This is something you might take for granted. This is something you probably haven’t thought about. When you get out of bed in the morning, and your feet touch the ground, do you think about what it feels like? Do you think about the texture of the wood, carpet, or tile, beneath your feet? You probably don’t. I don’t blame you. A lot of people don’t. But think about this…
Picture me, Margaret, Margar, at eight years old. I was a long lanky awkward freckled face who never brushed her hair. And I walked a lot, or rather, I clumped a lot. My feet made this hard clumping sound when I walked. I had to wear braces inside my shoes to hold my feet in place. My feet had a mind of their own. They would both turn outwards. This was too much for me and my mother, bless her for putting on the braces almost every morning, to handle. So I went in for surgery.
The doctors cut my heal chords, made me flat, and I was on my way back home in a wheel chair with cast. I had the cast on for a long time. Too long, so long, in fact that I actually stuck a light bright down the cast so they could cut it so I could itch my leg. They came off eventually. I was ecstatic. I was going to get my first pair of real shoes! They were Buzz Light-year and they light up when I walked.
The shoes were quickly cast aside however. I remember I was walking into the living room, bare footed. I sat down on the step to slide down into the room. I wasn’t very good at stairs yet. Then the magic happened. “Mommy! Mommy! I can feel the carpet! I can feel the carpet!” I was lost in a different world. I was feeling the Earth; I was feeling my home for the first time. The fibers tickled my feet. They were the softest things in the world. I was so happy to be alive. Everything made sense now because everything had a touch to it. I could understand everything. My fifth sense was finally in play. I was finally, complete as a person. From then on, and even now, I would go barefoot everywhere I possibly could.
They say it’s the little things. Waking up in the morning, and touching the floor, touching the Earth, is my little thing.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Oh Harlequin, Oh Harlequin (To be continued... maybe.)
Late night and I still don't feel like sleeping. The Sandman won't come to me and there is nothing on T.V. I creep, my sock covered feet, to my room. White walls, minus a few, some would say Gothic ordimants hanging on the wall.
I laid in bed and covered my head and heard about a harlequin who loved a girl, some valentine's ago. I got jealous. I wanted a heart nailed to my door, and a cane that went ratta-tat-tat. I had, none of those things. I wallowed for a moment. then I heard the same ratta-tat-tat-ing on my window.
It was dark, and any normal girl would have been worried and ran to mommy. But I'm no normal girl. I'm not scared of the dark. I like the dark actually. In any case, I lifted up the window. And lo! What did I see? Harlequin had come for me!
"Do you come to all the sleepless ladies or am I lucky?" I inquired with a whisper. He said nothing. Instead, he leapt about my room with the grace of birds in flight, smooth and easy. Red and yellow ribbons flashed, and he laughed. He did a handstand on my table and looked at me upside down. "My life, my columbine." he said, did a flip, and a bow with a flourish. "I would curtsy, but I wear no dress."
I rubbed my sleep-less eyes and, mocked a bow instead. "You have poor taste in women, Harlequin." "Do I?" he sat on the table, cross legged. "I think so. There are plenty of other women, willing to give them self's up easy." "I don't like easy things to get. They're boring. You're not so quick to give your heart and I enjoy the chance to hunt it from you under this February moon. Now, lay back in bed. I have a gift for you." I can assure you now, that it was not as perverted as it sounded. I did as I was told. With a wave of hands he made butterflies dance.
In truth, I was in awe but... I was not yet willing. "I thank you Harlequin but... I am not willing." He sat on the edge of my bed. "I know." a smile spread across his face. "You can always try again!" I said, laughing slightly at my state. "I will time and time again. True love," he stood and balanced on my head board with his dimond covered shoes "Cannot be rushed." Then I was given a kiss and just as quickly as he came, he was gone.
I laid in bed and covered my head and heard about a harlequin who loved a girl, some valentine's ago. I got jealous. I wanted a heart nailed to my door, and a cane that went ratta-tat-tat. I had, none of those things. I wallowed for a moment. then I heard the same ratta-tat-tat-ing on my window.
