like mashed potatoes
I thought I'd write tonight. My thoughts are clear, yet so dreaded.
I have poetry on my mind and something's been in the air.
It's been 12 days and I thought I would actually be able to write. It's been a while since I've let my emotions bleed from my fingers onto the keyboard.
Since I've let them drip with emotion, happy, sad and cool. Since I've let them sing... and I dropped off a part of myself on that farm on the Charlotte's. It's in the wind somewhere... making love with a woofer.
*It was a cool night and the sun had not yet set. My heart beat, and the wind was calling to me.
I walked down to the rocky beach and found a rock to balance on. I stood there, erect and waiting. For something to take over. My spirit or someone else's. I breathed, heart beating and legs shaking... this is what it feels like to be free.... or try to be. The last thought brought me back up to the dark house and tea in the kitchen...
*
The weekend... eating yams full of music is what it felt like. I stumbled over my tired feet and found the music with you. I stood in the middle of that crowd with you by my side. Heard the acoustic and sunglasses shielded my eyes from the harsh wind that rocked the earth.
My eyes closed... and I was under water with sex and chocolate... pleasing my body, soul and heart.
And when I walk sometimes. I Feel the difference of my walk and thoughts. See where I am, from years ago and I take a deep breath realizing it's only been a few years... 16 years and think what's next.
To switch a house and come into her's. I'm comfronted with a life I know so well. A part of me flies away while my heart and eyes open. Without thinking I speak... and the words flow. I listen to what I speak...
"Let's go to the bathroom and look in the mirror like we used to."
Then I tell her, "you look pale." and ask about her health. It hurts because I remember the days of blood sisters and spitted hand shakes of promises...about, "we will never be like that."
She knows me...but how is it I can fall so easily into her world? And she can't think of mine. I've seen her face once if you know what I mean.
--+
And then I find myself with him, drifting into sleep and my heart sings.
He's the one for me... and I love him. That's as simple as it has to be.
---
poetry and here's a starter. My thoughts are scatterd and my mind feels kind of like... mashed potatoes.
Wednesday, Sept. 29, 2004
9:24 p.m.
9:24 p.m.