Bone Palace Ballet;

Tue, 08 Jan 2008 21:47:31 GMT

wow. it's been a long time. i'm finally at the point where i can post here again without getting myself upset over you. thank you alice for inspiring me.

curled like children into each other against the cold, we're talking seinfeld and buffy and people we know. we finally talk about the money problem. i kiss your wrist that just so happens to be right next to my cheek. your grip on me grows tighter. i can almost feel it in my bones, it's starting to snow. i can feel you in my bones, seeping into the cracks. we hold each other so close under my fluffy blanket (protecting each other from the cold, and other things), shivering against each other and talking until dawn. the cars move by like crashing waves right outside our window and the sound lulls us to sleep.

Unrequited.

Sun, 18 Nov 2007 01:18:38 GMT

This is dedicated to a girl that makes my heart soar so high and sink so low, but should never know that this is for her.

Sometimes I feel
As though your kiss
Could be my salvation.

And I feel so...
Confused, is it?
And I feel so...
Lost, without reason,
And empty.

I know, I know,
You will never
Care for me
As I so
Care for you.
Debate this
As we often do.

And I know,
Yes, I know,
This is simply
Not me.

This is someone
New, overtaking
The Julianna I
Once knew.
And I hate this.

This lonely girl,
Craving only
Your attention,
Your affection.

I don't know
If you know
Just how
Beautiful
You are.

You are my
Ultimate vision
Of perfection.
You
And your
Soft lips.
Your soft hands.
So delightfully
Feminine, yet
With admirable
Strength.

He sees it, too.
I know, I know,
The one you
Call your lover.
The one with
His ring
On your finger.
Oh, how my
Jealousy can soar.

Yet, at last I feel
As though this...
This obsession...
This may, at long,
Long last be coming
To a halt.
Desires ceasing
To exist.
Finally.

I will always love you.
But hopefully...
Oh, god, hopefully...
As no more than
A friend.

And when next
Our lips do meet...
And I know, I know...
When it means nothing
To you, I can only pray
That I can feel
The same.

Love,
Julianna Belle.
(x-posted from archangels)

BRAVE NEW WORLD.

Tue, 19 Jun 2007 13:32:28 GMT

hello i'm new.
i'll share about myself in time to come, i guess.

i write random things when i feel things, and i transform them into poems/lyrics/whatever.
then sometimes i contribute some of the lyrics to my friend's band.
this is a pretty old one, i wrote it after losing my pillars to various causes.
it became pretty popular after it was realised into a song.
maybe it'll reach out to you guys too

Ghosts to Loved Ones

Right now you lie there dreaming
See me by your side
Watching your eyes flicker
Your dreams and fears speaking
And here I am listening
Touching your face but you won't know
And when you wake you feel alone

The moon is setting
My soul is breaking
I'm calling
But your heart isn't stirring
Because I'm no longer aglow

I'm sitting here watching
You go through the days like an empty shell
I'm walking behind you praying
That you'd stop wishing I was still here
I'm always drifting by you
Whispering secrets of the world beyond to you
But all this you can't hear

But you know you're not alone

Right now I head to heaven
I'll come back later
With ghostly arms wide open
I'll hold you safe while you fight life
I just know you can survive
And maybe one day you'll feel again

The sun is rising
Your soul is waking
I'm waving
You're getting ready
For another day to begin

I'm sitting here watching
You go through the days like an empty shell
I'm walking behind you praying
That you'd stop wishing I was still here
I'm always drifting by you
Whispering secrets of the world beyond to you
But all this you can't hear

But you know you're not alone
Because I'll never let you go

Thu, 19 Apr 2007 23:43:20 GMT

I am posting pictures instead, cause I don't want to rewrite these.

...open bloodshot eyes...

