jenijoy

jenijoy

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Monitor my heart to ensure that it beats, beats. A cold green line spiked on a screen of black. It does not measure pain or pleasure, but rather existence. The existence of the organ, but not the blood that powers it, nor the soul that makes the blood flow. You have stopped the flow, yet it still beats, beats.

I am upright, if only in appearance. Even if, in reality, I have been torn in too many pieces to be called upright, but rather everywhere, like confetti in the wind, uncertain of where I shall be blown next, only knowing that it will be away from you, and that is better than towards you.

alibi

I have an alibi for my behavior. It involves emotions. Lots and lots of emotions. The kind that twist through your blood and make you do terrible things, horrible things. Things that make you think, when you are alone, that the wolves you are hearing howling in the wind are not outside. Not even outside your house. They are inside. Inside of you.

Poster child for destruction, with a cigarette in his mouth and something rolling inside of him that dictates more. More than following law or lead. Some would call it less,but he is certain that it is more, that he is more, and that is exactly why he lets that cigarette burn down to his blackened lips.

Temper, temper, tied to a chair and never let to see the light of day. Temper in a woman's heart that builds as she is told that ladies do not have tempers. No, instead we wait with our doilies and our baited breath, knowing that we are not allowed to be angry at anything, because there is so much to be angry about.

brick

Life is like a brick. It crashes through windows. It hits you in the face--and when it does, it hurts. It builds things--which is contrary to the thought that you build a life. Really, life builds YOU and lays around waiting for you to do something with it. Like a ton of bricks.

drain

I could drain myself of poison the way one drains water through a sieve. I would like to think my body doesn't hold malice well, but I know that sometimes the time comes to let go of all the silt that settles somewhere under the stomach. Cleanse yourself of bitterness, drain yourself of hate.

route

I am on route to something. It exist somewhere in a melancholy unborn phase, but it will soon be born, breaking out like the sun over my horizon. Then, and maybe that time is now, I will see the beauty in every face, and hear music in the inked shapes of every letter in my pages.

I could transport you any place you wanted to go, but you won't buy tickets. I could show you things that you thought you'd never see, but you won't look. I could sing songs full of words you've needed to hear for years, but you won't listen. I could love you like no one has ever loved anyone before, but you won't notice.

I thought the door was closed, but little did I know that all the while, it was jammed in the middle. We both thought the other had locked it, but in reality, there was something lodged between us, something we hadn't even seen, and now that it's gone, we can pass freely, like breezes, or ghosts, or friends.

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writing since 2010 · 17 entries · 17 days shown up

each square is a day—lit means Jeni showed up.

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17days written

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on this day 16 years ago

Jeni wrote about stood
“I stood at the feet of the goddess Athena and wondered how far we have come- from worshipping wisdom to worshipping fear. From seeking understanding through our imaginations to delegating our decisio…”

the words Jeni reaches for

lovefullnowhabitbeatssomewhereheartbuildstemperinsidebloodfallfarworshippingfearoverjoyed