Turning Point

Feed back is most appreciated

I am not stupid.
But I’m possibly naive.
to believe the whispers that I’ve been fed throughout my life.
I am not stupid
But I am a bit naive
to call their words anything but lies, to call this life anything but fake.
I don’t think I’m stupid.
But I am positively naive.
For keeping the eye fold on and following the rules with blind trust.
Maybe I’m not that bright
Because half way through living I found myself lost, and it took me a minute to realize that I’ve never wandered, I’ve just been misguided.
Subconsciously following the paths that they’ve paved not with cement but with half truths.
Okay, I am most definitely fuckin’ naive.
to call this repetitive motion of intake and out take of breath a life, to believe that this box that they’ve put me in was for my own protection.
Actually I am stupid
for not asking what it was protecting me from? for not wondering what laid beyond the walls of my confinement, my so-called home.
No, I’m not stupid I’m much more than that, I fuckin’ define stupidity.
cause it took me long enough to figure out that I am depressed, and oppressed, that I’m living inside a snow globe, except it never snows
The only things that the winds blows in are disappointment and dust.
waves of disgust
Reminding me that everything I used to live for, I can no longer trust.
I am caught inside a shallow world, looking outside to a world filled with possibilities and opportunities that I was not given and lives that I’m not living.
So here’s what I think, I think my turning point lies on the other side of this glass prison.
But if you believe otherwise sprinkle some fake snow, cover me with plastic and call me a doll
cause if I don’t get to leave I might as well have never lived at all.

John

(In order to understand this piece, you should first read this explanation)

I called a number last night, a number I found in an online ad, she came in and before long I was looking into your face with my eyes tightly shut and whispering your name, but I could still feel her hipbones underneath my hands and they didn’t feel right, her body was all wrong, she had red hair to your brown and green eyes to your blue and yet I couldn’t help but close my eyes and pretend it was you, I don’t simply miss you, there’s nothing simple about the way my heart aches for you, and how much my body longs for your touch.

Just this morning I thought I heard your voice , I thought I heard the pans clanking in the kitchen, I could swear I smelt burnt toast, coffee and cigarettes, you were such a cliche in the most beautiful of ways.

And every morning I am slapped by the cruel hand of reality, overwhelmed by the empty spaces that used to be your side of the bed, your favorite reading chair, your desk, they all remain untouched, the papers you’ve scribbled your incomprehensible hand writing on are scattered all over the place along with the plans we drew on the backs of various napkins.

I dial your number to hear your voice, but it ends too soon, I’m always cut short by the godforsaken beep, urging me to let you go and go to sleep.

And it’s always most frustrating when they tell me that the ones we love never leave us, that they’re always in our hearts, as if you’d want to be caged up in there.

But I know it’s not true my heart hold nothing but the memory of you, because you are everywhere else.

You’re in the soil of the greenest lawns,
Between the petals of the flowers you touched and the swings you played on
scattered amongst the starts you so lovingly gazed upon
Saved between the pages of the books you’ve read and the stories you’ve written,

Your fingertips are all over the lives you’ve touched, the people you know and the ones you just passed by.
You are a part of their world just as much as they were a part of yours.
As for me you were my entire world, your voice breathed life into my name, your eyes held my soul, you’re palms held my heart and your heart held me whole.

I’m constantly reminding my self that you loved me too, but it’s always the hardest on nights like this, when the sky is at it’s clearest and the grass is at it’s greenest and you’re not here with me because you’re six feet under where you supposed to be.

Glass

Your lies aren’t webs, they’re more like an endless sea
in which you are so viciously drowning me.
I breathe them in but never out, each word you speak dulls my doubts.
They’re never complicated, always so simple and clear
You speak them with such honesty, your eyes ever so sincere
And although there’s that hint of wickedness behind your smirk
I no longer care
I’m far too gone, lured in by the curve of you waist, the promise of your lips and the waves of your hair
Drowning in your ocean my lungs have lost their taste for air
So I beg of you sing me a lullaby, engulf me with one more lie
Tell me to walk on glass
or throw myself in front of a train
tell me that won’t hurt and I promise you I won’t feel the pain
I’m handing you my strings won’t you be my puppet master
String me along, feed me your lies one after the other faster and faster
I’ll relish in them, and sin after sin, I’ll drink you in.