Tue, 13 Mar 2007 01:50:56 GMT

Save our souls
Our fixations
Our tragedies
Pretend it’s worthwhile
It’s worth something
So that it’s possible to get through the day
These minutes hours seconds
Pretend I’m more than a body
That I have a soul to be saved in the first place
It’s far too cliché to say that I loved
Far worse to say I loved and lost
So instead I will recount
That night,
Or early morning
It is in those details
Where you find my voice
The staccato of the trembling
It is the details
That matter most
Because they are all we ever really have
The sixty eight stars that I can see from my rooftop
The seventeen fireflies I’ve caught in my life
I have kept records of the days since you left
Because that’s what it was
Leaving
And they say it wasn’t about me
That it never was
But the fact that your words are stained
into the deepest layers of my flesh
Say otherwise
And It pains me
To admit to myself
That when it really boils down
To the bottom of the pot
When the water evaporates
And the flame is eating through the metal
That maybe It doesn’t matter
And it is overbearing
that they don’t understand
Don’t comprehend these spheres
In an infinite arena
some endless cacophony
yet all I hear is my heart
Thumping somewhere in my chest
And all I feel is the cold air keeping me from sleep
They say, they promise
It will get better
Something about time and wounds
But that’s the point
It hasn’t
Days months years
And it hasn’t
And it’s too cliché to say I love you
But I whisper it anyway
On some air current
Flowing past my window
And I pray to a god I know isn’t real
That it will find you.

ugh...seriously?

Mon, 12 Mar 2007 02:17:24 GMT

tell me that you miss me, that i was more than just a passerby in your life, that it was not so easy to discard of me and throw trash at my name. i would tell you that while you were a meteor hitting my planet, you were nothing more than somebody to clutch on to and drag me through this life. yes, i am but a leech. i suck myself to your heart and watch as you fall madly in love with me in any possible way that you are capable of. i can return the emotion but only with such a disdainful sigh and some pitiful hope that this wont last longer than the last body to carry me. i can return the emotion but there is some visible strain that you can see in my eyes, in my pulse, in the blood that runs through me. my heart never beats fast for somebody that loves me, only for those that don't offer enough for me to latch on.
i know that your life is void and empty and you have no one but a boy that i'm sure stays with you only because you demand it of him. i know that i was somebody you wanted to love for an entire lifetime but gave up far too easily out of anger. you came to the realisation that i could leave you far too easily, without much care, that i could throw you out in the street with nothing more than a shove and a slam of the door. and yes, i would say i was sorry for all the things that i've done, but trash is trash and it all ends up in the same place, so what does it matter when you throw it out? in the bellies of ravens and seagulls turned into shit on the surface, in the ground beneath our feet, in the mouths of the hungry and shelterless.
you can pretend that these words don't mean a thing to you and continue slaughtering your memory of me but at least know that i know you better than anyone else in your entire life, because through out those amount of months we spent together, you exposed more than you were comfortable with, more than you knew. your weaknesses, your strengths, every thought you had became mine and buried deep inside my toes, filling me up until the next person but it will always be there. there will always be shards of you in me, cutting me open slowly.
there will be no remorse, though. there will be no regrets, no apologies, not a single sorry word will leave these lips when they speak your name.

...ezra pound will sit upon your bed...

Wed, 24 Jan 2007 02:20:09 GMT

So, I have tonnes of art that I don't really post much here...because I see it as more of journal related, but I guess after crow's post I will make an entry. So I'm sorry if some of this isn't applicable to this community.
Err...enjoy I suppose.

Wed, 24 Jan 2007 00:40:28 GMT

Soooooo.

I've been mod of this community going on 2 years and I'm seriously saddened that it rarely gets updated. I barely write anymore so I realize I'm not helping any but I do care about this place. When I first became mod it was to keep this place going and it was doing pretty well for about eight months.. but then it slowly ended up to its current state. However, this IS a great place. A lot of talent. A lot of heart. A lot of amazing and compassionate people.

So tell me, what went wrong? How do we save this place? Because I'm willing to fight for it, I just need a little help. /dramatic

Thanks,
Kath

life on repeat.