It was dark, and any normal girl would have been worried and ran to mommy. But I'm no normal girl. I'm not scared of the dark. I like the dark actually. In any case, I lifted up the window. And lo! What did I see? Harlequin had come for me!
"Do you come to all the sleepless ladies or am I lucky?" I inquired with a whisper. He said nothing. Instead, he leapt about my room with the grace of birds in flight, smooth and easy. Red and yellow ribbons flashed, and he laughed. He did a handstand on my table and looked at me upside down. "My life, my columbine." he said, did a flip, and a bow with a flourish. "I would curtsy, but I wear no dress."
I rubbed my sleep-less eyes and, mocked a bow instead. "You have poor taste in women, Harlequin." "Do I?" he sat on the table, cross legged. "I think so. There are plenty of other women, willing to give them self's up easy." "I don't like easy things to get. They're boring. You're not so quick to give your heart and I enjoy the chance to hunt it from you under this February moon. Now, lay back in bed. I have a gift for you." I can assure you now, that it was not as perverted as it sounded. I did as I was told. With a wave of hands he made butterflies dance.
In truth, I was in awe but... I was not yet willing. "I thank you Harlequin but... I am not willing." He sat on the edge of my bed. "I know." a smile spread across his face. "You can always try again!" I said, laughing slightly at my state. "I will time and time again. True love," he stood and balanced on my head board with his dimond covered shoes "Cannot be rushed." Then I was given a kiss and just as quickly as he came, he was gone.
Friday, February 24, 2012
Three People.
On the night, last night, I heard of their deaths. I don't know them. But I met one.
I painted my face like The Crow, and I slipped on my coat. I walked out into the night, the road in the suburb where my mom lived. I walked endlessly with no purpose. I wanted it to rain desperately. To pour down on me, drown me even.
But the sky is not in my favor tonight. Not at all. I couldn't even see the moon. As to why I did what I just did, I offer no explination because, I don't know either. Kids I wish I could be your messenger of death and take you in my wings, and take you to a place where you are never hurt. To where you can both just be kids for the rest of your life and not have to live in a cruel grown up world.
I paint my face for you. And I...pray... for an easy afterlife for the three of you.
I cut into my skin for three people. I watch the lines blur into a stocking of red down my leg, staining the tub. Blood and paint blur.
If I could be your messenger of death, if I could be your justice, I would. But I can't. I'm sorry. I'll wear these scars for you instead.
I painted my face like The Crow, and I slipped on my coat. I walked out into the night, the road in the suburb where my mom lived. I walked endlessly with no purpose. I wanted it to rain desperately. To pour down on me, drown me even.
But the sky is not in my favor tonight. Not at all. I couldn't even see the moon. As to why I did what I just did, I offer no explination because, I don't know either. Kids I wish I could be your messenger of death and take you in my wings, and take you to a place where you are never hurt. To where you can both just be kids for the rest of your life and not have to live in a cruel grown up world.
I paint my face for you. And I...pray... for an easy afterlife for the three of you.
I cut into my skin for three people. I watch the lines blur into a stocking of red down my leg, staining the tub. Blood and paint blur.
If I could be your messenger of death, if I could be your justice, I would. But I can't. I'm sorry. I'll wear these scars for you instead.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Monday, February 20, 2012
Pictures I've been meaning to show you.
So here's some people in my family...
My dad is the one holding a fish. These two are my grand parents, Mel and Zeda, and my sister, Jenna. And this last one is myself age five with my brother and sister. They came home from college on my favorite holiday to suprise me.
I couldn't find one of my mom. She hates pictures.
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Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Dear Jeff
Dear Jeff,
Funny. Real funny. I don't really know you, and yet, I know you well enough to call you husband. I've seen you, but I haven't really seen you. I get exicted when I come home from school, knowing that I'll talk to you soon. Knowing that you'll listen and make my day a lot better by making me laugh at myself and the adventures I tell you, small adventures though. But, adventures, none the less.
This is really hard to write. I thought about something funny, but then it would seem like I'm trying too hard and you appreciate honesty more than a half ass attempt at something clever. So, here it is.
