Thursday, December 24, 2009

Never What I Remember.

Never What I Remember

This single day of joy,
Bedecked with merriment and youth
And plagued by dreams of that one toy
That will prove to me this season's truth,

As a child, was so wondrous.
And all the days leading unto it,
My cheer was pure and boundless,
And the glee born then was a conduit

That would last me all the year.
But time has long since grown,
And with each passing season I fear
That the magic I once had known

Is now gone for all my years.

(For the joy I now try so hard to find is never what I remember.)

Written 12.25.09 @ 12:10 AM

Thursday, December 17, 2009

Lonely Shoulders.

Lonely Shoulders

I had a dream
A dream more like a memory
And in it I lay napping
As I do now

But the difference was
In the dream you were there
And you came up to me
And laid alongside my back

Your arms preparing to wrap
Around my sleeping shoulders
But before I could drown in their love
I suddenly awoke

And there were no arms
Upon my lonely shoulders.

Written 12.17.09 @ 3:32 PM

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

Sunset Fair.

Sunset Fair

The heart that beats
Within your chest
Let it rest, let it rest

It wants not of hate
Or great divide
Only to ride, only to ride

Into the setting sun
Of true love's fair
But unaware, so unaware

Of what awaits it there.

Written 12.16.09 @ 9:59 PM

The Soulmate That Never Was.

The Soulmate That Never Was

Why did you teach me this word?
From the time I was born
To the first glance from a boy
This word you drilled into my heart,
Programmed into my head

And all it did was set us up,
The children of all ages,
For failure, for heartache

Can't you see:
There is not one
And never was
For love is all around
And it is lost and found
Time and time again.

Written 12.16.09 @ 1:49 AM

Thursday, December 10, 2009

Five Years.

Five Years

It's 6:10 in the evening, and tears stain my face. The words he said run through my mind: "And at 5 years, the survival rate drops to 50%." Half of the patients who receive a bilateral lung transplant die within 5 years. That's HALF, in FIVE. In his white coat, with his gently combed strawberry blonde hair and his sensitive but knowledgeable face, he explained that this means a patient wouldn't want to go through transplantation too early. The patient being me. For instance, he explained, if you thought you have at least ten more years to get out of your original lungs and you went with the transplant, you could be cutting 5 years off your life. Thus, as he so rightly surmised, it's a judgment call. Listening to him speak, hearing these earth-shattering words about a patient's odds, MY odds, I had to fight back the tears. And through these latent tears I wondered to myself, Can I live 5 more years on my own, on my original lungs? And honestly, I don't know the answer. But I feel in my gut that it's not good. And the whole idea got me thinking about my fate in general and how quickly everything can and will come crashing down. The thought didn't occur to me until now, but my life will most likely become drastically different in the next 5 years. What kind of fate is that for a 22-year-old, one with so much passion and dreams that I feel like at times I could burst, but with so little physical ability to chase after them. Where will I be in 5 years?

Written 12.10.09 @ 6:34 PM

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

It's in Their Foreign Hands.

It's in Their Foreign Hands.

The stage is calm and black
And I stand with my heels to it
Palms down and moist
Heart poised and quietly quivering
Inside my unknowing chest

The lights have yet to come up
And the audience sits waiting
With authority and mystery
And my fate in their foreign hands
What will the verdict be

Freedom or failure
Life or death
Either way,
We all eventually rest.

Written 12.9.09 @ 12:28 AM

Monday, December 7, 2009

How does my story end.

How does my story end.

I did not want to see the end
Our faces fading black
I wanted to keep us here
In this eden
In these arms

But the earth
The blessed, knowing earth
Keeps sending smoke signals my way
And I wonder if this eden
Is perhaps only an illusion
Waiting for the right moment to decay

First the bracelet
That you gave
Dripping with love
Unraveled before my unwilling eyes

Next the air-dried rose
Preserved from our six months
Of childlike infatuation
Disconnected at the stem and ovule
And I wept upon its irreparable fate

Then the last, and most tragic,
Was my surprise gone awry:

I planned a gift for you
To say the apologies that my heart could not speak

I went to develop the film
Of our trip to the bandshell
When our candid embraces
Were snapped by our friends,
When we were still basking in eden
And in each other's
Love-saturated limbs

But when I went to remove the canister
From the vintage camera
The film was not inside it
But instead lay exposed to the light
On the canister's right

And all the stilled images
Of our still-then pure love
Were swallowed into blackness.