For the Love of Mars.

I’ve been here for so long, I saw the summer come and go.
I saw the flowers outside your window wither and then grow.
I waited through the rain, I waited through the snow.
But your eyes are still shut, can’t you open them for me
Because without you’re eyes, my future is blurred, I can’t see.
Open them and look
I painted the solar system on the walls of your hospital room
I painted with love, I painted away the sense of doom.
I painted the stars beside your head, And I painted the Sun above your bed.
Because you are the Sun of my universe, the centre of it all.
Please don’t let go dear, or everything will come undone, crumble to pieces and fall.
I’m begging you my love, I dont know how much longer I can last.
Without your sunshine and the warmth it used to cast.
Wake up my dear, wake up and see the stars.
Please wake up for the love of Mercury, Venues, Earth and Mars.

The World

Newest writing club project:

Outside in my own backyard, I felt the world close in on me.
I took a deep breath, and closed my eyes, maybe I’d find some serenity in my solitude.
I felt the tears stream down my face. I’ve never felt so lost, so out of place.
It felt like everything was against me, against what I am trying so hard to be.
As if the world has conspired to screw me over.
I was so easily breakable, weakened by own tears falling down helplessly.
My lungs gasped for air, under the crushing weight of disappointment, mine and everyone else’s.
I felt like screaming to the world, demanding a change.
But my voice failed me, so I sent a quiet prayer.
Please, please lift the apathy from the hearts of those around me.
Let us feel, live, experience our lives, rather than just going through the motions.
Please, I heard myself whisper.
I opened my eyes and stared at the moon above me, surrounded by stars.
I felt immensely small and insignificant.
This world, this beautiful magnificent world didn’t revolve around me.
Although it sometimes seemed that way, from my point of view at least.
But no,  the stars didn’t shine for me, the mountains didn’t stand because of me, and the tree, the same tree I’m lying under wasn’t here just to hide me from everyone’s eyes.
The world existed long before I ever did, and perhaps long after I stop doing.
And one day, into the future, when I die, I’ll be nothing but a memory in the hearts of those that love me.
But they’ll die too, taking away the only thing that is left of me to their graves.
That thought only made me think of all the other people the ones that died leaving nothing behind.
So many people simply forgotten.
I felt my heart hammer in my chest, as if it was screaming in protest. I DON’T WANT TO BE FORGOTTEN.
Again I felt small, unimportant, petty and meaningless. The dictionary doesn’t fall short of describing how trivial I felt.
And with each word, the tears kept streaming down and my heart kept pounding, demanding attention, And with each beat, it sent blood rushing through my veins faster and faster.
So my heart wasn’t the only organ conveying my distress.
My brain cried so my heart kicked and screamed and my whole body reacted to it.
Unity.
And I realized that my body, at that very moment. At every moment actually was working to keep me alive, it mended the cuts I got from being reckless, it healed the broken bones and cured my seasonal flu’s.
It worked nonstop just to keep me alive.
And yes I was small, and fragile and breakable. But I was fixable and mendable and repairable. I was all that without even trying.
And in that split second everything became brighter, I didn’t feel so alone anymore.
I was small, yet just as magnificent as everything else.
Outside in my own garden, I felt the world open up for me.
I took a deep breath, opened eyes and got up.
I felt the tears stream down my face. I’ve never felt so peaceful and serene. I’ve never felt so completely in place.

Please note that feedback is highly appreciated.

Eve

Before reading check The story behind the story in order to make sense of it all. 