It's valentines day here, as you know. Today is your yesterday, as you also know. Sometimes I feel like I bother you... talking to you all the time. I keep at it anyway, though. I don't think you mind now since it's been around two years. It feels a lot longer then that!
When I'm away from mothers nest I will send you all the things I mean to send you. I'll wrap them up as best I can and tie it with a red ribbion best I can and send it on it's way. I have a feeling, though, you'll end up liking this more. To me, this little letter dosn't do our friendship any sort of justice. It dosn't mean much to be at all and I feel like I should do more and I will do more when the time comes. But I feel like you'll like this.
I remember when I first met you. I made a little film, it wasn't much but you liked it. Naturally, being much too curious, I proded. I wanted to know who the person was to like what I was saying... or trying to say. I thought "Who in the world could So the minitues became hours and hours became days.
And through that, we became friends. And even beyond that, a terrible excuse of mock lovers! But, I like none the less.
Well, that's all I can think of. Thank you for all the listenings you gave, the good and bad (mostly the latter!) influences, the thoughts, the music, the ponderings. You are, and always will be, one of my closest friends.
Love always,
Margaret.
Funny. Real funny. I don't really know you, and yet, I know you well enough to call you husband. I've seen you, but I haven't really seen you. I get exicted when I come home from school, knowing that I'll talk to you soon. Knowing that you'll listen and make my day a lot better by making me laugh at myself and the adventures I tell you, small adventures though. But, adventures, none the less.
This is really hard to write. I thought about something funny, but then it would seem like I'm trying too hard and you appreciate honesty more than a half ass attempt at something clever. So, here it is.
It's valentines day here, as you know. Today is your yesterday, as you also know. Sometimes I feel like I bother you... talking to you all the time. I keep at it anyway, though. I don't think you mind now since it's been around two years. It feels a lot longer then that!
When I'm away from mothers nest I will send you all the things I mean to send you. I'll wrap them up as best I can and tie it with a red ribbion best I can and send it on it's way. I have a feeling, though, you'll end up liking this more. To me, this little letter dosn't do our friendship any sort of justice. It dosn't mean much to be at all and I feel like I should do more and I will do more when the time comes. But I feel like you'll like this.
I remember when I first met you. I made a little film, it wasn't much but you liked it. Naturally, being much too curious, I proded. I wanted to know who the person was to like what I was saying... or trying to say. I thought "Who in the world could So the minitues became hours and hours became days.
And through that, we became friends. And even beyond that, a terrible excuse of mock lovers! But, I like none the less.
Well, that's all I can think of. Thank you for all the listenings you gave, the good and bad (mostly the latter!) influences, the thoughts, the music, the ponderings. You are, and always will be, one of my closest friends.
Love always,
Margaret.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
A Lifetime
It was dark.
She thought she could do more instead of waiting,
but she had to be paient for her.
... she loved her after all.
It's funny how those things work out.
Wanting what you can't have,
Wanting something you've never wanted before,
Wanting a woman when all she's had were men.
It was dark.
And cold.
And down right miserable.
Is she miserable?
Is THIS what it is?
Suddenly there was panic but the lady in question is used to panic.
They hate her at first,
Then they can't live without her,
Then they move on.
So it goes,
she is still waiting.
Scared,
Hungry for her.
Death enters.
The sound of wings.
"Is it...?"
"Time?" Death smiles. Death smiles? What? "Yes. It is."
"But... you shouldn't I've been here for so long and I haven't got-"
"You get what every one gets. You get a lifetime."
... The sound of wings.
She thought she could do more instead of waiting,
but she had to be paient for her.
... she loved her after all.
It's funny how those things work out.
Wanting what you can't have,
Wanting something you've never wanted before,
Wanting a woman when all she's had were men.
It was dark.
And cold.
And down right miserable.
Is she miserable?
Is THIS what it is?
Suddenly there was panic but the lady in question is used to panic.
They hate her at first,
Then they can't live without her,
Then they move on.
So it goes,
she is still waiting.
