Memoirs of a Musician

i fell in love
with the feeling-
of being yours
i made passionate love
to the feeling
inside of my head
i was so enthralled
with the idea
of holding your hand
nonchalantly
leaning against your body
and you supporting me
that i forgot about your soul
your person
and that i didn’t love that
only the feeling

(Source: memoirsofamusician)

the moment in which you attempt to sink into a bathtub full of scalding water just as Sylvia Plath describes it, so intimate and romantic and pure and blissful… and then remember all the sunburns you have all over your body even though you pinky promised your mom you wouldn’t sunburn yourself because you didn’t want to smear that greasy, shiny protector all over. so the heat of the water burns more than it should, and your sunburns also burn more than they should. hmph.

Once I learned that the difference between birds flying and humans not, is because birds’ bones are hollow.
Sometimes I wonder if it’s not the difference in bone, but thoughts that really matter.
If my mind were so empty, could I not fly?
The weight of words and thoughts and things keep me on this ground.
Penguins and flamingos and ostrich’s must share in my pain.
Thoughts are not filled with cement.
Uplifting thoughts are a paradox.
Even the happiest thoughts are filled with gravity.
Keeping me nailed to this ground.

(Source: memoirsofamusician)

I know I miss you more than you miss me, because I can feel the hurt on the inside of my arms after they’ve been away from your sides for too long.

I know I’m allergic to your absence because of the way my nose stuffs and eyes water when you ask, “Is everything okay?” yet I can’t hear your voice.

I know heart muscles are controlled unconsciously, but I think my brain is starting to be controlled unconsciously too.

I know this because of the way my thoughts always return to you, like my blood always finds its way back to my heart.

(Source: memoirsofamusician)

She gets like this
(sometimes)
Curls up inside herself, you know
Doesn’t know why such a small soul
Was given such a large living quarters
She doesn’t even like to run
The sun sets in her eyes
At the time of day it rises in others
Others wear a hat on their thoughts
She keeps her flying like kite strings
They don’t know why shes like this
I don’t know either

what to buy with a $50 gift card to a book and music store? hmm?

so i… won a poetry contest again. :) this time out of 6 winners, rather than 10. i also only entered one poem, versus three last year. they’re also going to ask me to do a reading at a library next month.

when you start to bleed
between the legs
they tell you youre becoming a woman
then continue to treat you
as a little girl
without ever telling you
when youve become one

(Source: memoirsofamusician)

we are paper thin

walls

are keeping out the outside

but the rain still hits

and i hope in my heart

somebody sets up the umbrella

for us

as we havent yet learned

how

(Source: memoirsofamusician)

it came, it came, it really came!

my canon rebel!

It’s come that time again
To become lost in a place
That I’ve never been
And you’ll watch mirrors for a sign
That I’m coming back
Hoping I haven’t made my home
Away from you, again

blood is thicker than water
so youre pumped through my veins
i’m on the edge of fire and disaster
so you are my flame

(Source: memoirsofamusician)