An experiemental piece of work

I open my eyes to initial darkness. I sense a light switch within reach, but my movement is limited, for I am glued to the floor. It is the floor of my on bedroom that holds me hostage. My eyes adjust to the darkness and I am able to sense the light of a lone candle. It is only illuminating to what is in my surrounding space. The scent is of pomegranate, and although familiar, it only increases my anticipation and fear. The eyes are the only way of knowing. I make out my bed, my furniture, and other material items, but nothing is in reach. The bones in my feet have begun to mesh with the wood in the floor. My feet have now sunken into the ground and I am placed without mobility. I listen for the faintest sound, but there is nothing. I am left to my inevitable silence.

A door resides in front of my presence, and placed upon the door is a full body length mirror. I am forced to gaze back at my reflection. Is it real? I begin to watch the reflection dance and flicker due to the light of the pomegranate candle. My right arm swiftly and effortlessly lifted to the glass in one fluid motion. My finger reaches out to touch the image reflected in the glass, and upon experiencing contact the image begins to glow. I continue to gaze, and I subconsciously bite my lower lip. The image in the glass does not repeat my action, but instead begins to grimace as blood now drips from her lip.

The glowing image with blood trickling down its lip instills a distinct emotion. I trace the outline of myself as a child. I am alone and an open gash on my upper thigh prohibits my movement. The blood has instilled a lasting fear that will never leave me. It is quiet, and I begin to cry. I cry because of pain and I cry because I am alone. I want nothing more than for another human being to be with me. I need to grasp a hand, to hear a voice, to smell something other than my own blood. I am wet from my tears and my leg is soaking in the thick red water. I desire a mothers touch and without it the pain intensifies.

It was my sister that came to my rescue, my sister. I flash forward and the roles have reversed. The room is crowded and I am facing the wall. My own hand is intertwined with my sisters, but my eyes are unable to glace behind to view the birth and beginning of creation. As I grasp her hand within my own I can sense the pain and energy being drained into my palm. There are connections to memories that I have never before noticed. My fear of blood, my desire and need for physical touch, and my need for love. It all begins to make unusual sense, but I still desperately need something more, for I am internally empty.

After the intensity settles and I am finally left to myself, I walk to the bathroom and my tired face is staring back at me in the mirror. I brush my hair away from my cheek with the side of my hands, and with that swift motion, the aroma of pomegranates enters my body once again. I am still staring at the reflection and I hope my eyes will deceive me. My stomach begins to churn and my emptiness dwells with in me. I begin to vomit violently. I collapse helplessly and drift to dream while the pomegranates fade, dance and sew the empty seam.

I am standing in my bedroom. The sweet aroma that follows me has dispersed through my surroundings. My twisted reflection still remains to block me from my escape. I stare at her bleeding lip and at her upsetting appearance. It is my face, but not my emotion, and although my emptiness has not yet been filled, repairs have commenced. I have several answers to what was previously unknown. My fear of the reflection and her bleeding lip is a direct effect derived from experience. I understand why my love is unconditional and why my need for others is so vital.
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I turn my head to the window. Light from the sun has enhanced the darkness of my bedroom. I am now able to remove my feet from the Velcro floor. I am both refreshed and exhausted all in one. I swiftly grab my keys and run to my car. I quickly throw my keys in the ignition and roll my windows down. I insert my favorite music and I drive alone until my perception of the world in this moment is no longer vague.

Tres cuentos, poemas, y emociones

Mi matrimonio

estoy casada con una palabra. una persona. un sentimiento.me canso de la presion. quiero llenar este vacio y volver a mis raices.voy a caer en el ciclo. otra vez. estoy deprimida a causa de los eventos que pasan y occuren.yo se que DEBO ser feliz y yo DEBO ser contenta.yo quiero vivir libre. sin duda. sin presion. y sin la idea que yo TENGO que hacer lo que los demas me piden.


estoy enamorada, pero no estoy enamorada con mi vida ....con la vida del futuro que estoy esperando a vivir. voy a conocer a alguien o algo que pueda comprenderme. yo voy a escaparme de las emociones fuertes y las pensemientos peligrosas....pero primero yo tengo que esperar. hay personas que yo he dado promesas. yo tengo que llenar las promesas antes de que yo pueda salir. estoy casada con mi vida y con los elementos de mi vida. no hay razon. mi matrimonio con las senimientos de la culpa van a morrir. una dia yo voy a sentir ninguna presion o peso en mi pecho. no voy a llorar por las emociones pasados y voy a vivir en mi realidad.

no hay accentos por algunos palabras.


Alfligida

Todo esta cambiando
Estoy cansada y mi cuerpo tiene frío.
Este vacío que ha entrada en mi alma me mata.

Como una mariposa sin alas, mi vida esta rota.
Esperando....pero nunca encontrando una vida más rica.
Todo que tengo es una cara faltando el color y las palabras.

Y las palabras me duelen.
Yo creo que es mejor que yo no digo nada.
Pero la boca esta abierta y las palabras salen.
Como un anímal feroz
Las palabras y los pensamientos vuelan y me cortan.
Ellos encuentran el vacío y hacen una casa rota.

Los elementos de vida son imposibles de alcanzar y no puedo creerlo
Llego a ser una persona muerta y rota.
Pero no es raro y no es la primera vez.

Sin Razon

Como el ciclo del sol y la luna, mi alma sigue una calle muy largo. Encontro differencias cada dia. Estoy cambiando todo el tiempo. Cuando vas a encontrarme? Cuando vas a decirme que yo debo hacer? Todo que yo oigo es el taciturno. Yo estoy preocupada por el futuro, la corazon, el mente, y mi vida.Todo de los elementos estan mezclado en un lago pequeno y puro. Mi alma esta perdido en este lago entre la verlad y la realidad falso. Mientras la cuerpa fisical es expectado que mantener una cara compuesto. Yo estoy esperando para algo y yo quiero que tu llegues muy pronto.

I don't seem to like

guacamole.
alchoholics.
losers.
bad procrastinators.
druggies.
big cats.
bitches
fake dissorders for attention.
controlling assholes.
never having kaitlyn time.
jerks.
manipulative words
manipulative people.
drama queens.
dramatic whores.
crazies.
friend suckers
fish.bad
energy.
high school.
fake friends.
anxiety.
being stepped on by everyone.
being critisized for being assertive or making a positive change.
being used.confrontation.
uneccesary confrontation.
failing papers.

new =)

I sit here now.
Reading these past blogs.
I'm different now...last post was...who knows how long ago.


I'm cleansed of several bad "influences" as of now.
Friend is a cheap word and used too often...and many people are just looking out for number 1.
but that's okay =)
because maybe it's time i looked out for myself.
in a postive way.

Hopefully, i'll be writing some new blogs and poetry.
that are a little less morbid and dark..but idk.
but i'm busy at the moment so and don't have a lot of time to worry about it
.....so it might be a while.

(which is code for when the musical is over) =P