Written 12.7.09 @ 11:01 PM

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

The Distance.

The Distance

They say that having the distance between you
Makes it easier
When things fall apart.

But it doesn't.

Because on cold and lonely nights like this,
I used to find solace
In feeling the warmth of your future hands,
And the love of your future kiss.

But tonight,
On this cold and lonely night,
I have only the ghost of your past hands
And the faint memory of your lingering kiss.

On the cold and loneliest of nights like this,
Only my memory exists.

Written 12.2.09 @ 12:24 AM

Monday, November 30, 2009

Lemon Kisses.

Lemon Kisses

Lemon kisses
On my lips,
Can't resist

The pain
Of this bitter kiss.

Written 11.30.09 @ 11:17 PM

Shaven, Untaken.

Shaven, Untaken

Clean shaven
Not taken
To the places that I want to be

Not ready
Too heavy
As my heart hangs inside of me

Though looking
Not cooking
Any kind of steady plan

Just waiting
And hating
The power that's inside of man.

Written 11.30.09 @ 2:31 AM

Sunday, November 29, 2009

Below the Surface.

Below the Surface

Into death we grow apart
Below the ground
But my heart
Will rise to the surface
And hopefully be found.

Written 11.29.09 @ 2:52 AM

Sunday, November 22, 2009

To Best the Broken Nest.

To Best the Broken Nest

There is no love
Within this house
We can't go out to play

We're stuck inside
Trying to hide
To pass the day away

But in the corners
Of our walls
We can all find parts

Of hidden joy
And youth's sweet ploy
To recollect our hearts.

Written 11.22.09 @ 12:36 AM

Monday, November 16, 2009

Her Love is in Our Hands.

Her Love is in Our Hands

She walks with us among the leaves,
Her love will guide us home

She gives us strength to breathe with ease,
Holding us when we're alone

She puts her love within our hands,
Though she left too soon

For the world couldn't handle
A sun without a moon

But behind her she made way for us
And the love that carries us.

Although she left too soon.

...For Kelly.

Written 11.16.09 @ 1:45 PM

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Raindrops at My Window.

Raindrops at My Window

The rain runs wet and slow
Outside the chilled frames of my window
And with each drop, my heart will grow

But no, the rain withholds the growth,
Devours it in every trembling drop
To the point my heart may stop

Until the sun resuscitates its love
And holds it firm thereof.

Written 11.11.09 @ 1:23 AM

Saturday, November 7, 2009

The Hourglass.

The Hourglass

Hell of a time
But is it a crime
To love the things you have

Or more of a sin
To hold it within
And want some more so bad

But either way
You clear the day
And the hours drive you mad.

Written 11.7.09 @ 11:41 PM

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

The Secret to Living.

The Secret to Living

Smile because you want to
And because you can
Smile because you mean it
And because you're human

Smile for the world
Smile for the children
And smile even though
You may feel completely broken

For the truth is that a simple smile
Can save a life once in a while.

Written 11.4.09 @ 11:59 PM

Monday, November 2, 2009

We Are Overcome.

We Are Overcome

We are overcome
By the beauty of our children
The way they sit and walk
And stand and talk
As if the world were theirs around them

We are overcome
By the love that we give them
How it pours from our hearts
Never stops, only starts
And we ask to be forgiven

For not delivering the world
To the palms of these sweet children.

Dedicated to my beautiful nephew Brandon Alexander, who turns 1-year-old tomorrow. Happy Birthday, Brandon Boy. ♥

Written 11.2.09 @ 10:55 PM

The Unraveling.

The Unraveling

I’m wearing the thread bracelet that you gave to me

The one you tied so tightly around my slender wrist,

Making certain it would hold;

But I’ve noticed it slowly, ever slowly

Unraveling its silky blue fibers;

I try to tug them tight together, adding a knot or two,

Trying to savor the love you wrapped within these threads;

But every time I look away, they can’t help but come undone.

And I can’t help but come undone upon seeing them.

Written 10.31.09 @ 2:05 AM

Saturday, October 31, 2009

The Hallowed Mask.

The Hallowed Mask

The hallowed mask,
This shallow cast,
That rests upon my face

It hides away
The shades of gray
That nothing can erase

But no more lies,
It can't disguise
The thing I truly crave

Its tender sound
I've lost and found,
For I am love's true slave.

Written 10.31.09 @ 11:14 PM

Friday, October 30, 2009

What We Are.

What We Are

Today we are what we love
The sand, the earth, the sky

But love is not enough
And neither am I.

