raw and undone

i smell of seaweed-salted waves
and last night's sleep.
sifting sand with fingers and toes
searching for dreams
   somebody stole.
time ebbs and flows
-clouds overcast-
my skin covered with your body's steam
-waves play the soundtrack to my soul
and wipe the past clean.

These days

Exhaustion is setting in
As I stand with outstretched arms
I bear my scars
4 times over.
You laugh when it hurts
But I'm turning on you
I can't believe this has become the life I lead:
Old wounds with fresh marks
Make up my days.

Why?
Why?
There are no answers
just raw words full of jagged edges
and empty promises.

The writing of words

I read this post by Schmutzie yesterday, and it pulled on my heartstrings. The poem. The words. The honesty. Her process of writing poetry.
I write every day. On a notebook in my jeep in traffic. In my planner. On scraps of paper I find in my purse. On my notebook during class. I open new files on my computer and jot down ideas. I wake up with words running through my mind, echoing from my dreams. I start writing, and sometimes I just let it flow, not worrying about the rhymes or the stanzas or any of the proper English-major shit. Other times, I try too hard, trying to make it fit and flow and ebb with the beat of my heart. But I think what matters is I TRY. I don't give up. And if I never get published, and no one else likes my poetry, I can at least say I was true to myself, true to my passion. (Although, wouldn't it be great to be published??)

I'm learning how to just BE these days. How to be comfortable in my own skin, despite the discomfort. How to be okay with not knowing what I want, where I'm going, what's going to happen in the near future, or the distant future.

Writing helps me. While I don't post much here anymore (which is soooo about to change! In *15* days I will be DONE w/ my master's degree and I will be posting here REGULARLY!!), I write every day with the hopes that I will look down at the page in my lap and see words that give me some peace, some insight, some hidden answer to the mess inside my head these days.

There is no logic to some things in life, I think I've discovered. There's only the way we handle these things in life, the meaning we make and take from these things, the happiness and peace we find despite these things. When I write, I feel the pieces within myself fit together perfectly. When I write, I have that happiness and peace.

I am not afraid of being judged. I am not afraid of being accepted. I am not afraid of being rejected. I am not afraid of being read or not read or misunderstood or ridiculed or hurt or broken. I just AM.

Music Lover Monday-The mainstream-ish song stuck in my head

I've been told several times the past couple of weeks that I only listen to "mainstream" stuff. Well, maybe I sorta do. I know there's some stuff on my ipod that isn't mainstream too, but whatever. So, here's a mainstream-ish song that has been stuck in my head for, ummmmm, several days? Just over a week? Enjoy (I know I am)!