I just watched Martha Marcy May Marlene, and one of the scenes, near the end, where she’s treading water behind her sister’s house. . . the lake or river or whatever body of water she was in not only looked black, but looked like it had some sort of current, and I pictured her drifting away. . .
The movie ends under different circumstances. Go watch it.
And then I saw her. Drifting through the crowd, wearing a white sweater, and a navy skirt that fit her so well. Swaying to the mamas and the papas’ “dream a little dream of me”. She had her eyes closed, a dreamy smile on her face. God, she was beautiful. And so alive. She opened her eyes and smiled that mischievous smile at me. I half expected her to disappear into the crowd, but instead found myself being pulled around in a circle to dance with her. I couldn’t stop smiling. She couldn’t either, and I wonder if maybe she was happy to see me, or if she was just happy to have found her way back home. I still don’t know, and I don’t care. Because that moment was one of the most perfect things I’ve ever experienced. In my memory, we dance all night to that one song, grinning like idiots.
When two hearts are drifting apart, masks begin to show once again. You don’t know the person anymore, and the person doesn’t know you. Shots of pain come flying from the sky, from the hearts of those that once loved you, from those that miss, from those that wonder.
The clouds are drifting from the sun. There’s a blue sky behind the gray, rays that kiss the skin with gold and warmth. There once was a tree who sat alone in the hills. Apples would on its branch. The people would take them, eat them and never return.
I float between the clouds, looking up and down and all around. I look for you, your sky-like eyes. Blue and grey and full of sunlight. You drifted off to sleep and lay your soft lips on mine. I felt your body warm and soft and drifted on Cloud 9.
I was becoming undeniably unfit. I had to admit it to myself before moving on. I started by cutting most things off my diet that weren’t fruit or coffee. My work out was to commence tomorrow. But I couldn’t go to the gym without letting him see how fat I’d become. But dammit I need to get my moneys worth.
She’d been drifting for a while now. Down to the corner store across the park. Back up to the swing set. Over to the copse of trees. If she remained still, people would ask her where her parents were. She didn’t know.
to sleep, my mind, my dear. the clouds, the wind, my soul is not drifting, but floating. sometimes I want to fly away, but eventually I will get tired, and I’ll come back. I’ll always come back home. to you, because I don’t know where else I’d want to be.
The log was drifting down the river like a little boat caught in the stream of life. At the front of the stick sat two tiny turtles, Tim and Tina who had set out for an adventure of a life time. They had never traveled outside of the pond, 5 years of the same seen, trees, toads, fish, dragon flys, they were ready to spread their shells and fly. Tim was the older of the two but Tina was by far the bravest of the duo. Her bravery and his senesce of wonder led them to the log that day. Though Tim was hungry for some action he also liked to play it safe. It took Tina double dog daring him to make him step out of his comfort zone and onto the ride of their life.
Now, they had been warned by all the older turtles that they should never ever leave the pond. There was nothing good beyond the forest and that everything they every needed could be found among their own kind. Tina spent most of her life trying to ignore the nagging feeling that would tug on her heart whenever she heard the elder turtles voices in her head. “could this really be true she would think to herself?”
I am a wanderer. I am a homeless one, seeking comfort in the cracks and crevices of the world- perpetually lonely, always lost. The world is only a plane of existence for me to wander; there is no gravity to tether my soul to anything else. I am forever chasing another sunset.
I can only remember a couple of times in my life in which i felt i was drifting: love and drift racing. They are two quite different things but have in common the feeling of addrenalin, a rush.
Drifting in happens as well. That’s what I use this exercise as. A coming out from the ocean of busy thought, of a feeling-nothing bustle of moment to moment into the examined curiosity and creativity of concentrated ability. A delicate skimming of the bottom of my boat, the wet sand sifting, and a sudden halt.
