Picturing Words

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

react

how do I not react

to the way the words sound

when the words sound

the way they always sound

be less be more

be better be different

 are the words I’ve heard

too many times

don’t get too close

but don’t go too far

be you

but not too much

maybe the words

that fell from your lips

never said

those things

but the words that I hear

scream them loud and clear

and their response

is to react

to let you go

before you let me go

is there even

anything here to hold

silent voices leaving

 words on pages

with no intent

on ever being real

so from the mystery

of the poet’s eye

I use metaphors

to make my point

when inspiration comes

from lines on a page

what else can you do

it simply feels

 like I’ve been told I am wrong

and told

I am not more than that

and it goes straight to the place

where anger lives

and knocks loudly

on the bolted door

as the door flies open

in a vacuum it catches

 everything

left lying on the floor

and it all comes out

like a hurricane

taking out whatever

lies in its path

so the reaction is

to feel that as it stands

and the response

is perhaps to understand why

 

 

 

I Don't Want To Feel

 

I wrote this in July of last year just reposting today because I now have a Soundcloud page for posting songs.

 

The link for this one is...

 

https://soundcloud.com/aka_andrea/i-dont-want-to-feel

 

 

v.

I want to hold on to the darkness

This hollow feeling filling up my chest

I want to say things out of anger

I want to lay this thing to rest

 

br.

I don’t want to feel         x2

 

v.

I want to turn you into nothing

A memory left lying on the floor

Forgotten ~ just the way you left me

No thoughts of you anymore

 

br.

I don’t want to feel     x2

 

ch.

I want to forget you like I never knew your name

I want to forget you and let you take all the blame

I want to forget you and leave you far behind

I have to forget you, you will never be mine

I don’t want to feel

 

v.

There isn’t anything inside me

The words and places lead me back to you

I’m going crazy and I’m losing

Myself in all these memories of you.

 

ch.

br.



wondering about words

wondering about words and where they’ve gone

about the bridge that words built between us

wondering why the words have grown quiet and still

and how their meaning has gotten thin

wondering that maybe I said a word wrong

my pronunciation a stutter at best

wondering if the words were scratching your ears

and left them itchy and raw

wondering if words are just talking

about someone or something else

wondering if my words just fell flat on the floor

that’s kind of how it felt

wondering if the words are like speed bumps

that constantly slow us down

wondering if maybe we pause for each one

it won’t seem like such a disruption

wondering if maybe it’s not about words

but that was all there was

wondering and missing the sound of the words

and still getting lost in my own

wondering if that bridge is broken

maybe split directly in two

wondering if words can be threaded together

to connect the two sides again

Sleep. like a lover

Sleep, like a lover, can heal you

wrap you up in her tender arms

and catch you as you fall.

She can keep you warm

and keep you safe

from what hides beneath the bed.

She can pool your tears

in her outstretched hand

and drink them all away.

She can take you to that place

where the dreams sustain your heart

and rebuild your long lost hope.

She is warm and soft

and when in her embrace

there is nowhere you’d rather be.

Slightly lost and floating

on waves that push and pull

against the edges of your consciousness.

From sleep you will arise

with the feeling of something new

something come again.

You will hold on to her as she

makes her exit

leaving you until tonight.

Your hand will lie on the edge of the bed

open and waiting

for her to return and take it again.

She will come to you

when you need her the most

and she will lie down beside you.

Sleep, like a lover, you know

is just the illusion come to life

she cannot really save you.

She just opens the door

for your mind to let go

and for your heart to dream.

Unhealed

Those old ghosts have found their way

back to my room in the dark.

I feel their hands upon my skin

just like all those years ago.

Taking what does not belong to them

leaving terror in their wake.

Something gone that will never return

emptiness in its place.

The numb became protector

where nothing had to hurt.

Where I could be normal and know how to act

without crumbling into fear.

The tears would come at the very worst time

the intimacy exposed.

I never knew how to tell her why

I couldn’t give her that part of me.

The reason is simple really

it was taken long ago.

The hole that was left in its wake

the hollow gaping wound.

Without the numb to hide within

the false sense that I am alright.

Without the loss of inhibition

I have no idea how to act.

I’ve never found that motion

completely unrestrained.

Never felt truly safe enough

to tell you the names of those tears.

I needed you to touch me

in the very deepest place.

In the tiny and broken parts of me

to tell them that they were safe.

I needed to let all of it go

yet you let go of me instead.

Now those broken pieces are aching

to be touched and to be felt.

 

Going Home?

Wondering about going home

to a place where I no longer live.

Feeling slightly hesitant

yet eager at the same time.

There is nothing stranger than the feeling

that everything has changed.

There is nothing left of me in that place

no evidence I ever lived there.

It’s such an odd feeling seven years past

the guilt is finally gone.

I’m still fighting and scratching to find my way

not taking the easy way out.

I don’t know where I would say that I

truly feel at home.

I don’t know that I’ve ever really felt

that I was where I wanted to be.

I ended up here by default,

certainly not by choice.

But this is now where I have to find

a way to live this life.

I don’t know what role I will play with them

so far from who I once was.

And still so far, so far away

from who I want to be.