A Little Bit of Brain Fluff

the one I know

i believe
that i'm finally really over you

and it feels good

posted by Monica @ 11:54 AM Share your cobwebs (-: 0

a prayer

dear God,
thank You
for choosing me.

--sometimes,
it's hard to be me.

don't ask me why
i bow my head.

if only that night
could go on forever,

i miss it.
and
just maybe,
i miss him.

reasons to feel not good enough

posted by Monica @ 11:52 AM Share your cobwebs (-: 0

No, I didn't.

Afterwards, every second is an act of disbelief, a crisis of identity. I breathe; air goes into my lungs, alveoli absorb oxygen, red blood cells diffuse molecules throughout my body, I live, I breathe yet I don't feel.
They don't see me dumbly rooted to the spot while the elevator joins in the parade of ignoring my existence or perhaps it just takes machine mercy on me, double doors closing off the sight of their embrace.
It was.
He was.
She was.
Was that.
Wait. A million thoughts flaring and dying before completion and the only sense I have left is the awful roaring in my ears. And now I’m back home, the how forgotten and I'm wondering if it was just a dream, a bad one, not real, I have many nightmares whose reality evaporates upon waking.
Did I leave the house today after all, did I go to his office; they weren't kissing, maybe the angle was wrong and it wasn't what I thought at all, when he gets home he'll explain how one of his clients got her necklace caught in her hair and he was trying to fix it haha, I totally saw it wrong stupid me, stupid dream and the part of me that knows things with a certainty goes silent, drowned by the flood of hope, of wanting to believe.Sitting, no standing, pacing through the house, retracing my steps, wasn't I was here all day? I spent the morning working on a project and then I made myself lunch and fell asleep because warm food on a cold day always makes me drowsy and here's the two prints I bought this morning still in their archival wrappings and the store's Persian cat was winding around my legs while I was making my purchase and when I walked the few blocks to Kevin's office, I kept shooing cat fur off my clothes. On the front of my shirt, star bright upon the black fabric; a long white cat hair, as damning as a blonde one on a lapel.
It's dark when the garage door rattles in its tracks; he comes upstairs and heads straight for the guest bathroom, old taps squealing in protest as they turn. I call out a greeting which the water drowns, and another one as I peek around the door,"Hi."
"Hey."
"How was your day?"
"Fine."It's a conversation like we have most nights, one that could be performed just as well between two watchmen changing shifts. At this point, I usually launch into a recitation of my day along with specific questions about his but this time I don’t, lapsing into silence to watch him watch himself in the mirror while he dries off his hands. He always looks at himself instead of looking at me."So, how was your day?" I repeat.
"Fine," he repeats.
"I went by your office," I'm wearing a mask, my face isn't attached, the muscles below twisting while the skin remains placid, only lips rebelling, I can't control my lips, they feel like they are writhing grotesquely.
"Oh? Yeah, I had a lot of meetings."
"Yes," I say, not a question, "I came by around one." It's then I see it, his tell. His eyes flick away from his own in the mirror to meet mine before returning to his reflection and the part of me that knows things with a certainty roars back to life, See I told you.
"Ah," he says voice steady, "Sorry I missed you."
"I saw her."
He doesn’t break eye contact with the mirror as he finishes patting dry his face, while the roaring in my ears tunes to a shrieking frequency and he finally shrugs at himself in response,"You had to know that was coming," cold as a slap.

I have to read his lips because I'm deaf with rage, shaking speechless as he pushes past.

No, I didn't.

posted by Monica @ 11:37 AM Share your cobwebs (-: 0

My addiction

The only solution offered to an addict is transferring the addiction to another one.

It doesn't matter that I am not addicted to drugs. All addictions work the same.

Addicted to love
to life
to happiness

The toll for entry to the roads to salvation require stripping oneself of visible ornament, of music, of pleasure; window dressing which doesn't address the cause but gives the sinner a respectable palatability to observers, nevermind if he or she is staggering broken under the burden while treading the path of original sin. To gain the credibility, to get help, you have to show you're suffering for the journey to mean something.

So take a look.
I've suffered enough.
When do I get my salvation?

posted by Monica @ 2:55 PM Share your cobwebs (-: 0

You know who you are-

posted by Monica @ 2:46 PM Share your cobwebs (-: 0

a leap of faith

We can't swim
You and I.

Yet I fear no fathoms.

For we've not learnt
to drown.

posted by Monica @ 12:27 PM Share your cobwebs (-: 2

to be continued...

to be continued...

brief infinity;

the definition of
when you asked me
to close my eyes.

after telling me
the future would
put spaces between us.

just eyelash intervals
but epic intermissions
between the prequel
and the sequel.

I'm still writing our story,
there's no plot here yet to lose,
which also means

the ending hasn't begun.

posted by Monica @ 12:25 PM Share your cobwebs (-: 2