Fri, 22 Dec 2006 16:04:16 GMT

your eyes soak your chest when
life is see-through
and you can see through
the eyes of your
hips
one on each side
for each time you decide
you deserve it
choking on "it's okay"s &
knowing tomorrow is just
another day, but
i'm slipping
i'm slipping
& someday i'll slip away
fade away
melt into the ground you walk on everday
the pavement with
the spilt milk,
the dead eyes & the raindrops
the rain
drops
& the
world stops
dont cry over the milk i spilled back then,
or
what i threw up into the air
back when
we all make mistakes
and sometimes
someone breaks
away
leads the way
or maybe they just
leave you behind, but
"it's okay"
"it's okay"
because,
life loops around
& i'm slipping, melting, driving myself
back into the ground
into
the
rain drops
& life stops
for a moment
you're dead now,
you've been cold for awhile
but
"it's okay"
"it's okay"
"it's okay"
leaders break away &
suns
break night
with day

Tue, 14 Nov 2006 14:03:21 GMT

she stares at her reflection
capturing the beauty shes making up for herself
because it's not really there
(17/11/04)

in a world of pink & blue thoughts,
everything has suddenly taken on this shade of grey.
its a shade that breaks your heart into a million peices,
a shade that you've never experienced before
(06/14/05)

blankly staring into the eyes of her future
she returns to sip her coffee.
cold
(21/05/05)

ive got stains on all my shoes
id like to buy a whole new me
to reinvent
rediscover
redefine
(14/12/05)

my man is
complete laughter.
soft.gentle.tender.
with a delicate touch.
intelligent with brillant eyes.
mysterious?
trusting.
trustworthy.
silky whispers at night under seductive blankets.
joint attached to his hip.
a face of smiles.
a heart of gold.
hand holder.
devilish showers midday
early morning coffees
& late night love making
(04/08/06)

words refuse to describe all the loneliness i feel right now.
shes dancing to the beat of the music everything single night
while i wrap myself in a blanket
hoping no tears will come tonight
(09/08/06)

she sits on the edge
watching the world fly by.
shes continuously falling a step behind
but no one really notices
(03/10/06)

she'd like to hop on a bus
just to see where it takes her.
her suitcase remains empty because shes not sure what she can leave behind.
she needs to dye her hair brown
& get her tongue pierced
because for some reason that'll make her a different person
(12/10/06)

my
insides
are
drying
up
(14/11/06)

endings/beginnings

Mon, 16 Oct 2006 20:05:11 GMT

A piece I wrote last week in the midst of thinking about death (life ending) and new/progressing friendships/relationships (life beginning)...take it or leave it <3

One thing ends
Another begins
The death of love
Husband
Father
Son

The birth of love?
Walking
Two by two
In the morning sun
All the time in the world

Its just a cycle
I suppose
Of
Coming and going
Life and death
Beginning and end
Yet what perplexes
Is a simulataneous
Celebration

Of
Two new 'lives'
One in Heaven
One on Earth
Yet also a
Time of
Grieving
But
Also rejoicing?
How does the heart
The soul
Grasp such a paradox?
I know not.

Mon, 02 Oct 2006 15:12:29 GMT

there's a bow in my hair, and a lighter in my pocket.
i cried when i woke up today.
I don't know why i woke up thinking of you.
because you always knew what i should say
and you never knew what you should do
and i'd never say it anyway,
but I was there to hold you when you needed me to.

and it's frustrating when i'm waiting outside,
because you're having so much fun in there.
and i wonder how you'd feel on the other side,
if i left , would you really care...

would you....
would you pretend to care....

maybe i should run.
should i run until the clouds turn to me for light
until i'm swimming in the stars of night and screaming at the rain...
i wonder if you'd pretend to care.
i wonder if you'd be there to wave your white hankerchief and bid me adeu.
it'd be better if i didn't wake up thinking of you.

New member.

Wed, 20 Sep 2006 14:31:25 GMT

I, too, have been watching this community for a while, and I finally decided to join.
So, hello comminity, I'm Ciera. Here is my first piece of poetry.