I give you Eve: 

She walked into the room and sat on the chair as if she owned the place, her red hair a mess sticking in all directions, her eyes brown, wide and confident.

She looked him straight in the eyes and said “Interesting place you chose, don’t you know what they say, never mix work with pleasure”

He took a deep breath, she had come in character he hadn’t expected that, yet there he was standing in front of a woman with beauty that even in her state couldn’t be hidden.

He sat on the chair opposite to hers careful to maintain a distance, he knew what she thought she was here for and even though it broke every single rule in the book his instincts reacted to her, he was after all only human.

He cleared his throat and said “actually we’re only here to talk”

“Oh come on you can skip the formalities it’s not like anyone calls someone like me just to talk” she said.

“Someone like you” he asked.

“Yeah someone like me, people call us for a good time, to forget who they really are for a few hours” She crossed her legs and leaned forward. Her body language was inviting, and then as if she had just noticed what she was wearing she said “But I must say I am surprised by the choice of outfit and the place” she looked around the office “And lack of alcohol” she smirked “Usually there’s alcohol… a lot of it”.

“Interesting” he scribbled down something on his chart and said “But I am truly only interested in you”

“Oh well whatever floats your boat.” She took a deep breath, she could tell he wasn’t going to be easy, not drunk on self-hate, or mad at someone, and he was most definitely not here for a good time.

No this one was here to talk things out, it was written all over his face: he wasn’t a no strings attached kinda guy.

The look on his face was obvious, he wanted her.

Yet something was in the way, maybe he simply couldn’t be intimate with someone he didn’t know anything about.

So she’ll talk, why not? She was after all payed by the hour.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything, let’s start with the basics” – he was pleased that she had agreed to talking, instead of trying to solve the problem with taking the gown off… at least that’s what he told himself.

“My name is Eve, I’m from Arizona, I moved to L.A when I turned 18, I’m an only child, I’m also a Leo” she counted a handful of things she could talk about without being too personal, getting too personal with a client is strongly unadvisable.

He looked down at his charts, comparing what he knew was true to what she thought she knew was true, he decided to dig deeper, to see where the two paths collided.

He went through the list of possible questions the ones that will lead him down the right path

“What do you do for living”

She laughed “Well I’m payed by the hour but I’m no shrink” she said, his questions were getting a bit annoying, there is a reason she is what she is, although her job demanded physical interaction it was never personal, no connections whatsoever, and that’s the way she preferred it.

“I’m more interested in how you got into it in the first place”

 She sighed, he could tell that she was annoyed yet she kept answering “I’m good at what I do” She gave her best seductive look “I’m really good at what I do, and I enjoy it so why not benefit from that”

He felt parts of him reacting to her looks and voice, she was indeed good at what she does, he had never lost control with a patient before, the rational part of his brain urged him to change the subject

“Would it be too rude if I asked how old are you” He said with a gentle tone.

“Never ask a lady about her age” she said jokingly. “However I’ll make an exception for you, as long as you promise not to hold it against me” She smiled wickedly at him and whispered “35″

“Really?” he said “You don’t look a day older than 21″. He wasn’t being nice; he knew that for a fact.

He picked up a file from the coffee table between the two of them and shuffled through it hurriedly, searching for that number 35.

She stared at him from across the table, first there was a look of curiosity, interest and then shock, which turned into a softer look, understanding maybe?

She was good at reading faces, she always knew exactly what a guy wanted and when just by the look on his face, yet there she was in front of one and although she could read all his expressions none made sense.

Yes there he found it, the age her mom decided to kill herself, 35. She had killed herself after she couldn’t stand her husband’s abuse anymore. Only 35 years old.

Jackpot.

He was almost where he wanted to be, just a few more right questions and he’ll get there

“Tell me about your parents” He asked lightly trying not to put too much pressure on her.

There was a flicker in her eyes just for a second, he barely caught it but it was there.