Written 10.30.09 @ 11:48 PM

Thursday, October 29, 2009

Autumn Love and Death.

Autumn Love and Death

Another leaf and my heart will burst
[A crimson leaf twirls past.]
Another wind gust and I'll simply faint
[This gust won't be the last.]

My heart is still but fast.

Written 10.29.09 @ 11:49 PM

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

The Southern Exodus/The Northern Happiness.

The Southern Exodus/The Northern Happiness

They were an ordinary family. Two parents. Hardworking, loving, middle-class, selfless, and aging. Several children, a mixture of boys and a few girls. All clothed, fed, educated, disciplined, respected, and loved. Years back, they decided to take on an adventure together. To move to the north. They felt in their hearts that the journey would erase their troubles and give them new hope. It would change them all. And it did. But in ways different than they dreamed.

They made the move successfully. All their persons were safe and in one piece. But the years to come were not as successful or beautiful as the original dreams that had brought them there. Job losses, prolonged unemployment, illnesses, hospital stays, grandparents passing, high-risk pregnancies, piling bills, sparse groceries, and a crowded apartment. This ordinary family, full of adventure and dreams, was hit with one punch after another. Each one more forceful and gutwrenching than the last. And as time went on, they began to wonder if their daring to dream was worth all this ruin.

But hope can save the anguished soul. One day they got a phone call that their maternal grandmother, who had passed since the start of their adventure, had left a bank account in the name of her daughter. And it had a sizeable sum of money. Not certain but optimistic, they believed it could be enough to buy the family their very own house. The first since their exodus from the south. And they felt that maybe, just maybe, this could be a token of their former happiness. The very kind they unknowingly lost in their climb to the north.

A few months went by, and after seemingly aimless and fruitless house hunting, they innocently stumbled upon a ripe peach one day. It was still young and not quite perfect. But it was bursting with potential. The kind that made their homesick eyes sparkle for the first time in years. Dealing and negotiating was done, and anxiety, worry, and stress was had. But in the end, the seller's gave way. And the family won back a token of their past.

Every day following they spent preparing the house, this new treasure of their lovesick hearts. Cleaning, taping, painting, wiring, building, and tweaking. And minute by minute, day by day, they gained an ounce more of their happiness back. With every scrub, every vacuum, every stroke of the brush, renewed joy seeped its way into their lives. For they finally had the one thing they had so heedlessly cast aside and left behind. The very thing they came in search of, not realizing that it exists not in a place but in your heart. They had a home.

Written 10.27.09 @ 11:53 PM

Monday, October 26, 2009

Like the Wind.

Like the Wind

Today I helped watch my three nephews. The oldest of them, blue-eyed and fair-haired Kason, was walking around quietly with his hands in his pockets - looking somewhat sad for a normally jubilant three-year-old. This is what proceeded:

Kason: "Mom, Dillon's really upset to me."
Lindsay: "Dillon's really upset with you?"
Kason: "Yeah."
Lindsay: "Why is Dillon really upset with you?"
Kason: "Cause I hit his arm when I was running like the wind."

He did it accidentally. And he felt guilty enough to tell his Mama the truth, which means quite a bit. He then apologized to Dillon (who is one of his many uncles), and everything was fine. But this young boy never ceases to amaze me with his brilliant mind and sweet little heart. ♥

Written 10.26.09 @ 6:00 PM

Inner Child.

Inner Child

I am a child, through and through
Time can't take that away from you
My mind is bright with drawings and dreams
And my heart is light with wondrous feelings
Forever and on, whether wrinkled or fair
I will always love, and laugh, and scare
As only a child can truly do
For I am a child, through and through.

Written 10.25.09 @ 11:58 PM

Saturday, October 24, 2009

Indebted to Each Other.

Indebted to Each Other

We live in debt
Of many things
Money, courage, love;
Nothing is original,
Only borrowed or reused

We cannot take
Full credit
For the givings in our lives;
No one can truly hide
From the force that we exude

Upon each other

Our lives are part of one another
And we live in debt, together.

Written 10.24.09 @ 10:22 PM

Friday, October 23, 2009

The Brother.

The Brother

Young brother,
Though you loathe
Routine and great control
You must break this hold
Of anger on your soul

Your life
Will outlast mine
In the flurry of our time
So treasure all that's thine
Or else I shall resign

To feeling that my life
Was just a failed design.

Written 10.23.09 @ 11:15 PM

Here We Are.