These walls are not my beloved grey nor are the sheets and pillows satin.
Light trickles through the slated blinds illuminating the room just enough to show I am not alone.
The cobwebs start to clear my mind; It wasn't a dream after all: the three hour train and the hour long bus ride
For someone I barely know.

much like death

Tue, 19 Sep 2006 20:50:10 GMT

A poem I wrote about a friend of mine who had to pull out of my college recently...don't worry, no one's actually dead :)

It is much like death
This separation
You walked in our world one moment
And fell from it the next

There's denial
I keep thinking
I'll see you
In the ordinary
Everyday
Routine places of
my journey:
Libraries
Coffee spots
Sidewalks
Tos and froms
Comings and goings

But I walk those places
Libraries
Coffee spots
And in each one
There is a hole
In the spots where
You always
Sat,
Stood,
Were.

It is much like death
This separation
Even though
You're a
Phone call away
No phone call
Can bring you back
Where you belong
Here

It is much like death
So permenant
Dark
A shadow cast over me
Opressing any gleam of light
No phone call, email, letter
Can lift the darkness entirely
It is much like death

an oldie!

Sat, 16 Sep 2006 02:01:24 GMT

They will say
We loved through train windows
That we sighed through floral bedroom sheets
And I will reply that I do not understand
Your afternoon laugh
Or her jutting hipbones, raw with pleasure
Or the electricity in this September garden
(I stand watching the flowers in the wallpaper blossom:)
They will have said, then, that we drown our sorrows
in pallid walls and the sugary blues of the bruises on our thighs
and I will reply, again and again and again,
That I cannot bleed tonight
They were always unable to discern the poetry from the violence.

mod-post

Sat, 16 Sep 2006 01:56:28 GMT

Any ideas how to make this place active again? Any ideas at all? I am open to anything and everything at this point. Any idea how to get more members to join and more members to post comments that either praise or constructively and tactfully offer criticism or ways to improve? Over a year ago we were able to revive this place - and honestly I love it here, even though I have barely posted anything (and what I do post is well.. nothing serious).

So, members, HELP.

my gas tank is on E, but i always get home on a prayer.

Sun, 03 Sep 2006 02:37:47 GMT

falling, falling falling,
staring at my feet
i would look into your eyes
but you'd see i'm incomplete
and as everything around me blurrs
the knot gets tighter still
with each day, a new hinderance occurs,
diminishing my will.

I'm not just sad, this is so real,
i can't get a break,
there is no deal to make.
everything is genuinely bad,
and i'm feeling more lost,
but a little less sad,
because as I continue to fall,
I can't feel anything at all.
.......................................................................................................
Even in the dark, there's an unspoken glow in her eyes.
There's something happening there, as beautiful as the sunrise.
Something in that song that makes her spirit fly,
I say I want to vomit but I really want to cry.

There's a beauty in the stars, they're shining bright tonight,
Our cherries light the pavement, not a city light in sight.
I'm thinking of the times we all have had here being young,
and how our grown up lives have barely just begun.

And pursuing dreams and finding love are somewhere in the mix
of our future when we separate , *i hope we remember this*
This night when all we worry about is the right words to the song,
(We'll eventually remember as we lay here all night long.)

I wonder if I'll make it through this next year all alone,
If I will dig up my suit and running shoes or just cry to her on the phone,
If I will run around and giggle with a ribbon in my hair,
or if I bust out dreads and tee shirt tanks and embrace the awkward stares.