Drifting away from me is the one i love. Once a live bird, followed by the slaughter. Next was the cleaning and covering in warm but moist liquid followed by a breadcrumb, into the frying pan into a boat served next to vegtables into a humans mouth through the digestive system into cold yellow water until the ground falls out and i become at mercy to gravity and in a dark water slide into other boyont objects that look like myself. =(
Drifting in and out of sleep as I sat in the passanger seat trying to help keep him awake as he drove the 400 mile stretch from oneside of California to the next. My eyes felt heavy as if litt
E weights were sitting on the lashes and the purples seemed to check out.
Drifting through space. Not as scary as some people would think, once you get past the whole, “I’m never going to be found again” thing. It’s really peaceful out here, if not a little chilly, but I really don’t mind. I lived a good life and accomplished many things. Hell, I even got to see Earth from a distance, which I can continue to look at until I die.
A passing flock of geese woke her up. Everything hurt, and her clothes were soaked.
The last thing she remembered was falling asleep in the cabin of her sister’s sailboat.
Drfting in open water on a damaged raft with no land in sight, she prays for rescue…
and answers.
along water, through the lake. the forst and sky is blooming in front of you. The water is green, translucent and gripping. You feel the sun beating on your face. the water carries you futhur and futhur. you love this feeling, wind in your hair
I was drifting in the avenue,
I saw the sky and fell in love
with the pinks and the blues,
I saw the people,
and I fell in love with them too.
The lights and the pleasure of being by myself
made me forget about you.
I’m drifting away up here, tucked behind the iron grille that’s supposed to keep people from jumping off the top of the stairwell. Falling wouldn’t be much of a problem, as Florence said – at least then he wouldn’t be gone, I wouldn’t be thinking about it at all. But no; falling is a problem, and the drifting is too lovely, all the air shimmering, the city in the distance, everything in miniature, as though I could fold it all up back into the pop-up book from whence it came. I could be here for hours, past sundown, and no one would interrupt. I could be alone. I could shout at him, yell all the things I never did, all the times I only listened and was an empty shell. Up here I can detach, forget the fear of relating, of belonging, and drift away into that bluish ether – memory. I’ll swim through them all, swim weightless in air, only to end up back on the concrete floor, curled in this secret corner where the wind barely whispers.
I think it is like a car moving down a race track. I think drifting is like something gliding smoothly over something. May it be physical or not, i think it is like going very fast and being able to pass over something with great ease.
Drifting away on clouds of smoke and broken dreams and what else was there for me here?
Close my eyes and wander, through ashes and hopes and strange emotions.
What was this?
I was never alive before. I am not alive now. I am…
I am.
Is there anything else to say?
I am.
I exist.
That I am merely drifting through existence matters none.
I FELL AS IF I AM DRIFTING AWAY. MY ENTIRE LIFE IS DRIFTING. MY FAMILY AS IT WAS IS DRIFTING INTO AN UNKNOWN THAT I NO LONGER CAN RECOGNIZE. I SO WISH MY HIGH SCHOOL DID NOT NEED TO DRIFT AWAY. IN A LARGER SENSE, I WISH LIFE DIDN’T HAVE TO DRIFT AWAY. I MISS YOU GRAMMY.
i am alone and drifting away.blown by the tormented and hazardous rain.gosh help me as if i am drifting apart from myself and from everybody else in this whole world.
movement that is aimless. Living in the “modern world” we are constantly moving. We like to think that we are moving forward but are we actually achieving progress? We sometimes move so quickly that we fail to look behind, remember where we came from and take the time to reflect so that we do not make the same errors.
Sad words. Trigger sad things. Sad disposition?
I don’t know what I want these days, not that I ever really did, but even that shred of direction seems to have dissipated. Now I’m just stumbling through the motions, waiting to either drop out of life, waiting for the call to action, there’s a boon somewhere, and it’s waiting just for me.
