Her heart was on her sleeve, so it made sense that it became very battered and bruised over time. It was easy to think of it as an entity, something real that she could show people — some part of her that actually made sense. It was only later that she saw what it was, staring hard with that clinical detachment only truly broken people can really achieve. She realized, in the end, that is was nothing more than a mechanism. She didn’t mind though. This made it easier not to care when her heart was shattered into a million pieces.
It took a lot of thought and work to mechanize this magnificent machine, But it has been born and it works like a charm! it stands here in it’s shimmering glory! tall and golden! this is the future!
This tiny thing needs only a cog to function properly. And a screw.
If they are missing, the wheels will not turn and all is lost.
just like you have i have become hard
hardened by a world
that had expectations.
for the mechanism
of the world.
bland and repetitive.
but softly did the woes go.
unbound by the freedom.
of the chains oppressed by society
I had taken out the door knob in preparation for painting the bedroom door but left the locking mechanism in. I didn’t think too much about it and was busy sanding and such. At one point I closed the door to get the proper angle for sanding. It was then that I realized I had locked myself IN the bedroom without any tools to get myself OUT. There I was… all alone, no cell phone, no tools. At least the window was open so I took the screen off, climbed up on my dresser and lifted a leg over, then straddled the window jam and let gravity do the rest! Not my finest day.
we are wound so tightly
I feel your fingers press each key
the air bows
like stalks of grass
in a spring paddock
this way, that
so many small hammers
sing for you
I wake each morning
to the sound of pressed keys
as if each is my vertebra
and I am turning to
glass, china, chalk
my only remedy
is to stand in white sunlight
flower between thumb and finger
” Oh no! My car wouldn’t start”. Melody said. So, she contacted her friend Eric.
She told him the problem.
“You just have to heat it up.” He said.
” Thanks. I don’t know what to do without you.” She hugged him.
“It’s fine. It’s only mechanic, simple mechanism.”
“Thanks again.” Then Eric saw her most beautiful smile.
divided my soul in two
one part of me was aching
the other loving all of you
and frankly my dear
i don’t know what to say
besides the fact
that you my dear
cloud my thoughts all day
There is a chain of events, in an infinite regress that undermines their Truth, which makes up me and you and everything we know. Perspective determines if this threat to Truth tells you that we are all One, or that all is illusion. Or, as holds ascendance today, a comfortable middle way, easy to live with, but always disappointing.
My heart is mechanism. I work it, I feel it. it makes me tired and happy. I wish I could throw it in the trash and give it a hearty dinner at the same time. I shape the world around me with it and my eyes expand at the beauty. I can feel it still. It beats fast. So very fast.
that’s what this is
it isn’t full of love
or even really affection
it’s a well oiled machine
i don’t care to look at
is feeling lonely just a defense mechanism to not living life to its fullest?
I don’t really want to talk about the word of the day, I just want a place ot lament about how terrible of a person I am.
Meanwhile she brushed out her hair in preparation for her date. It would be only her second, and she wanted it to be absolutely perfect. Smoothing down her dress once more, she stood before the mirror.
“Juliet, you have this. It will be fine. Just keep up conversation,” she said to herself, smiling falsely.
The world keeps spinning. Time goes as usual. Lives go on as usual, nothing has really changed. Everything is still the same.
Yet, meanwhile, it all seems different: the time goes slowly as expectancies get higher and higher, and it still looks so far, so far. As far as ever even though that is not exactly true.
Sometimes it is excruciatingly painful living like this, expecting, hoping. Hope is as much a strength as it is a weakness; I hope mine to be the first, never the latter.
Meanwhile he sleeps… Like a sweet baby expecting caress, hoping for someone who is yet to come.
Meanwhile, she just continued babbling about everything. Her new boyfriend, her new car, her new flat, and I just really didn’t care. I just kept thinking about the girl with the red hair and golden eyes, because I just couldn’t forget her.
back at the ranch, gus was cooking up some mutton steaks and red beans. noone like the mutton gus made, but he made it anyway because he didn’t want to cook rattler or pecary or any other of the desert varmits they brought in – so mutton it was…
Meanwhile, the girl stared at the ticking of the clock. Her stare was vacant, her eyes incredibly dull for a little girl. The girl was no more than eleven years old and her long white shift only enhanced the innocence of her form.
There wasn’t much else going on. He stood silently and eschewed more responses in his head. What his boss might say or do in the meanwhile. He had already spoken enough on his side to know it was time to top. Small talk to business talk to family and health and what’s new. Then back to business. He could stop and walk away and wonder what would be thought of or keep standing there waiting for the man to finally say something.