“My parents” the words sounded bitter even to her, she was surprised by the sudden flow of emotions, she felt on edge, and suddenly his questions were no longer mildly annoying, but severely.

Her head started throbbing, her ears were getting hot. What was wrong with her?

He could tell that she was confused; she was probably getting all these mixed signals from her subconscious with no apparent reason. “go on” he urged her

“My mom still lives in Arizona” she said that as if she was asking rather than telling, the seductive look in her eyes is now wiped, for one of complete confusion and hint of the deadly power she had in her, she might be clueless but he wasn’t.

“And your dad” He asked more urgently now, they were running out of time.

“I don’t have a dad.” She said that with more certainty “he left before I was born”

He stared at her, looking for a glint of the person she actually was, there was no trace of that.

She wasn’t a killer he decided she took her father’s life after he caused her mother’s death but that wasn’t entirely her fault, she was just mentally ill.

There was a knock on the door, two men came in to escort her out.

“What’s happening” She asked

“They’ll let you know” He told her, unable to fully describe it himself.

She turned to leave when he said “I’m sorry”

She laughed “Are you kidding me, you were my first”

“Your first?”

“My first just to talk”

As she left she could see him scribble some more into his file.

Sara Jensen, 21 years old convicted for the murder of her abusive father, diagnosed with multiple personality disorder. She had killed as “Sara Jensen” and then had committed to the character of a “call girl named Eve” ever since, thus she is not competent to stand trial.

The defendant is found not guilty by reason of insanity. 

I hope you enjoyed it and please note that feedback is highly appreciated.

Caged.

“The Paranormal”  was the subject chosen for this week’s project.

Anyhow hope you enjoy it!

She stood still in the middle of a wishing well. What was once a magnificent free creature now held captive in a cage of stone. Her hands forever held up asking, she was angled so that she’s looking up to the sky… how cruel, she thought, to have to look up at what was once hers, so close yet so out of reach.

She ached for the sky and the feel of the wind beneath her wings, as if the sky itself has opened up its arms to embrace her.

Oh, the sweet irony. People from all over the world are coming up to her and wishing upon a coin, as if she could grant them a wish, when she couldn’t even be granted one herself.

“Throw the coin in the fountain and ask the statue for a wish Jimmy” a mother told her child who did what he was told obediently.

She was a statue now! She laughed at her own helplessness.

She was now left with nothing but the memories. Memories of when she used to soar in the open sky; flying amidst the clouds, listening to the melody the wind sung while she flew by; a lovely melody that portrayed emotions she can’t even begin to understand although she would always try. She wanted to sing along to songs she didn’t know the words to and relish in the beauty of the sky which she belonged to.

She felt invincible. Her black majestic wings carried her wherever she wanted to go, she had never stooped low enough to touch the ground.

But one day she wondered how much higher she could go, and she was consumed by that thought that she had to know. So she went higher and higher, high enough for her wings to catch on fire. One feather at a time, the beautiful black feathers turned to ashes and now she was falling down…

It was a long way down, but not long enough, because soon she crashed into the sand, and the pain was unimaginable. It nothing like she had ever felt before, she lay on the ground for hours, willing herself to get up.

And when she finally did she held her hand up to the sky; reaching out, asking for forgiveness… waiting for her wings to mend themselves.

Pillars of sands stood in front of her and she took comfort in their presence, she felt that the desert – much like her heart- was a vast empty place, she stood there with what’s left of her wings, staring at similarities, waiting… praying that her greed would be forgiven.

Maybe if she stood there long enough the desert would swallow her and transform her into a thousand specs of sand.

How comforting would that be, she wondered. To fly again whenever the wind picked up? Reflectively she spread what’s left of her wings, and winced with pain.

But pain was good; it meant they were still hers.

Lost and broken she stood there; unable to fly she just stood there.

She fed on freedom, and now being trapped she was starving. Without her wings, every part of her body felt like it was on fire, and whenever the wind picked up or a bird flew by she’d feel the fire igniting in her bones.