I’m on a cloud, looking down at myself and wondering where the life went to. Where is the life that I had, the life that I knew – where have I drifted off to, and why didn’t I tie myself down with the chains that I had at first in port. Why did I let this all happen – questions I don’t have the answer to, and maybe never will, but I look back as I go on, and I wonder what might have happened if I’d stayed in my own body, instead of seeking a new land in my dreams.
drifting….drifting away. i want to drift away. lift me up and place me somewhere warm and welcome. i want to drift with the cold wind shills, shiver, home…home to where i belong, the place i’ve never been, the place i belong…drifting…would love to be drifting there right now. my mind is always drifting. drifting. and i just hate when my mind goes drifting back to you. drifting right back. to… you.
Ahahaha totally reminds me of when I first began driving. I always had this tendency to drift, and it almost caused me to get in an accident, and more than once. This word also reminds me of marching band, because all the silly freshmen have difficulties marching because they drift so often.
You are stranded in blazing sunlight that brings out the blonde in your hair and raises dormant freckles to the top of your skin. You stretch languidly, drifting along leisurely through smooth-glass water that bounces brilliant light off the prow of your little boat. Cool salt air tangles around you as you see the red of your closed eyelids in the sun’s rays. You feel hot, but not uncomfortably so; crossing shadows of crying sea birds offer flickering shade.
The sea has been and always will be your home.
The crowd screamed as he raced around the corner, floating on the pavement. He slowly pulled ahead into first place and the crowd was roaring, though he couldn’t hear it over the screech of the tires and the soothing roar of the engine.
Drifting. Lazily laying back and letting whatever happens happens. NOthing matters, it just goes by. It begins, than continues until the end. Nothing fazes your drift, it just carries you on.
i can feel her drifting away from me, i lay my head on the picture and imagine life with out her. my world will end without her.
I just watched Martha Marcy May Marlene, and one of the scenes, near the end, where she’s treading water behind her sister’s house. . . the lake or river or whatever body of water she was in not only looked black, but looked like it had some sort of current, and I pictured her drifting away. . .
The movie ends under different circumstances. Go watch it.
And then I saw her. Drifting through the crowd, wearing a white sweater, and a navy skirt that fit her so well. Swaying to the mamas and the papas’ “dream a little dream of me”. She had her eyes closed, a dreamy smile on her face. God, she was beautiful. And so alive. She opened her eyes and smiled that mischievous smile at me. I half expected her to disappear into the crowd, but instead found myself being pulled around in a circle to dance with her. I couldn’t stop smiling. She couldn’t either, and I wonder if maybe she was happy to see me, or if she was just happy to have found her way back home. I still don’t know, and I don’t care. Because that moment was one of the most perfect things I’ve ever experienced. In my memory, we dance all night to that one song, grinning like idiots.
When two hearts are drifting apart, masks begin to show once again. You don’t know the person anymore, and the person doesn’t know you. Shots of pain come flying from the sky, from the hearts of those that once loved you, from those that miss, from those that wonder.
The clouds are drifting from the sun. There’s a blue sky behind the gray, rays that kiss the skin with gold and warmth. There once was a tree who sat alone in the hills. Apples would on its branch. The people would take them, eat them and never return.
I float between the clouds, looking up and down and all around. I look for you, your sky-like eyes. Blue and grey and full of sunlight. You drifted off to sleep and lay your soft lips on mine. I felt your body warm and soft and drifted on Cloud 9.
I was becoming undeniably unfit. I had to admit it to myself before moving on. I started by cutting most things off my diet that weren’t fruit or coffee. My work out was to commence tomorrow. But I couldn’t go to the gym without letting him see how fat I’d become. But dammit I need to get my moneys worth.
She’d been drifting for a while now. Down to the corner store across the park. Back up to the swing set. Over to the copse of trees. If she remained still, people would ask her where her parents were. She didn’t know.
to sleep, my mind, my dear. the clouds, the wind, my soul is not drifting, but floating. sometimes I want to fly away, but eventually I will get tired, and I’ll come back. I’ll always come back home. to you, because I don’t know where else I’d want to be.