Scared,
Hungry for her.
Death enters.
The sound of wings.
"Is it...?"
"Time?" Death smiles. Death smiles? What? "Yes. It is."
"But... you shouldn't I've been here for so long and I haven't got-"
"You get what every one gets. You get a lifetime."
... The sound of wings.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Hard Rain
One day the Lord Of Dreams was sad. He was sad because a Goddess chose not to love him anymore. So Dream tip-toed away from the Lords and Ladies, all the way up to the highest point in the castle. This was his thinking place.
He sat there, head in hand for awhile. This was an emotion he had felt before. The tightness in his chest, the sharp pain, the empty stomach… it’s all been there. But something was different this time. Dream gazed across the fields. He saw the Raven Woman in her cave. He saw Cane and Abel in their House Of Mystery. And, when he squinted, he saw Nothing. The realm of Despair. The nothingness felt awfully close that day, even though it was, distance wise far away.
Dream felt her flesh, still, on his skin. So soft and almost… unworldly. To him that was a big word to say since he, was the master of unworldly. He touched his cheek. His hand slowly worked down to his chest. Each finger feeling the finer points of him. Feeling where she had been…
A gasp came from his throat. He couldn’t breathe for a moment. The clouds became as black as his eyes, and his feelings. They gathered in great numbers. Across the fields the clouds spread. They were waiting. They held their breath, along with him. Waiting to exhale.
Sudden rage; a crack of thunder. Worlds above and below, looked around in fear. Fear was the key element of thunder. He looked to the darkness of his world, in utter and pure agony. In the realm of Despair, the Lady calmly watched. It was another day for her… they all looked the same, after all.
Lord placed his head in lily white hands and…
It rained.
Some saw it as a blessing. Some saw it as a curse. Some saw it as another day.
The deserts became oceans, puddles became floods, and a heart, became pieces.
Through heart break came the rain.
Through loss came pain.
And when the battle was over and done,
All Dream got was hard rain.
He sat there, head in hand for awhile. This was an emotion he had felt before. The tightness in his chest, the sharp pain, the empty stomach… it’s all been there. But something was different this time. Dream gazed across the fields. He saw the Raven Woman in her cave. He saw Cane and Abel in their House Of Mystery. And, when he squinted, he saw Nothing. The realm of Despair. The nothingness felt awfully close that day, even though it was, distance wise far away.
Dream felt her flesh, still, on his skin. So soft and almost… unworldly. To him that was a big word to say since he, was the master of unworldly. He touched his cheek. His hand slowly worked down to his chest. Each finger feeling the finer points of him. Feeling where she had been…
A gasp came from his throat. He couldn’t breathe for a moment. The clouds became as black as his eyes, and his feelings. They gathered in great numbers. Across the fields the clouds spread. They were waiting. They held their breath, along with him. Waiting to exhale.
Sudden rage; a crack of thunder. Worlds above and below, looked around in fear. Fear was the key element of thunder. He looked to the darkness of his world, in utter and pure agony. In the realm of Despair, the Lady calmly watched. It was another day for her… they all looked the same, after all.
Lord placed his head in lily white hands and…
It rained.
Some saw it as a blessing. Some saw it as a curse. Some saw it as another day.
The deserts became oceans, puddles became floods, and a heart, became pieces.
Through heart break came the rain.
Through loss came pain.
And when the battle was over and done,
All Dream got was hard rain.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Guilty Pleasure.
So through constant nagging of my best friend, I broke down and listened to more Christian Death. The result? Several hours later I was still listening to Romeo's Distress. I have mixed feelings.
They're not actually Christian, I don't think. Not that it matters but it is interesting what a subculture has with it. So many different little things, once you take igorance away.
In closing, Christian Death is a gulity pleasure.
They're not actually Christian, I don't think. Not that it matters but it is interesting what a subculture has with it. So many different little things, once you take igorance away.
In closing, Christian Death is a gulity pleasure.
Monday, February 6, 2012
Worn
Do you remember?
The hush of fire flies as they kissed your palms,
Or the cool water on your face in summer’s eve?