She crashed early morning, but it was midday now, although she stood still, time didn’t somehow.

Please let this pass, and put me back together, she pleaded, but her pleas were full of dread.

What if she was broken beyond repair, what if she’s doomed to stay forever this way?

The sun is sinking low, her hope is starting to waver, and what if no one comes, what if she’s stuck here forever?

She prayed the moon will show up with more than stars by its side.

It never did.

She stood still for years; she lost count of how many, until a man came across her now stone-solid body. He traded her for money, he claimed she brings good luck, and now she takes residence between metallic water.

Once upon a time her wings carried her above seas and between mountains but now because of greed all that is left of her is more or less a glorified fountain.

Please note that comments are highly appreciated!!

The Aftermath

Last meeting’s projects were supposed to be “New Beginnings” and “Being Human” so me being the lazy ass I am combined those two in one.

Hope you enjoy:

Dear Annie

I’m writing to you in hopes that my letter will make a difference, it most likely won’t but I thought you should know either way. You probably don’t remember but I was there that night on the roof, I was there and I feel obliged to tell you what I saw, because I am sure you felt rather than saw it due to the intensity of the situation.

Here’s how I see it: I saw lost broken pieces of a man, I saw him get up on the railing and start talking to himself, he had a mad tortured look on his face, his eyes portrayed the internal war he was fighting, I heard him say I can’t leave her but I can’t keep going either, then he was mumbling a chain of I’m sorry’s, after that he started yelling, that’s when you ran up and he saw you and the hollow look on his face was briefly replaced with a passionate look, as if you reminded him of the good in life, I believe that he was a broken man yes, but I believe that he loved you with all the pieces, I think that your love is what held him together for so long. I don’t know you very well that’s true but I know what I saw, the affection I saw could not be faked, I saw your life flipping upside down when he jumped of the roof, I saw you shatter right in front of me, breaking into as many pieces as he used to be.

And while the scene keeps replaying in my mind, I find my thoughts always going back to you, because you were left here to deal with the pain and loss alone, because even though no one would’ve guessed you survived that. I can only imagine how it would feel like to lose such love, how would one ever recover?

What he did was wrong I’m not defending it, but I think the way he saw it that was the only way out, the way he pushed you off the railing onto the roof to save you and then jumped off cause he knew there’s not saving him was the only way he could express his love to you, as if he wanted his last act to be an act of love towards the woman he loved. Towards you.

I don’t know what broke him

But I’d like to believe that something good comes out of everything, him dying made me rethink the way I lived, I always acted as if I was invincible, but now I understood what his words meant, although I understand them differently, when he said “life is the longest thing we’ll experience but we’re always surprised when it comes to an end, I don’t want to be surprised I want to take control”.

Except for me that means that I need to live it to the fullest, while keeping in my mind my future, and sure it’s a future that may never come, but what if it does come and go and I’m left on my dying bed with nothing to show for the lifetime I’ve lived.

Unintentionally he gave me a new beginning and I could only hope that he could somehow give you one too.

We’re all humans, we think too much and feel too deeply, I think being human means dealing with that, coping with change and the excessive emotions that come with it.

I think people believe in god because they need to, they need to know that everything happens for a reason, that there’s someone out there looking out for us, I don’t know about you but I do believe in god, and I hope that where ever Johnny is, he’s not hurting anymore I hope he’s no longer broken, and I hope he’s somewhere better.

Sincerely yours

Lilly.

Please note that comments and constructive criticism are HIGHLY appreciated

Exactly One Year Later…

It’s so quiet that I can hear the Faucet dripping in the bathroom of this cheap motel room. I’m treating myself to it, it’s quite disgusting. But I’ll take anything other than seeing my mom getting beaten by my dad… again, besides I already had my share today.

