... brick

bold, burnt and rough. piece by piece we build these walls around our hearts, our fears, our dreams, all of our vulnerability is hidden beneath this chalky and brash covering. no one even likes the look of the things but yet we keep building. keep building.

keep piling the shit on top of itself.

convenience

convene and connive in secret solidarity. move the pieces to your convenience.

... convenience

relationships are always a matter of. demographics. location. timing. whoever is closest. whoever talks first. whoever is willing to open themselves up and make that connection.

that's all love is. a matter of convenience.

... fabric

sewn together, piece by piece and thread by thread turning and twisting around each and every one of us lonely dreamers trying to create something bigger and better than each of us as tragic individuals and i wrap myself up in this cloak that seems to hide me from everyone and everything and remember what it was like when i didn't feel so alone.

... direct

my intentions and words were always this way with that infinite "he." it's a shame they are never any match for me. and that i trample over their hearts... leaving them broken and still longing.

and leaving me
still to be

... alone.

spare

spare my life. take it upon yourself to ease my the pain that you insist upon inflicting. this may not be a physical death. no. but it will be an emotional death, if you refuse my pleas to stay.

... spare

i don't need the details at all... but lord do i love them. being able to piece together a more complete mental image really does solidify all of the random, fleeting thoughts the imagination can come up with.

... surface

it's all hiding right below the surface of my everyday interactions with the people in my life. some sub-plot. some mystery to uncover. some puzzle to solve. then i'll understand it all and maybe even be happier and better off. maybe.

but what if the hokey pokey is what it's all about?

... blender

mixed drinks. limes, lemons, cherries and all the other cute touches we add to our alcoholic escapes. summer time. poolside. tanned bodies that make me feel bad about my white, freckled stomach.

it's only july 5th and my summer is over.

blender

sunday morning I was washing the blender... actually, it was more of a rinsing with a quick wipe down... and I jabbed my right ring finger down upon the vortex blade. It sliced deep into my fingertip and underneath my fingernail.

... urge

we gently urge you to hold onto the guard rail as you are gliding through this tunnel. we more actively encourage you to hold your tongue as you bite your bottom lip, avoid eye contact and contemplate the floor. please.

it will be better for everyone this way.

... wary

of leaving? maybe.

but in the same sense i am wary of staying. never knowing. never living. somewhere else. anywhere else. the signs are all there. the need is there. the means, the opportunity... everything.

but the fear and doubt... it's still there too.

... widespread

horizons drip and leak all over me as i look through the thousands of miles of places i dream of yet refuse to make my reality and my panoramic view is ruined by my own insecurities. someday i'll look without longing. i'll look with satisfaction that i made them mine.

* i was first on this one! yay, me!

... appeal

the thought of giving up on love really does not appeal to me. really it doesn't. but i know that deep down, this is what i have to do. i have to push it out of the forefront of my brain and make some fucking effort in regards to the other things i want out of life. if you do what you really love... the love should follow.

... know

"i know, i know, i know."

"you always do this! it's not cute anymore!"

"well... if you KNOW i'm just going to be this way, then why don't you just stop getting your hopes up that i'll change and find someone who will do everything your way."

"i don't know."

model

perfection to scale. we strive and we fail. pounding each nail. with each clumsy stroke. the nail bends and pokes. the model broke.

... model

a long time ago i vowed to dedicate my life to magic and the intangible. i sought out the moments of light and love and silly things... and still do. i model my dreams. my world. my heart.

all after you.

box

jab, jab, hook, side step, bob, right-cross. box in the shape of a box. left foot step forward. right foot step forward and slide to the right. bring left foot in, too. step back with right foot. step back with left foot and slide it to the left. slide right foot left, too. repeat.