I hope he finds a girl with the same ideals as he,
and I hope he makes it big time playing songs, and just maybe,
she will find the one and fall so hard, she just can't walk away,
and someday when we're far away, I hope we remember this day.

first post

Sat, 19 Aug 2006 23:51:50 GMT

i've been reading these for a while and i felt it was time to make my presence known.

take me out of the rain
take me out of my bed
tell me that i'm scared
tell me that i'm losing my cool
i know i'm seeing two
turn me inside out
shake my body fast
now who's shaking fast
tell me who wanted who first
and who wants who the worst
breathe in breathe twice
breathe in breathe twice

pull my hair out from the roots
hold me i'm cold
goosebumps on my arms
tell me that i'm cold
that's what you've been told
breathe in breathe twice
breathe in breathe twice
tell me that you never wanted something new
tell me that i never wanted you

feedback or talking or anything is wonderful. i adore people.

reasons for you

Sun, 13 Aug 2006 15:22:06 GMT

Maybe you're once in a lifetime. Maybe you were just passing by and took a detour through my life. And you stopped, perhaps out of curiousity or destiny, and somehow liked what you saw--and all of a sudden my heart became your home. Maybe you were a lesson I had to learn. That someone wonderful could see what I had to offer, that someone could see past my imperfections and insecurities, and not be thrown. That it was possible to laigh and share freely--without ulterior motive or fear. That I could become close to someone so different. Perhaps your presence was a taste of things to come...For a time I knew what "real" possibility was...Perhaps you were a sign of hope to cling to, that I won't always walk alone. Maybe you were a passing blessing, to remind me of a Great Presence in this life. But whatever your purpose is, was, will be...I know that I am bettered: that I treasure things more closely, that beauty is fleeting but not impossible, that I have a little more faith in myself than I used to...and even if you were only once in a lifetime,you make a lifetime worth waiting for. Thank you.

New member

Mon, 31 Jul 2006 02:21:13 GMT

I feel like I should apologize in advance, but... I don't have much to say these days :X I have read previous posts though, and I will continue to do so.

Me drawing maps in my head so I could find someone,
attempting to follow my own steps, to see if I missed something along the way.
My loneliness at its expiration date.
Hollow.
My old musings,
appearing trivial.
(Did I not do this? Retrace the very steps I took to get to you in the first place?
You told me you needed her,
I told you I could be her.)

You leaning back, tilting your head onto my lap,
whispering
I wish it could stay this way forever.
The straws dancing next to our naked feet,
rays of sunshine sparkling across the wide sky,
&us loving every minute of a timeless countdown.

.

Open spaces,
filled with dimmed cries of paranoia,
tainted hope.
Empty fullfillment.
I'll wear a girly skirt for you,
as your masked emotions riddles me into oblivion.
We are together, but we are miles apart,
We breathe the same air,
still, I miss you.
Me, telling you how I would kill poetry for the nearness of your soul,
asking if it would be worth it,
if you could love me just as easily as you could leave me behind without a word,
and you not denying nor confirming either.

.

A cold light shining down on us at dusk,
I left him behind,
not even knowing his name, but I knew
I would never hear from him again.

I lay my head down
in the sand,
as I collect seaglass
with my hands.

I want to breathe, to feel, to give and to yearn for something worth yearning for.

my first post.

Tue, 25 Jul 2006 01:47:56 GMT

I joined this community some time ago and have only been watching, but I feel like it's time for me to contribute somehow.

I was going to somewhat introduce myself, but decided that the work should just speak for itself. Some random pieces:

There's something sour accumulating here - something sickly green and sticking to the roof of your mouth. And to her fingertips, as she pries your jaws open to pull out terracotta vowels, frail and cracked and still straining for, straining for, straining for what? -- That certain je ne sais quoi. Though your tongue curls and bends with taffy-puller ease, it's your throat that stops you, it's the syllables caught between your tonsils and your lost resolve.

There's something twisted turning here - something in your eyes pulling back with rubber band tension ready to snap. And you close your lids to hide your quaking windows and you feel around with your hands, you feel her beg with her longing to understand as sharp as needles -- she whispers bright lightning bolts of "let me in let me in let me in!" Though you're made of clear and cold cold water, her electric prayers fizzle and die the moment they hit your ears.