No.
How could you?
How can you remember the beauty and pain of youth.
I know why you don’t remember.
You don’t remember because you have grown old,
And sleepy and tired.
Just…drawn out.
Didn’t Oscar Wilde whisper to you…
“I am not yet young enough to know everything.”?
Didn’t you believe in that a young time ago?
Didn’t you care before I was born?
Horribly ashamed,
Here you are.
Polluted your lungs with tar and nicotine,
And let your skin become haggard and brown,
The luster and life is gone.
And the kisses of fire flies and young girlfriends no longer stain your cheeks,
And the cool water that once soothed only stings,
I feel sorry for you,
So sorry indeed.
The hush of fire flies as they kissed your palms,
Or the cool water on your face in summer’s eve?
No.
How could you?
How can you remember the beauty and pain of youth.
I know why you don’t remember.
You don’t remember because you have grown old,
And sleepy and tired.
Just…drawn out.
Didn’t Oscar Wilde whisper to you…
“I am not yet young enough to know everything.”?
Didn’t you believe in that a young time ago?
Didn’t you care before I was born?
Horribly ashamed,
Here you are.
Polluted your lungs with tar and nicotine,
And let your skin become haggard and brown,
The luster and life is gone.
And the kisses of fire flies and young girlfriends no longer stain your cheeks,
And the cool water that once soothed only stings,
I feel sorry for you,
So sorry indeed.
Friday, February 3, 2012
Saying Goodbye
I had fallen, more or less, maybe even up into a field between some mountains. And it was dark.
I felt grass on my legs. I guess I was laying down. Little things like this didn't matter right then. There wasn't a star in the sky or anything just... black.
And suddenly something came falling towards where I was. And it painted the sky. Painted it purple and blues and reds and hushed tones of silver.
I followed the path it made in the sky. Through the trees, and the tiny rivers, and more trees, I followed. I could have looked back if I wanted to, but the falling was the only thing that was giving off light. So like a moth to flame, I ran.
The Falling became Fallen and then Crash. Trees exploded and I was thrown back into bushes and bushes of thorns. Blood and the elements seem to always collided in my dreams.
Dream is the keyword, here.
The explosion wasn't loud... I wish it would have been. No sound is worse.
I laid there for a few minutes. I was uncaring. Shaken? Yes. But caring? No.
Perhaps I would have been content laying in these tangled bits of whatever these thorns were supposed to mean. Just dying slowly and easily. Que The Radiohead! "How To Disappear Completely." swimming inside my head like tiny fishes. And I thought "This is nice."
But the thought was short lived. And I was plucked from thorns by my wrist, by bones. Taken up by a slender hand, marble white...
"You're dead!" I cried in sheer disbelief. I saw him die. I was there. I couldn't do a thing... although I wanted to.
"Am I dead to you?" Prince Of Stories, gallant as ever, asked.
"N-no."
"Then, miss, I am not dead."
"I watched you die..."
"You watched a part of me die."
"Oh..."
The worst sound is no noise. The worst sound is no sound. He was bleeding, and I tried to wash it off, but all I had were dusty hands. And he was much too tall.
"It won't do any good. I stop bleeding when I wish to stop." he said, sitting down now. The thorns had somehow gone and grass was in its place. He sat cross legged, shirt and pants. Looking much younger now... my age, you could say.
Blood-like substance dripped down from his face. I hurt but I sat across from him. Arm on knee, chin in palm, starring. Probably blushing. He was giving off the light.
The worst sound is no sound. So I foolishly made my own.
"Do you...love?" a small child inside me crept up, but not too small.
"You?"
"Mmmhmm."
And he thought for a moment. His eyes sort of... far off.
"I could."
"Can you...now?"
"Patience."
I grunted in disappointment and embarrassment, mostly the latter.
"Why are you here?"
"To say goodbye."
Goodbye? No. No no no. It wasn't supposed to work like that. This isn't right. Stop it. Stop.
"Save your tears."
"No." Bite my lip, small child again.
He stood, looking slightly older. "Kiss me goodbye like a woman, not a little girl."