Here We Are

Air off. Windows up.
Breeze blows in, I'm cool enough.

Eyes closed. Dreams a-brewing.
Heart is pumping, love's accruing.

Feel the earth. Breathe the air.
We're caught here, so unaware.

But here we are, without a care.
Keep us here, without a care.

Written 10.22.09 @ 11:34 PM

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Our Wild Hearts.

Our Wild Hearts

Your heart, I hear your heart. Beating there within your chest. Stop and rest, and listen to your heart. It beats so rapidly. I cannot comprehend how something so wild and fast can make us so calm and steady. A wild nature runs through our blood and in our veins. Yet we sustain our calm demeanor. We weren't meant to stay here, living in slow motion. Wild blood flows through our body, and a wild heart pumps in our chests. Don't let us rest. Let us live. Listen to your heart. And live.

Written 10.21.09 @ 11:06 PM

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

An Opinion on the Color Blue.

An Opinion on the Color Blue

It looked electric like the sky. All four walls, a blazing heaven. They surrounded me, engulfed me, cradled and lifted me into a palace of pure wonder, far beyond earthly dimensions. I was drawn to this spot, over and over again. And forever I would stand within, lost in time and space in this quiet place. It bled joy into my heart and vivacity into my spirit. It electrified my soul. And made my heart feel whole.

Written 10.20.09 @ 11:55 PM

Monday, October 19, 2009

Earth is Love.

Earth is Love

Fertile earth, rebirth me
I want to feel renewed
Aching inside, I cannot hide
From dismal solitude

If only you would grant me
A single chance reborn
To breathe new air, without a care
To have this old flesh torn

From the heart that lies beneath
And waits to beat anew
Grant me your love, I'm not enough
But hope is found in you.

Picture Taken 10.17.09 @ 5:00 PM
Written 10.19.09 @ 11:26 PM

Saturday, October 17, 2009

The Wind.

The Wind

The wind blows cold,
And feeling so old,
I lay tightly wrapped in its arms

Time starts to change me,
As I try to brave thee,
And deny its deadliest charms.

Written 10.17.09 @ 9:48 PM

Friday, October 16, 2009



So tired tonight
Please hold me tight
The black of night
Can scare me

But morning light
Will make it right,
This endless fight
That shakes me.

Written 10.16.09 @ 11:22 PM

The Realm.

The Realm

I close my eyes,
But the sun still shines;
It can't die in the blackness
Behind their lids,
As I can do

I open them wide,
But the moon is now mine;
It gives birth to the blackness
Of the evening sky,
As I fade into

The realm of the in-between.

Written 10.15.09 @ 11:35 PM

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Pain on the Palate.

Pain on the Palate

I taste your pain
It's bitter and poignant
On the bed of my tongue;
But I'll take it for you
And swallow it whole
So your heart won't be stung

By love's grief

This dish, let me have it
For my progressed palate
Has grown to be numb

To life's bitter treats

And to see you reborn
Without scars from love's scorn
Will be all that I need

So give it to me,
And be free.

Picture Taken 6.1.08 @ 12:39 PM
Written 10.14.09 @ 11:43 PM

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Getting off the Ground.

Getting off the Ground

Grounded to and by the Earth,
To feel her worth;
She's bounded

Anchored deep down,
To the heavy ground;
She yearns to be liberated

But if she spreads her wings wider,
And lets the wind guide her,
The sky will be her bed

So sleep tight, sweet Flyer,
For tomorrow much higher
Will you soar from this passing dread.

Picture Taken 5.1.08 @ 9:09 AM
Written 10.13.09 @ 11:34 PM

Monday, October 12, 2009

The Child's Face.

The Child's Face

Last night I dreamt I had a child,
Small and newly-born,
But not from my frail womb

He came to me by a brother
Who carried him in his arm
Alongside my bright-eyed nephew

My older kin acted routinely,
But I knew something was different,
This child's face was special and new

So I took him in my arms
Holding our hearts together
And in that moment knew:

He was mine.

Written 10.12.09 @ 9:36 PM

Sunday, October 11, 2009

Genetics and Toxins.

Genetics and Toxins

Genetically broken,
The disease is token
In the very life you lead

Breaking down slowly,
You don't respond wholly
To the very drugs you need

So a new one we'll give
In hopes that you'll live
A little more easily

But careful, brave one,
With this new medicine
And its fluid toxicity.

Picture Taken 6.26.08 @ 10:32 AM
Written 10.11.09 @ 11:34 PM

The Attack and the Decay: Part 7.