There's something backwards bending here - something limber and harboring such dirty grace, a tiny gymnast ballerina contortionist weaving its way in and out of your every crevice. And around and around and around it goes, leaving a grey smoky trail around your head down your neck over your stomach between your legs under your feet, until you're cloudy and she cannot see you. You do not swat it away, this inside-out ghost, and what does it remind you of when it enters your mind? Does it sing of loss, mistake, regret in octaves so low that it overruns gravity and lies you flat? Does it wrap you in hymns in a lost language, driving your resistance in deeper with each indecipherable rumble?

And then, she speaks.

She says - This is what hides you. These are your vices, your disguises, your secrets. But dearest, remember, she says - it is like that saying, "How can you hide from what never goes away?" My sweet, take into consideration, she says - there is freedom for those who fight. Darling, darling, fight! You are not alone!

My childhood tastes like Budweiser in a can. In twenty-four cans. In thirty-six more.
My childhood sounds like referees blowing their whistles and holding their arms up for verifications of touchdowns. Horror Mondays sing "Are you ready for some football?!"
My childhood looks like yellow school buses pulling up to peeling white paint over wood walls and sharp chain-link fences cut by pliers.
My childhood feels like sticking to pleather armchairs in triple-digit desert heat and no-longer-cream carpet splattered with kool-aid and bloodstains.
My childhood smells like cigarette smoke and rust from the choke-sputter-spit of the swamp cooler.

My father looks like a five-foot-ten prison ink canvas, salt-and-pepper long hair pulled back into a ponytail and a crooked, cracked smile meant to make you shit your pants.
My father smells like Camel Non-Filters, Brut cologne, and motor oil.
My father sounds like the pseudo-Harley Davidson parked in his front yard, rasping and gasping to grab and hold and run, run, run with it.
My father tastes like dead skin, dirt and sweat and salt on the palms of his calloused hands, his pores still expelling the speed from ten years back.
My father feels like the leather sleeveless vest he would wear back in the day, feels like age and disease and disgust and fraudulence and anger in a burning ball.

My mother smells like Hawaiian Ginger and Marlboro Reds, mixed with ammonia from her auburn copper hair dye.
My mother tastes like bread, lunch meat and an overabundance of mustard, of pork chops once a week.
My mother sounds like the rushing river wearing down rock, taking bits and pieces of debris along with her on her way to ocean dump, sounds like a song with every existing instrument playing their own tune in their own time.
My mother feels like dead skin on all ten knuckles, red and torn from punching walls on Independence Day, feels like fried but tame hair.
My mother looks like bags under glossy and distant eyes, looks like skin and bone, looks like a thin, cracked, hollow tree trunk.

And I.

I smell like cigarette smoke - Camel Non-Filters, Marlboro Reds, like Hawaiian Ginger and ammonia, rust, and motor oil.
I also smell like milk and honey, of passion fruit, of salty tears and discontent.
I sound like a rushing river towards an ocean dump, of an overabundant instrumental tune, of whistles and motorcycles with engines screaming run, run, run with it.
I also sound like a mezzo-soprano clearing her throat far too often, a child giggling, a dictionary, a Danielle Steele novel, a Bukowski poem, and discontent.
I taste like makeshift sandwiches, salty and sweaty palms, like tin cans.
I also taste like green tea and coffee, cinnamon frozen chai, like a kiss - two kisses - three kisses - more, like words too tough to speak so they're swallowed down sour, like discontent.
I feel like dead skin, like stained carpet, like perspiring legs to plastic couches, like a burning ball.
I also feel like a tornado, a hurricane storming, swarming bees, like acoustic guitar string frequencies bending to my discontent.
I look like his ponytail and his cracked, crooked, awkwardly fierce smile. Like her distant eyes, her jutting bones, her hollow center.
I also look like a worn-out ballerina, an actor squinting in stage lights too bright, like the battle wounds on my thighs, and like his, her, your, their, our, my my my discontent.

She says she thinks she's losing it.

She says her stomach is queasy today because she drank something like five beers in an hour; she says she was alone. She says she would've rather had the room spinning than her head running laps, going around in circles like it was. She says she sat naked straddling the sides of a toilet, her head lying on the toilet seat, throat burning, lungs closing, praying for sleep.

