and never really have a plan.
I hope its ok to be different,
to be lost in a crowd,
to know you're alone
no matter how many people are around.
I hope its ok
to feel what I feel
because I have finally convinced myself
that every single part of it
is real.
The alone nights, seeing things beyond the stars.
The days when I don't want to think about it anymore!
Those times where I don't want anything but to go to bed,
but I sit there
and stare
at a screen
instead......
Those days where I wake up and everything is pain, when I stay silent and just wait for the end of the day. I don't tell a soul, what happens in my mind. All the shattered glass and figments inside. Everything is breaking in the eclipse of time. Moment to moment reality unwinds. Everything dwindles into decline. I sit alone now, as I have many times before. Slowly going insane from the inventions of war.
A|one
Not only,
but Also
We are
all In,
at this
Poker Table.
And point
Blank,
it's all
the Same
Alone
A/one
We are
all assured
the House
will win!
Whoever deals
or what Card
is played,
what extra Ace
is slipped, or
Mortal bet
is placed:
We're all in
till the End
and it's All
the same
One Table
turning, crackling
and All is one
all One and
the same,
a Conjunction
We throw
hands up
or we throw
Our hand in
It's all the Same
It's all and None
Much like
"apart"
but with
earned Scar,
a Slash for where
we Fought,
for a Way
Out from,
Draw back.
A Silent Voice
A silent voice falls on inattentive ears:
Pleas for recognition of her persisting pain.
No one hears her cries,
Though she stands directly before them.
No one notices the crystal tears
Bleeding incessantly out her eyes,
As though a veil has chosen
To eternally enshroud her from existence.
A silent voice calls out to the wind,
Echoing a soundless symphony
Of sharply woven tears.
But only the reflections of her own misery
Echo back to counter her tune,
The winds failing to respond in kind.
A silent voice murmurs a muted prayer
And waits without expectation
For the noiseless abyss to take her in.
But even the insatiable vacuum
Ceases to open its maw in comforting hunger.
And so she withdraws herself into her cocoon
And gently closes her lips:
Perhaps she is inexorably fated
To suffer alone in ceaseless silence.
Alone
Alone? Alone is the bite of fiery tongues upon the pink flesh of intestines. That thing that's defined as "the gut."
Alone is closed doors and closed, shuttered expressions,
Alone is the disdain those stupid idiots don't bother to hide anyway about anything.
About my waist, about my voice, about my likes, about the desire to just... talk. I don't know how, not really.
I just, wanted to say what I liked.
I shouldn't-- I don't deserve to be judged!
I'm not wrong.
I'm not useless.
You ARE!
You are Unabled and dumb and mean.
And no one wants mean people, the mean people stink!
Alone is screaming at nothing.
Alone is turning your insides to ice and ceding your affections-- cast off-- completely useless. Dangerous.
Alone is the fact, the grim knowledge that the world is made of liars and "teasers," who don't care who gets hurt.
What poor girl might take their "dates" seriously.
You can't trust.
You can't love.
People are ugly.
I tell myself in the mirror, ugly and fat as I am. A lumpy, lard thing.
And no, I don't believe I hated others because I hated myself.
I hated others since all I ever heard, were spears across a crumbling, already fragile self-worth.
And self-awareness, that I know I'm a freak.
I was alone, apart.
Alone is unable to see colors and light, unable to find beauty and being angry all the time at everyone you see on the TV.
You think the worst when your lonely.
And when the first hand finally deigns to take a chance on you-- is when rose exploded across my eyes.
Hurry Down Sunshine
There’s a scene in Little Miss Sunshine, where the little girl presents her brother with a color blindness test. His dream is to be a pilot. However, he fails the test - and that means he can’t be a pilot. It was his biggest dream, getting out of hellish, mindless suburbia. He runs off, and after a long period of self-imposed silence, finally screams into the arid air of the desert. It is a powerful scene and a testament to the true power of a dream - and being very deeply alone in it.
Similarly, I applied for an MFA in Writing recently. A comment on my last post reflected that I could have added to it, elaborated more on it.
So here’s the movie of my rejection:
No, I didn't scream into the arid air of a desert. Instead, I took it in stride, waxed philosophical, as only a writer can.
There’s a scene later on in Little Miss Sunshine, towards the end, where the uncle, who had slit his wrists over unrequited love, yells off a pier, into the ocean, in front of the brother who can‘t be a pilot. He says, after a long rant about someone: “All those years of his suffering were worth it, because it made him who he was.”
When I got my rejection for the MFA in Writing, I didn’t slit my wrists, or break weeks of silence. I squinted at my little phone screen, where my rejection sat in front of me. And I thought: fuck ’em. I’m good without an MFA.
Queue the moody movie music.
I live in a coastal city in Northern California. The day I got rejected, I walked down to my city’s pier, near the boardwalk. I watched the sea lions and felt the salt breeze. I thought: I’ll be OK.
I think the hardest part about being a writer is existing alone, in silence. It’s just like a self-imposed silence, and when I hit “publish”, I scream into the arid air of a desert.
I become one with potential failure.
I’m not sure if my years of suffering “make me who I am.” But right now? I’m trying to figure out how a rejection letter will be a part of my story. And how I can best write about it. How it will fit into the screenplay of my life.
My final thoughts? That I think I’m an adequate writer, able to pass the test to make me an official one. But maybe there is no test, maybe it’s more important than that. Maybe I’m blind, not color blind, but I have existed in that moment - in the movie, the brother‘s eyes flash quickly when he realizes he’s failed, and can’t be a pilot. I too have now had a moment where I was totally alone to process, in a single “frame” of my life (if it were cinematic, which it’s not), that I am not able to achieve my dream.
So, alone on the pier of my coastal California city, I was left alone to process my failure. But it’s not that, at all. It‘s going to be a scene, perhaps part of a future masterwork I will be able to call mine, and mine alone.
I took a picture of the ocean and saved it to my little phone, the little screen capturing a vastness I cannot fully comprehend - just like when the movie-goer watches the uncle speak philosophically about failure, we can relate to it, without fully understanding why, its vastness.
Like in the movie, I realized life is messy, and I am ready to move on - perhaps alone, as I always am in my writing, but stronger for having failed. Stronger for having tried, for being blind but now able to see beyond it.