The log was drifting down the river like a little boat caught in the stream of life. At the front of the stick sat two tiny turtles, Tim and Tina who had set out for an adventure of a life time. They had never traveled outside of the pond, 5 years of the same seen, trees, toads, fish, dragon flys, they were ready to spread their shells and fly. Tim was the older of the two but Tina was by far the bravest of the duo. Her bravery and his senesce of wonder led them to the log that day. Though Tim was hungry for some action he also liked to play it safe. It took Tina double dog daring him to make him step out of his comfort zone and onto the ride of their life.
Now, they had been warned by all the older turtles that they should never ever leave the pond. There was nothing good beyond the forest and that everything they every needed could be found among their own kind. Tina spent most of her life trying to ignore the nagging feeling that would tug on her heart whenever she heard the elder turtles voices in her head. “could this really be true she would think to herself?”
I am a wanderer. I am a homeless one, seeking comfort in the cracks and crevices of the world- perpetually lonely, always lost. The world is only a plane of existence for me to wander; there is no gravity to tether my soul to anything else. I am forever chasing another sunset.
I can only remember a couple of times in my life in which i felt i was drifting: love and drift racing. They are two quite different things but have in common the feeling of addrenalin, a rush.
Drifting in happens as well. That’s what I use this exercise as. A coming out from the ocean of busy thought, of a feeling-nothing bustle of moment to moment into the examined curiosity and creativity of concentrated ability. A delicate skimming of the bottom of my boat, the wet sand sifting, and a sudden halt.
Drifting away from me is the one i love. Once a live bird, followed by the slaughter. Next was the cleaning and covering in warm but moist liquid followed by a breadcrumb, into the frying pan into a boat served next to vegtables into a humans mouth through the digestive system into cold yellow water until the ground falls out and i become at mercy to gravity and in a dark water slide into other boyont objects that look like myself. =(
Drifting in and out of sleep as I sat in the passanger seat trying to help keep him awake as he drove the 400 mile stretch from oneside of California to the next. My eyes felt heavy as if litt
E weights were sitting on the lashes and the purples seemed to check out.
Drifting through space. Not as scary as some people would think, once you get past the whole, “I’m never going to be found again” thing. It’s really peaceful out here, if not a little chilly, but I really don’t mind. I lived a good life and accomplished many things. Hell, I even got to see Earth from a distance, which I can continue to look at until I die.
A passing flock of geese woke her up. Everything hurt, and her clothes were soaked.
The last thing she remembered was falling asleep in the cabin of her sister’s sailboat.
Drfting in open water on a damaged raft with no land in sight, she prays for rescue…
and answers.
along water, through the lake. the forst and sky is blooming in front of you. The water is green, translucent and gripping. You feel the sun beating on your face. the water carries you futhur and futhur. you love this feeling, wind in your hair
Drifting,
drifting,
drifting.
I am not lost; I am not homeless. I am merely
driftwood
in the river
which no one has yet named.
I witnessed it drifting by the shadows of your longing.
i feel myself drifting in and out of confidence and depression
all based on my body
and the fluctuations of the numbers on the scale.
you say god made me this way?
why does god hate me?
I was drifting in the avenue,
I saw the sky and fell in love
with the pinks and the blues,
I saw the people,
and I fell in love with them too.
The lights and the pleasure of being by myself
made me forget about you.
I’m drifting away up here, tucked behind the iron grille that’s supposed to keep people from jumping off the top of the stairwell. Falling wouldn’t be much of a problem, as Florence said – at least then he wouldn’t be gone, I wouldn’t be thinking about it at all. But no; falling is a problem, and the drifting is too lovely, all the air shimmering, the city in the distance, everything in miniature, as though I could fold it all up back into the pop-up book from whence it came. I could be here for hours, past sundown, and no one would interrupt. I could be alone. I could shout at him, yell all the things I never did, all the times I only listened and was an empty shell. Up here I can detach, forget the fear of relating, of belonging, and drift away into that bluish ether – memory. I’ll swim through them all, swim weightless in air, only to end up back on the concrete floor, curled in this secret corner where the wind barely whispers.