I remember telling you in this very same room that I resented her, even more than I resented him, I resented her for not fighting back, for not walking away and saving us her own children from the strokes of his belt.
So you kissed every bruise I had, you promised me one day it’ll be better, you promised me if I can only wait, we’ll change the world, in a year when I  turn 18 that’s what you promised. You promised me a new beginning a life, instead of this shell of a one. So I saved up some money, like we planned to, and I’m here where exactly one year ago you promised to take me away from this place.

All you need is love ~ that’s what you said and I believed it, so help me god I believed it with every fiber in my being.

I clung to the hope, for hope was the only thing that kept me going, hope of a future with you.

Exactly one year later, I’m alone. It’s not better.

I have the window open and I feel the cold wind blowing in, it makes me shiver, makes me feel alive, not like the sound of your heartbeat used to but it’s the closest I got to after you.

I try to clear my mind of all the negative thoughts, but I can still see the pity in the pizza delivery guy’s eyes trying not to stare at the bruises on my face.

I smile bitterly, and it makes me wince cause of my freshly cut lip, which makes the tears go down so much easier.

I weep for you, I weep for us, I weep for the future that never came and the hope that faded away. I weep with all my might, and I’m sure that any moment now the pure ache will overwhelm my heart, and it will stop, at least I hope it does.

I know you won’t approve of this, of what I became, but I’ll never know for sure, cause you’re not here, and your promises lay broken like my bones have so many times before.  Funny you’d think the impact my father’s fist against my face would hurt more, but no I’d take a thousand beatings over the pain of losing you.

The feel of the worn out note you handed me exactly one year ago is familiar, I have memorized each and every word you scribbled on it, it gives me a false sense of hope, that maybe it was a dream, maybe you just gave me this, maybe nothing happened.

The wind blows more fiercely bringing me back to the present, and I clench with dear life to last tangible reminisce of you, while the rest wither away underground.

“Happy Birthday Love, meet me at the Love Shack – yes that crappy motel by the side of the road, I have a surprise for you ” Kris.

So yeah, Comments are HIGHLY appreciated and thanks for stopping by

I Wonder

Okay for clarification I’d like to state that this is my first time attempting to write anything like this, I’m usually strictly a poem and random thoughts posting person, but it’s a new year -yes I’m going with that- so why not try new things?

I’m standing near the stairs… trying to stay clear of human contact, sure I’ll smile at the old man’s feeble attempt at joking, and perhaps I’ll even answer a question or two asked by the lady in blue with the judgmental eyes, although she has no business whatsoever to be asking me any questions, but the truth is I pay them no attention cause I’m standing there unaware of anyone else besides her, she’s in a figure hugging strapless red satin dress, it looks marvelous against her fair skin, and strikingly black hair which is held up in a way to reveal the beauty of her elegant features, her wide eyes, small nose and full lips, she’s gorgeous and she knows it.

I look at her searching for any trace of the girl I once knew, but she has scrubbed herself clean, she is no longer the friend I once called my dearest.

I look away no longer able to stare at the social butterfly she has become while I seem to forever be stuck in the caterpillar state, never to fully grow into anything resembling beauty.

From the corner of my eye, I feel her looking at me, my jealous longing look apparently have not gone unnoticed, she’s looking at me with pure pity, and only then I know that she didn’t only scrub her skin clear, but she has also washed away the reminiscent of her once unique soul, she’s no longer the girl sitting with her best mate next to the stairs, making fun of Mr. Smith attempts at grabbing Ms. Johnson’s -now Mrs. Smith’s- attention, she’s no longer the free thinker nor the rebellious friend with plans of running away, she was once disgusted by how women would do anything to belittle their so called friends, and how they crave the looks of men.

I’m unraveled by how she sold her soul to the devil, how could she have let everything she believe in slip away, only to be one of their-as we once called them- mindless puppets.

I stand here feeling uglier and smaller than ever, and I wonder if betraying one’s morals for the sake of fitting in and being accepted is satisfying…

I wonder if behind her stunning smile she misses her old self too.

Please note that comments are appreciated.