so where does that leave us

it feels like something out of a movie
out of my brain into your life and my life and
the could be would be should be life that is ours or
the one that could be would be should be ours
it's the creative process i've never been able to explain
the way i created you from scratch and an old batch of love

that i keep by my windowsill to catch the sunlight and stay fresh
as fresh as love that has been made some days ago can stay

if you let your thoughts slip down the stairs
and your mind read between the not so carefully planned lines
you'll discover that i'm writing this letter to you
in the same way that i used to play the piano
without the rules ticking away counting the rhythm out for me

there's a thrill of the unknown making its way around my brain
dancing its dance and singing its song and weaving its way into my dreams
that are about you and how you affect me and my moods and my being
i know i can't follow in her footsteps
they were too similiar to yours
so similiar i can barely tell them apart
i'll walk behind you though
not because i want to follow in well worn footsteps
but because you'll always be about ten steps ahead of me

i can't see the future
i can barely remember the past
the present the here and now
comes and goes
like a play i read but couldn't fully grasp
until it was in the past and i could forget it all

you're a jumbled up haze in my heart
and make sense in the back door of my brain
but the two haven't spoken to each other in years
so where does that leave us

beginning ends

it's taking over and consuming
churning yearning burning
inside my brain
and i'm feeling like leaving it all behind
letting go of the reins
sending you my name
to repeat over and over when i'm gone
take my hand one more time
and let your lips brush against my fingertips
call me yours outside your brain
listen to the raindrops as they spell the
name of this game
do you understand the pitter patter of footsteps
that fall on creaky old floors
do they mean to you what they mean to me
can you hear them?
do you look at the stars and wonder if i'm looking at the same one you are
wishing hoping dreaming praying when i remember how
to pray
there's one more day
but i no longer want it
i'm content to let it all slip away
and breathe in the last breath
the last breath
the last breath
finally

missing stage presence

fill heavy silences with polar breaths
when i breathe out do you breathe in?
puncture the night air with laughs here and there
tiny ticking clocks await cautious answers
questions that begin bold grow faint
slipping between cracks of unscratched surfaces
buried away for another day or week or month or year
the curtains closed the stage is set but dark

intrigue held tight between fingers and closed palms
floats up to the moon when outstretched hands mix with summer wind
passerbys drive on unconcerned as the smell of newly budding things to come
lingers in the air
lines rehearsed a thousand and one times
get stuck in the back of throats that choke on unsuspecting fears
and grab hold tighter than corsetted costumes and the director's notebook

the rules of games played day by day
are forgotten or thrown away
nothing seems to matter as much or as little as this day
your day, your show, your play, your day
walk out on stage alone and remain there
standing with your back to the stage and your insecurities on display
what you say has lingered in your heart
and been buried by your brain
what you say lives forever in the space on stage


* open to alternate endings :)

beauty is a four letter word

i sat there in utter disbelief
reading words that slapped my face and
caused my jaw to sink like an elevator
hitting the last floor in slow motion
complete with the bump that follows
to bring you back to the here and now
i struggled with what to say to you
you poor unfortunate soul you
you slowly dying food depriving girl you
you walking talking advertisement for beauty
squeezed too tight but called just right
you're trying to get them on your side
trying to take over the world with girls
whose wrists and limbs and hips and lips
are five times too small but made to wear it all

how many girls will die inside to be just like you
how many girls will stop believing their beauty is beauty
how many girls will never be the same because of you
i want to wipe your brain clean
take a sponge and soak up all the
seeds that have been planted
where to start
take you back down memory lane
find fairy tale beauties and princess dreams
barbie doll fluff lingering behind your ears
and traces of hot pink lipstick on your food starved lips
good equals beauty and beauty equals slim and slim equals desirable
the kind of math they don't teach you in school
but every girl knows it without having to count on outstretched fingers
move forward a few places
and erase the traces of girls with sweet faces
who cursed your curves and cut you up with their words
throw away your magazines and teach you all about self-esteem
replace the one two three or more who made you feel insecure
and give you new eyes to see the world in a brand new way

mirror mirror on the wall
who's the fairest of them all?
mirror mirror on the wall
who the fuck do you think you are???
mirror mirror on the wall
i'm scared for you and for them all
mirror mirror on the wall
help me i can't heal them all.

*in response to one of the scariest blogs i've seen;
a pro-anorexia site with tips and advice and encouragement*

moonlight conversation

i had a nice little chat with you in your car parked out on my driveway
and it brought me back to the old days the good days those days of us
you've been in my life for eleven going on twelve years
that's half my life and half of yours too
it's crazy it's amazing it's half my life shared with you
i got to thinking about us
talking and whispering and laughing and surprising each other
with news and throw backs to high school and elementary school
and old crushes and new crushes
and oh my!s and rolling eyes

and all the ways we're two and one all together
there's a lot of history between us
a lot of memories and laughs and inside jokes
a lot of unspoken truths and well kept secrets
and looks that say more than words ever could or can or do
i've learned about myself through you
and i've learned little bits more of you
along the way
and i know that there's been good times and great times and amazing times
and not so good times and bad times and sad times and what the hell times
but i don't think i'd trade them
because they've got us this far
and i'm sure they'll take us much further
things have changed
it's not all bus rides and car rides and hay rides
it's msn convos and late night chats served with coffee
it's not all secrets and note passing and shopping
it's e-mails and details from days weeks months that have passed

things have changed
but so have i and so have you
and the change was rough for a bit there
i think we both knew but didn't want to say
misunderstandings and hurt feelings and the scare of it being the end
of the end of the end of the end of the end
but really it was just an adjustment a bump in the road if you will
(darn those bumps in the road)
and i think we both shared the feeling
and let too many days pass without saying what was on our minds and in our hearts
because neither one of us wanted to admit that something was slightly off beat
that the rhythm the two of us used to jive to had changed
and we both had two left feet
but last night in your car catching up on old news
and trying to sort out the new news
i found myself moving to a rhythm along with you
and as i made my way back to my old bed
i smiled at the thought of you back then
and i smiled at the thought of you now
and i smiled at the thought of us
years and years and years down the line

rocking on that old wooden porch we always talk about
reminiscing memories and moments shared
laughing and crying together on that old wooden porch
filling the cracks with tear stained laughter
and jiving to the steady rhythm of two rocking chairs
that always knew they'd be right there
waiting for us to come sit down
and have another moonlight conversation

serve me with coffee and a french croissant

twisted and tied around your pinky finger
no way to unwind from the run-around
branded to a chain that's mispelled my name
and made me into a number
another notch on the old belt
broken and beaten from too many years of use
blackmailed before there is no after
carved my heart into a concrete slab
just to watch it take its shape
mailed you my eyes
to see from my point of view
but you couldn't figure out
the step by step instructions
that interfered with the
three four time of your motives

spread your disease
let it seep down deep into pores
awaiting new scores of music
to sway to to live to to die to
to never be heard from again
once you've rolled over and
devoted a night to resting your
sometimes somewhat sleepy head
sleep instead
i'll meld my skin to yours
when the last trace of her is long gone
and he's left the right hand side of my bed
next week you can pencil me in
instead


serve me with coffee and a french croissant

drawn for free

I came across this guy's blog.
He draws people for free!
Get in touch with him, send him a picture and you're good to go.
This is his interpretation of moi.

brock