silence speaks nothing -- To be consumed by words until they come stumbling out, arranged and resonant, unwilling to bow to the closure of strict lips. What is that? Where is it-- I've written copies, and rallies, and letters YET none of the words that reside in me have my heart, and I'm--- Scared. SCARED SCARED SCARED I've never known fear like the fear that I have of the words inside me. I don't know what they look like. Amorphous, greedy, vicious things I fear that if I write, if I speak, if in another sentence I play out a new stanza, If I dare I fear the truth will come out. WHAT DO I LOOK LIKE HONEST good lord I fear the truth of --loneliness?-- frustration, listlessness. A cacophony of longing that has no name and no purpose; I can feel everything raging under my skin like a quiet storm, a knot in a maze in a forest woosh woosh woosh Outside the wild listlessness fades into a practiced nonchalance. Words can't unravel if the words are too honest, and all my letters are honest. I keep them in. Through a mirror: I am indifferent, and silent, and sleepy. whispers I fear that the who that I built outside will be consumed by the monsters that are growing in the peripheries! shades drawn, battle lines marked fighting myself by burning the war suffocate drown and asphyxiate my self Another lie, another half-truth. statement I fear what I have in me; I fear that there is nothing in me at all. What if I can't write or paint or speak because there are no monsters in the deep? No colors in the wind, no female mysteries, no hysteric soliloquies A new model! An automaton of motions, everything but nothing at the same time Outrageous for the price of fun: PRESS 1 FOR BREATHING PRESS 2 FOR LUCK PRESS 3 FOR LOVE number not available!!! Motions upon motions Unfeigned confusion " " relaxation, elevation, escalation #anxietynation In what scenario will I start to write the entries that define my meaning: Denial death dusk depressed Denied denied DENIED REJECTED by myself Shut up! Stop! Speaking! BE SILENT be silent be silent be silent until the silence starts screaming without me
This isn’t a cry for help. It’s a………………n exercise in trying to write again OTL. And I wrote this earlier while eating in Market Basket! Good shrimp and good salmon!
In other news, my sister’s in Korea (and I gave her a cool list of things to buy for me). I’m still here, not studying for my GIN exam on Tuesday. :o
I want to write about so many other things: how much I’m following Miss Universe, how I loved our graded physical examination earlier this week, how I’ve got secrets piled upon secrets. Some other time.