I think it is like a car moving down a race track. I think drifting is like something gliding smoothly over something. May it be physical or not, i think it is like going very fast and being able to pass over something with great ease.
Aimless wandering. Swaying in the wind, pushed and pulled by effervescent yearning. That is what it’s like now that you’re gone.
I slowly fall asleep
Drifting down stream
What of where i’m going
is somewhere in my dreams.
waking up and looking around
Wow, we must be drifting
down stream.
Drifting away on clouds of smoke and broken dreams and what else was there for me here?
Close my eyes and wander, through ashes and hopes and strange emotions.
What was this?
I was never alive before. I am not alive now. I am…
I am.
Is there anything else to say?
I am.
I exist.
That I am merely drifting through existence matters none.
a set sail
decides a path swerving
in right directions
abrupt
adrift in a sea of coiling serpents
seize this moment
to manufacture yourself
a man
I FELL AS IF I AM DRIFTING AWAY. MY ENTIRE LIFE IS DRIFTING. MY FAMILY AS IT WAS IS DRIFTING INTO AN UNKNOWN THAT I NO LONGER CAN RECOGNIZE. I SO WISH MY HIGH SCHOOL DID NOT NEED TO DRIFT AWAY. IN A LARGER SENSE, I WISH LIFE DIDN’T HAVE TO DRIFT AWAY. I MISS YOU GRAMMY.
i am alone and drifting away.blown by the tormented and hazardous rain.gosh help me as if i am drifting apart from myself and from everybody else in this whole world.
movement that is aimless. Living in the “modern world” we are constantly moving. We like to think that we are moving forward but are we actually achieving progress? We sometimes move so quickly that we fail to look behind, remember where we came from and take the time to reflect so that we do not make the same errors.
Drifting away into the sea. No one knows, and no one can see. Lost in the drift, I don’t think I’ll ever be found. If only I had drowned.
being worng about something
Sad words. Trigger sad things. Sad disposition?
I don’t know what I want these days, not that I ever really did, but even that shred of direction seems to have dissipated. Now I’m just stumbling through the motions, waiting to either drop out of life, waiting for the call to action, there’s a boon somewhere, and it’s waiting just for me.
I’m on a cloud, looking down at myself and wondering where the life went to. Where is the life that I had, the life that I knew – where have I drifted off to, and why didn’t I tie myself down with the chains that I had at first in port. Why did I let this all happen – questions I don’t have the answer to, and maybe never will, but I look back as I go on, and I wonder what might have happened if I’d stayed in my own body, instead of seeking a new land in my dreams.
drifting….drifting away. i want to drift away. lift me up and place me somewhere warm and welcome. i want to drift with the cold wind shills, shiver, home…home to where i belong, the place i’ve never been, the place i belong…drifting…would love to be drifting there right now. my mind is always drifting. drifting. and i just hate when my mind goes drifting back to you. drifting right back. to… you.
Ahahaha totally reminds me of when I first began driving. I always had this tendency to drift, and it almost caused me to get in an accident, and more than once. This word also reminds me of marching band, because all the silly freshmen have difficulties marching because they drift so often.
You are stranded in blazing sunlight that brings out the blonde in your hair and raises dormant freckles to the top of your skin. You stretch languidly, drifting along leisurely through smooth-glass water that bounces brilliant light off the prow of your little boat. Cool salt air tangles around you as you see the red of your closed eyelids in the sun’s rays. You feel hot, but not uncomfortably so; crossing shadows of crying sea birds offer flickering shade.
The sea has been and always will be your home.
The crowd screamed as he raced around the corner, floating on the pavement. He slowly pulled ahead into first place and the crowd was roaring, though he couldn’t hear it over the screech of the tires and the soothing roar of the engine.
Drifting. Lazily laying back and letting whatever happens happens. NOthing matters, it just goes by. It begins, than continues until the end. Nothing fazes your drift, it just carries you on.