The Attack and the Decay: Part 7

[This is the LAST installment of the short story... it was never finished. I hope you enjoyed it in some way...]

The next block is the condemned homeless shelter. Closed those down over a decade ago. They don’t want to encourage reliance on others and the feeling of helplessness. They want people to build their strength. To learn to “fend for themselves” and “build moral character.” But how are they supposed to help themselves when the government has blacklisted them, not allowing them to have jobs, get married, have licenses to conceive. They’re keeping them down and they know it. They like it that way. If they give them no help, no outlet, no support, they know they’ll eventually die off. And then, one less ugly duckling to look after. Only the beautiful healthy offspring to tend to now. I hate that. I hate the government.

That’s why I refuse to give up my work. That’s why I teach. Because public education is the next duckling that’s struggling for food. And the government has taken every opportunity to push its face down in the mud. To cut off any form of support or encouragement. But they haven’t killed us entirely. And with all that I’ve lost, this is the last thing that I have to hold on to. And I plan to hold on until the very end…even if it means that I’ll be given to the sun. I’d rather see my body wither in its presence than willingly give up this fight. Because it comes down to the children. The future. The chance for our old world to be reborn – the one where happiness still existed and love and life prevailed. If I could help in its rebirth, then I’d leave this life in peace.

Edited 10.10.09 @ 11:34 PM
Originally Written 6.28.06 @ 5:41 AM

Saturday, October 10, 2009

The Attack and the Decay: Part 6.

The Attack and the Decay: Part 6

I walk past the criminal facility on the first block. Takes up three total. Seems to be growing more and more every day. What to do with all these criminals, all these “heathens.” Some say kill them, some say leave them to the sun, others say build bigger facilities. I don’t know which is best. Murder…it’s a terrible thing. I can never condone it. But these buildings, growing larger by the minute. Soon there will be more criminals in the world than innocent civilians. Or do we have it all wrong? Are we all criminals, and the ones in those buildings have just been caught? Are we all guilty of one crime or another? Will we all be collected eventually and there will be no innocents left? Nothing but a world of invalids. That would make us easier to control – to overrun and dominate – would it not? Maybe that’s what they want us to think. That we’re poisoned in the mind, unlawful, sinful, terrible creatures. That we need help. And that they are the only ones who can help us be rid of this plague that we have. Would I be in there soon? The thought scares me.

[...TO BE CONTINUED... only one more installment left...]

Edited 10.9.09 @ 11:52 PM
Originally Written 6.28.06 @ 5:41 AM

Friday, October 9, 2009

The Attack and the Decay: Part 5.

The Attack and the Decay: Part 5

I shower, dress. First undergarments, then slacks, dress shirt. No need for false beauty. No use in playing a doll. Makeup lays untouched. The thought of love’s too painful. Whether it be deep or platonic. So no show to put on. No spectators to be mindful of. I am me. That’s all that matters. Before I leave the quarters, I carefully spray myself in three heavy layers of sun-retardant cover. Grabbing my sun-suit, I exit the building. “Mindful of the sun. And carry on. Carry on.”

It could melt your skin like butter in a frying pan. I never used to believe that old wise-tale. Thought it was just another government ploy to control the masses and poison our minds. That is, until I witnessed it. The most horrifying sight my eyes had ever seen. A man – poor, disheveled, dressed in nothing but rags – leapt into the heat. Penniless and unable to afford the government’s fancy sun-suits. No cover, not even a foolish attempt at using waste bags to hang over his skin, as others had unwittingly done and failed at. And he disintegrated. Right before my eyes. First his hair, like a flaming torch. Then his eyes, which fell from his sockets and melted before they reached the length of his chest. His leathery skin withered away in a matter of seconds. The sun so hot that it didn’t even leave his bodily fluids behind. It was all evaporated, and nothing but the driest of ashes from his bones lay behind. Even those quickly scattered in the sweltering wind and heat. Never again did I doubt the need for sun-retardant cover or suits. Maybe the government did have motives. But obviously, if I wanted to stay alive, I had to play into them.


Edited 10.8.09 @ 11:55 PM
Originally Written 6.28.06 @ 5:41 AM

Thursday, October 8, 2009

The Attack and the Decay: Part 4.