... repel

fight me off. protect yourself against me and my kind. your negative energies and boring excuses do nothing short of repel me across the room. i can see it in your eyes, though. how you want nothing more than to be close to me...

but you just won't let it happen.

puppet

I'll gram my hand straight up your ass and move your mouth like my little sock puppet. Say what I want you to say and do what I want you to do. You can not exist apart from my hand.

laser

I send thoughts to you in laser-like pulses from the flashing red terminus of an optical output cable that jacks straight into my cerebrum

soggy

soggy piece of tiramisu / froggy coming after you / wet piece of pie ala mode / get away from the tiny toad

... generation

gaps in between. they make everything so hard. family is so hard.

... thin

thin lizzi? proudly, no...

full. alive. thick, strong and hard in some places. squishy, soft and cuddly in others. my body reflects my life.

and i like that.

... upright

nothing seems to stand up straight anymore. everyone is bent. crooked. beyond repair. because if we tried to straighten it back, the weak points would snap and then what would we be left with?

a bunch of broken pieces of things that never lived up to their potential in the first place...

wild

wildly whipping and whirling and wheeling. frantically tapping and touching and feeling.

hidden

in front of the sky, in front of the clouds / in front of the light, in front of the shrouds/ i see the mystic clarity / the reflection of the hidden sea

... bubblegum

chew. chew. chew. smooth out over tongue. press through teeth. purse lips. blow. go crossed-eyed.

pop.

flush of heat to the cheeks. quick swipe of the hands. i'm sure no one noticed.

... zeal

what an ugly word. almost as ugly as your face. i can't think of anything positive to say about it. i'm sure it can serve its purpose, but i'm going to avoid using it out of aesthetic principle.

... vary

ok. this time we'll change it up. maybe we will get a different outcome.

socially experiment with the lives and relationships you develop without consciously knowing the damage that is done just to test a hypothesis you don't want to know the answer to anyway.

... sight

big eyes. he had such big eyes. you'd think that he'd see more than the rest of us. that somewhere, in those glassy pools of blue... there'd be more.

but there wasn't really anything. just a bigger bit of empty.

... check

a series. with balance. keep yourself together. do your job and remember to always buckle your seatbelt. squat over public toilets. show just enough cleavage without looking like a slut. play it smart. never let them in.

i call bullshit.

... pattern

find a boy. make sure he's a challenge. be your charming self. get inside. fuck him up. fall in love. cry. make him cry. say you're sorry. rinse. repeat.

metaphor

metaphor isn't like a meta-tag. a metaphor is gamera spreading his mothy wings and taking literary flight

shy

shy? fly around the corner and hide. inside where you can't be found. sounds give you away. stay quite and don't breath

... dearest

mommy can i please stay close to you through all of this? i remember when i used to crawl up inside your arms and feel so safe. nothing feels like that anymore. nothing at all.

iron

feel the iron bar clinched in your fists. the nubs of texture providing non-slip grip. lift the loaded bar of the floor. let out a grunt and roar. you have deadlifted 315-pounds and it feels good.

warn

warnings of distant concern echo across the chasm of my conscious. the corpus callosum that separate left and right hemispheres. the echoes fade and the lack of warning is more ominous than the warning itself.

strung

I hung strung like a dead rotting rabbit ready for the stew pot.

lid

take the top of the small goat head and go ahead and get fed by removing the lid to reveal that which is hid... den in the chicken coop where the goats are fed

web

spinning spinning like a spider dangling from her assward spinnerets... she decends and frets about the journey down down to the solid ground

... mirror

who's the fairest?

i was told i need to own it. to love it. embrace it.

don't i already do that? do boys just say that to every girl they see because they think we are all so lacking in self esteem and self love?

why do other girls feel the need to constantly tell me i'm hot and not fat?

am i the only one who looks in the mirror and LIKES what they see?

...

physical appearance pisses me off and is a total waste of time and space. ugh.

mosaic

a grand masterpiece of shattered shards of sharpened shame splattered against the shifting backdrop of senility stealthy sleep

... stitch

i wish that my heart needed to be sewn back together. i see all of these people walking around with the stitches still visible through their chests. deeply wounded. still recovering... well. maybe not wanting to recover.

my heart just seems so boring in comparison.

instruct

instruct destruct deconstruct reconstruct firetruck flyingfuck and beat me with a dead duck until I run out of luck

wax

early in the morning my consciousness waxes like the crescent moon evolving into a fully lit ball of white mooniness. and like the moon, the light of my mind, as it awakes, cast increasingly brilliant moonshadows against the back of my skull.