She says she doesn't get it. She says that the hustle-and-bustle isn't all it's cracked up to be. She says it's terrifying, she says it's too hard for a girl like her to grasp.

She says, don't ask what she means by "a girl like her."
She says she can't explain.

says she's going out tonight, she's always had a problem with saying no. She says her body's gonna hate her but she lets her mind shut down too easily. She says it's been off for a while.

She says she doesn't know just what she's doing. She says she's been wasting time, killing time, waiting away time for something that's just not gonna show.

And then, she looks at me, she looks at me past the glare with her ocean eyes, and she asks me, "What do you think?"

I shake my head and say, "I know you all too well."

Then I get up, open the door, and prepare for the worst.

Any feedback is welcome and greatly appreciated!!

Deux.

Mon, 24 Jul 2006 21:32:52 GMT

I.

All of you -
You left your mark on me.
Your hands, your sickness.
I can never again be clean.
And I cried today, for all of you.
Those who strived so damned hard
Just to hurt me.

An unwanted touch.
More than one,
To be exact.
I have forgotten
How to count, but
I know that one
Is more than enough.

Men.
In all of their glory.
They repulse me.
Is this
What you wanted?!
Because it's what I got.
I am stricken.
And this disease
Shall overcome me.

This is not love.
This is digsust.
Anguish.
This is the elegy
Of a once bright
And vibrant girl,
Destroyed
As a casualty of
The testosterone revolution.

So jaded, so soon, so sad;
Am I right?
Fuck your ignorance.
Fuck your ideas.
Fuck your excuses.
Just leave me out of it.

II.

Calories down the line,
Every day, like a
Hail Mary down
The roasry.

Our Father,
As she disappears,
She is called upon by
A physical, literal
Gut feeling.

THIRTY-FIVE POUNDS:
So far, so good?
Not good enough -
Better cannot be her best,
And her best will never
Be adequate for her own eyes.

Her own eyes,
As the tears slowly begin
To accumulate,
Again,
She runs from the machines
With the numbers
That can never please.
And, oh! How weak?!
Diet means that you
Still may eat.

She is blinded to herself,
But the compliments keep coming.
But she doesn't believe a word,
And she. won't. stop.

Sorry, she is.
But, it's not enough.
Not until she's beautiful.
Not until she can have it all.

I am really fucking sorry.
Love, Julianna Belle.

(x-posted to archangels)

before and now

Thu, 20 Jul 2006 13:43:49 GMT

You always smiled
But you saved
A particular one
For rainy days
For me

You had a warmth about you
But it seemed
Particularly obvious
In the darkest hours
Of my being
Just enough

There was magic
Thick as blood
Strong
So much I could
Almost taste it
I saw it
In your eyes

There was hope
Until the very end
The air about you
Seemed to shift
And your smile
Felt less sincere
Distant was the warmth
So familiar
A vauge chill now resides

Now
You're out of reach
But the magic
Is still as thick
And powerful
At least for me
But your eyes
Are silent now

What happened between
Before
And
Now?

Sat, 01 Jul 2006 22:37:54 GMT

it is the way his jaw moves as he kisses me, the way his arms are my blanket. it is the way he speaks to me softly whenever we are alone. his hands envelope mine, provide a barrier against the snow and winds.

it is the way he looks at me in the dark while our bodies move together that makes me cringe and turn away in disgust; in regret; in love.

A Poem.

Wed, 14 Jun 2006 23:50:40 GMT

I have spent hours
Days, months
Trying to define the curve
Of your body
When it’s too warm outside
To move
Or even think about leaving
Your arms
I sometimes throw
my words at you
in clusters
And watch you spin through them
I hug your bones and
Kiss them
late at night
When the air is silent
And still
There are so many
Unturned phrases
That I wish I would have
Uttered
When the moon was in
A different stage
When the flowers burned bright
Rather than sat
Faded
Staring at me
With disappointment
Tied around their stems
Like ribbons