The Attack and the Decay: Part 4

EVERYDAY HAS A BEAT. A pulse. A rhythm. Sometimes I’m in sync with it. Other times I struggle just to move the many bones within my body. Sometimes I ache. Sometimes it’s physical. Many times it’s emotional. But I’ve carried it for so long that it’s ordinary to me. It’s a part of my life. I don’t think I’d feel complete without it anymore. It’s replaced the feeling of happiness that they could once provide me. If I don’t have this aching, I feel as if I have nothing. It’s my key to the door of my past; the link to the chains that surrounded my childhood. And no matter how hard it pulled me or choked me, I couldn’t give it up. It caused me pain, yes. But only because that connection once gave me so much happiness. That’s how it is with anything in life. The purest, most satisfying things are the coldest and most painful to look at once they’re no longer in your possession. But is it better to feel that pain in exchange for that one moment of pure bliss; or is it better to pass it by – unscathed, untouched, and ignorant to such contentment in the world? Is one-time love better than none at all? My mind wanders back and forth, and I can never choose a side. So I try to remain neutral…or at least appear so.


Edited 10.7.09 @ 11:51 PM

Originally Written 6.28.06 @ 5:41 AM

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

The Attack and the Decay: Part 3.

The Attack and the Decay: Part 3

I place the O2 Meter on the tip of my rough index finger. It’s formed a callous over the years. Beep, beep, beep. Oxygen: 92. Heart rate: 132.

Damn, it’s sped up again.

I pop two green pills and swallow them dry. I never could do that as a child. I used to be frightened that I’d choke without a liquid to supplement them. But now I do not care. Death does not scare me much anymore. It’s a given. I am going to die, I am going to die. What worries me: my former life and those whom I once had.

Will any of them know? Will they care?

And then I see something I did not think of before.

What if one of them has died? What if all of them have? And I never knew.

Those are the thoughts that frighten me. Not ones of death. But ones of my former self. My former being. My former happiness. Everything I left behind. But another time for that. “Carry on. Carry on.”

I sit within my medic-chair and complete the morning regiment. Three Inhalants: 3 minutes, Vibration Cycle: 2 minutes, Pulmonary Cleansing Cycle: 5 minutes. In a matter of ten-minutes time, I am ready to begin my day. I remember when such tasks would last for one whole hour. Back when I lived with them still. Before the time of global corruption. When all we had to worry about were “terrorist attacks,” “weapons of mass destruction,” and a world leader who couldn’t pronounce “strategy.” I’d give anything for those foolish, innocent times. Because though the world seemed crazy, we hadn’t realized the destruction that lay ahead. And at the time, I had them to help me through it. They were there to guide me, love me, teach me. But now the world is shattering – breaking in every direction. The worst I’ve ever witnessed it. And they’re not here. Nowhere to be found. But if you asked them, they’d say it was my doing; it was my choice. Which I suppose I can’t deny. But we must all grow up sometime. And in doing so, we give up some of life’s greatest pleasures. They were mine.


Edited 10.6.09 @ 11:55 PM

Originally Written 6.28.06 @ 5:41 AM

Monday, October 5, 2009

The Attack and the Decay: Part 2.

The Attack and the Decay: Part 2

I walk into my personal health clinic, down the hall, second door on the right. It’s homebound. Not many can afford these nowadays. Neither can I. I have connections. Illegal ones. My physical condition required my own health center, but they don’t issue those to single, unaccomplished, poverty-line females, especially if they’re teachers. They don’t want to “encourage the unsanitary moral fabric that public education manifests.” Thus we get no funding, no support, and essentially, the slow decay of life that others are given the right to overcome with modern technologies. They figure if we die off eventually, they’ll control everything soon enough. The chance of revolt will be far slimmer.

But I was never one for politics. I gave them up years ago. After the loss of a lover. One who indulged in them to the fullest. Filled his life with political trifles – all the way to the brim. I used to play the part for him. Dinner parties, soirees, meetings, conferences, campaigns, and the like. I thought at first it was for me. I thought I cared. I thought a difference could be made. But then I saw the light – the kind that’s blinding; that you don’t want to look at but can’t help because its beams are so pervading. And it made me realize that it was all a lie. And with the realization of this truth came the loss of my greatest passion, my greatest love. My first love. But I could not lie to myself – I could not be untrue to the deepest of my core – just for love. Such love cannot defeat the everyday troubles that come with difference in ideals. So I took my separate road. And at the next exit, I left behind my passion and his passion. And never again did I involve myself with politics. It was all a sham. As our love had been.


Edited 10.5.09 @ 9:18 PM

Originally Written 6.28.06 @ 5:41 AM