... concept

trying to conceptualize everything that your heart is trying to accomplish inside your brain is no easy task. a shame that with all the intelligence our minds may have, we can't seem to understand the raw power of that incessant "thump thump."

______

this one surprised me. i never really know what i'm going to get before i press post... so reading it "published" over there at oneword can really knock me on my ass sometimes. the fact that these thoughts exist inside of me without my prior knowledge is inspiring- yet frustrating all at the same time. it makes me wonder if i took more time to randomly write and associate things...

well. maybe my brain would come to understand more of what's beating deep in the core of me. the subconscious is a brilliant and overwhelming idea. especially when taken in the context of jung's "collective." this is one of those times where i think i might have made a bit of a connection.

tapping in. yet feeling tapped out.

... deal

"we don't make deals like that around here. i'm sorry lady... but this is a serious business."

"oh please. every table has something going on underneath it."

"yeah... and in my bar... the only thing is a game of footsie."

deal

deal with the repercussive consequences... good or bad... reaping only the good ones and leaving the bad is missing half of life.

we interrupt this almost dead weblog with a few special announcements:

i liked where this site was going. i liked how different we all were and how we showed that the simplest thing (like one word) can be felt in so many ways.

but we aren't doing that anymore. hell... i doubt half of us are even reading this thing. so i cleaned house. if you hadn't posted in 2 months... i removed you from the blog. please, as my previous post discussed: don't take it personally.

if you have any desire to become an active member again, please just let me know and it's all gravy. i'm sure a few of you won't even notice that you've been pulled.

it's time to evolve... and i look forward to see what, if anything, this turns into.

if you aren't a current (or former) author and you are interested in joining, drop a note. and even if you are just reading... a note would make my day too. i don't have a counter or stats system for this page, so the possibility of these words being read by others is quite the mystery to me.

... personal

maybe i've just been taking things too personally. we all want to think that everything in this existence really IS all about us... but maybe it isn't. realizing you aren't as important as you'd like to be is just another reason to feel offended. vicious. vicious cycle.

interrupt

the hunger is ever-present uninterruptible. feed me what i need. nutritious. delicious. non of that quickie, processed crap. i want substance.

erased

take the back end of your mental pencil and erase the psychic demons sketched in shaded graphite tones... for that is all they are

stand

I sit all day at this vapid terminal, staring into a void of electrons and binary bits that have been gelled into something discernable.

incredible

the vastness of my ego can be quite incredible. sometimes i pause and think, "hey, I better humble it up a bit so that I'm more approachable to Joe Average."

... tossed

tossed and turned upside down so that my hair falls up to the ground below me and it makes me wonder if flying can make me as dizzy as you do.

slept

I blinked an eye and slept a second that turned into minutes and hours and years and decades. I woke up only to notice that I had blinked my life away and death was one last blink away.

... sweat

i wanted to sweat out all of it. just push a little harder, rock your hips a little faster and make sure you keep everything tight. control your breathing and listen to your heart beat and if you wait patiently you'll feel his quicken to match yours.

pay

bring the pay or bring the pain and what I say turns to rain as the new day is more of the same

local

locate the pebble-sized grain of soul. that's all you have that tiny little soul. lose it and screwed, any bid for cosmic immortality forfeit.