Blink. Blink. Blink. Deer in headlight eyes.
I did as I was told... and I would do a thousand times more.
"Goodbye isn't forever, right?" I called, as he was walking away. Voice was begging not to be left alone in darkness.
"Right."
"Can I come?"
He turned around. "No. But you can't stay here."
"I ought to go with you."
"Not now."
"When?"
"Soon."
I ran. He just stood there, peering down at me, making me feel small. I embrace him, clingling.
"Goodbye isn't forever right?"
"Right." Perhabps he was loosing paients.
"Soon?"
"Soon enough."
Gently pushed away, and made to lay down again. A kiss on the cheek.
Goodbye Dream.
I felt grass on my legs. I guess I was laying down. Little things like this didn't matter right then. There wasn't a star in the sky or anything just... black.
And suddenly something came falling towards where I was. And it painted the sky. Painted it purple and blues and reds and hushed tones of silver.
I followed the path it made in the sky. Through the trees, and the tiny rivers, and more trees, I followed. I could have looked back if I wanted to, but the falling was the only thing that was giving off light. So like a moth to flame, I ran.
The Falling became Fallen and then Crash. Trees exploded and I was thrown back into bushes and bushes of thorns. Blood and the elements seem to always collided in my dreams.
Dream is the keyword, here.
The explosion wasn't loud... I wish it would have been. No sound is worse.
I laid there for a few minutes. I was uncaring. Shaken? Yes. But caring? No.
Perhaps I would have been content laying in these tangled bits of whatever these thorns were supposed to mean. Just dying slowly and easily. Que The Radiohead! "How To Disappear Completely." swimming inside my head like tiny fishes. And I thought "This is nice."
But the thought was short lived. And I was plucked from thorns by my wrist, by bones. Taken up by a slender hand, marble white...
"You're dead!" I cried in sheer disbelief. I saw him die. I was there. I couldn't do a thing... although I wanted to.
"Am I dead to you?" Prince Of Stories, gallant as ever, asked.
"N-no."
"Then, miss, I am not dead."
"I watched you die..."
"You watched a part of me die."
"Oh..."
The worst sound is no noise. The worst sound is no sound. He was bleeding, and I tried to wash it off, but all I had were dusty hands. And he was much too tall.
"It won't do any good. I stop bleeding when I wish to stop." he said, sitting down now. The thorns had somehow gone and grass was in its place. He sat cross legged, shirt and pants. Looking much younger now... my age, you could say.
Blood-like substance dripped down from his face. I hurt but I sat across from him. Arm on knee, chin in palm, starring. Probably blushing. He was giving off the light.
The worst sound is no sound. So I foolishly made my own.
"Do you...love?" a small child inside me crept up, but not too small.
"You?"
"Mmmhmm."
And he thought for a moment. His eyes sort of... far off.
"I could."
"Can you...now?"
"Patience."
I grunted in disappointment and embarrassment, mostly the latter.
"Why are you here?"
"To say goodbye."
Goodbye? No. No no no. It wasn't supposed to work like that. This isn't right. Stop it. Stop.
"Save your tears."
"No." Bite my lip, small child again.
He stood, looking slightly older. "Kiss me goodbye like a woman, not a little girl."
Blink. Blink. Blink. Deer in headlight eyes.
I did as I was told... and I would do a thousand times more.
"Goodbye isn't forever, right?" I called, as he was walking away. Voice was begging not to be left alone in darkness.
"Right."
"Can I come?"
He turned around. "No. But you can't stay here."
"I ought to go with you."
"Not now."
"When?"
"Soon."
I ran. He just stood there, peering down at me, making me feel small. I embrace him, clingling.
"Goodbye isn't forever right?"
"Right." Perhabps he was loosing paients.
"Soon?"
"Soon enough."
Gently pushed away, and made to lay down again. A kiss on the cheek.
Goodbye Dream.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
something my baby bat drew for me.
http://www.tumblr.com/photo/1280/yaoilover1997/16889265210/1/tumblr_lyqnyyCesN1r4wxwp
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