... local

this pain is a local one... small and comforting; it feels like home. i hope to keep it caged. to keep it in this one aching heart. for if it spreads i fear for the world.

fuel

feed me. fuel. I need to feed. I need to feed on food for fuel. fuel that feeds me.

sneaking

tiptoe sneaking from one room to the next. each step hovering timidly above the hardwood floor, asking permission and pleading not to creak too loudly.

worth

worth... subjective. it's only worth what someone is willing to pay for it. what about me as a human? can I put a $ amount on me. what am I willing to pay for myself?

below

the bellows down below the low tide ride the rhythmic strides of a heart attack packed in the back of '58 Chevy strafing a levee as it leaves late on the breeze blowing toward the vortex of fate where complex mental states are flexed over stalled engines washed ashore from the ocean floor covered in the dust of industries' rust compelling environmental distrust between land, sky, and sea asking why we still distill and refine petrol and coal to refill and fulfill our mechanic design that taints the brine of ocean water and maligns the air with chemical fodder fit to slaughter mother earth, father sun, and daughter moon fucked like so much tainted poon that soon they'll blow a hole in us with their collective wad and grow newly seeded corrective sod over our hardened weed-breeding mecha-garden

reduce

deduce and reduce. drink a cup of orange juice. what about the color puce? i don't what shade of loose chartreuse that is.

common

common. why am i so insulted? everyone is ordinary. but i am dying to be anything but. why do we ache to share things with people yet still remain unique and special?

common

what's the same between this and that, or you and me, or us and them? is there a commonality the strings us together like a sewing needle pulling Kevlar threads?

punch.

I would really like some Hawaiian Punch right now.

I don't remember the last time I had some.

punch.

Punch.

"What the fuck." Turn around. What the hell just happened?

Punch again.

Fall. Glimpse dirty sneakers.

Kick. "Where is it?"

"Where's what?"

"You know what I'm talking about, you bastard."

"Up your Mom's asshole, you sick fuck."

Knife. Blackness. White.

glimpse

a glimpse of all that matters. can I see it? can I find it? I can name the infinite things that do not matter: bills, work, materialism… none of that bullshit matters in the grand-scheme-of-things. tell me what truly matters or show me why I should keep on keepin' on… just a whisper or a glimpse, please... before I give up.

calls

she calls my name with NutraSweet and recoil at the overwhelming taste. to sugary for its own good.

thread

break me down piece by piece until you find the fragile threads that hold my soul together. pick at them like guitar strings, my heartstrings cry out in pain. love was never meant to push or pull me this way. sew me back together... please.

three

three days 'til I collapse in a heart-wrenching format of a burnt out dos shell. a type of hell. just ascii characters and black background without pics or graphics. yet the simplicity of this hell is refreshing.

yet

i haven't felt the twinge of regret, yet. it will come and when it does the twinge will redouble itself and become hammer of guilt.

until

until all of the sand manages to work its way out of my bathing suit, thank you very much.

the chafing is a little too annoying.

dancing

a white flake of snow in an updraft from a ventilation shaft. dancing, dancing, dancing. no self-consciousness constricts the movements to unheard music.

pierce

pierce all the skin you can in hopes of surrounding your heart with metal. guarding. hiding. protecting from any pain that you can't moniter yourself. we all like control. like to know whats coming. like to feel safe and comfortable and ruler of all in our stupid ass world of lets pretend no one else matters.

Pierce

I shall capitalise that with a capital P.

My first thought upon seeing the word "pierce" was "heh ... I've been with a guy like that..." In fact, I blogged about it on my main blog, and I'd link it here, but it looks like my server is down at the moment.

Ah well.

My second and third thoughts happened simultaneously.

I thought of Franklin Pierce, the fourth president of the United States. He was a Democrat and a New Englander. I have many Democratic New Englander friends. Needless to say, I kind of like President Franklin Pierce.

I also, at the same time, thought of Alan Alda, a.k.a. Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce from the TV show M*A*S*H. He was my favourite character. I grew up on watching M*A*S*H ... among many other television shows that are now considered "classics."

As for myself, yes, I've had a few piercings in my day.

That is all I will say. ;)

pierce

pierce the hollow night stillness with echoing shouts of dissatisfaction. to hell with what the neighbors think. to hell with what your children think. shout out your fears and tears and unbearable burdens.

pierce.

Wierd, how they always see right through me. Pierce through all of my bullshit. Remind me that life's about being trouble, not fooling people into thinking I'm trouble. Pierce through the layers to get something that's almost honest.

Then pierce my heart, you asshole. After I've worked so damn hard to keep it safe from you.

Beautiful fucking eyes.

casting

when I cast the movie to my life who will I get to play myself?... this could be a fun exercise. to list all the people in my life --family, fiends, coworkers, etc.-- and pick appropriate actors and actresses to play them.

oppose

the other team had way better uniforms. you could tell they came from money. it didn't matter that we had practiced like mad men all season or that we were on top of our game... seeing them towering over us all sparkly and clean sent every speck of self confidence right down the tube.

grade

grade me like a cheese grater. shred me and my identity into stringy pieces and scrutinize each delicious chunk. after you've vivisected and devoured my essence you can rank me like you're my (slightly sexy) fourth grade teacher, A-B-C-D-F.

statement

burn your statements to the ground with counter-arguments of flamethrower proportions. burn, baby, burn. intangible words set ablaze by the fuel of my ire. this is a statement in its own right.

statement

your statments come off more like questions because there never seems to be any certainty or confidence in your words. why don't you ever want to embrace yourself like you do the angels you are constantly chasing around? what is so bad about feeling strongly about something other than a pair of legs you'd like to lie between?

mold.

"Erica! How does an empty pizza box make it onto our LAUNDRY ROOM? FLOOR? OPEN?"
"Sorry! I uh, forgot about it!"
"Forgot? How long ago?"
"Well . . . it probably wasn't here the last time you did laundry."
"That was at least a week ago."
"Yeah, it was like, the next day."
"It's been sitting here for more than a week!?!?!"
"Well, think of it this way: now we don't have to go to the grocery store to get moldy cheese."
"AAAAARRRGGGHHHHHH!"

shift

i have felt a shift in the balance that my world has been teetering on. i am not afraid to acknowledge it, but i am reluctant to assimilate accordingly. this rut i am in is comfortable. this block of unwritten dreams and hopes and lives i only seem to live in the starry twilight in the back of my mind. safer inside this cavern i have molded for myself. less likely to fail or succeed or really do anything of consequence at all. weigh on me heavily...

give me a reason to jump. to fall. to fly.

mold

mold me into something you think would be a little more appropriate. teach me how to bleed, breathe and die all within the constraints of your rules. make me what you wish you were.

claw

with my sickle-shaped claws I ripped the satin clad mistress from satan's jaws and I dragged her to the cave of my stripped internal delusion to gaze upon the fusion burnt scars on her face.

recall

sometimes my memories are fuzzy disappearing notions of near forgotten ideas. i cannot recall the depth of detail or specific perspective the memory. that's okay, though. it probably wasn't worth remembering anyway.

locate

beep-beep-beep-blip. locate the vortex of your immortality with a radar/sonar built by god. is it in your brain, behind your eyes? is it in your gut, with the butterflies? is it in you dick, where lust resides?

down

down the pipeline. through twisting elbows and across T-splices. i slide and fall down the drain.

sand

grain by grain speck by speck my brain slips away like tiny specks in a sieve of pain

iron

i am iron. from fist to toe. i strike when i'm hot and destroy my foe.

iron

iron fisted and teeth clenched i walked away from you and me and everything i thought could be. i squeezed out all i could between my fingers and let the pain drip all over my shoes. and while the spots were very artistic...

it hurt.

honey

i hate unisexual nicknames that have no personal meaning behind them. however that doesn't mean i don't use them. especially as of late. the word "baby" has never really pulled that much weight with me before...

but he's my baby. ugh. i even make myself sick.

deaf

close my ears so that I cannot hear the tangible fears that you whisper in my ear. whispers for the deaf.

cover

cover my broken dreams with a lead drop cloth, like those kinds the dentists use when they x-ray my teeth. lead cloth. heavy. protect my broken dreams.

cover.

CYA, kids.

Is it bad, that I cringe whenever a particular piece of software is mentioned within my hearing at work?