"Most of us can be broken by just the possibility of what might happen." -Anil's Ghost

The angles of your wrists
preserve a certain mystery,
unknown by any lips
or written down in history.

To measure their degree
would solve the oldest questions —
providence and alchemy
answered in your gestures.

But god and gold will never rival
the way your fingers curl.
They hold my breath’s arrival
like a rare and undiscovered pearl.

Maybe it comes from all those little faults you start noticing, like cracks in your skin, wrinkles? And they stare at you in the most unwavering faces that ease into your eyes, pouring against your ribs like smooth whiskey, except this time it’s tequila and you laugh at yourself, knowing each night will lift the haze from your eyes, yet it isn’t completely gone just yet. So you stare at the fixtures of lights blending outside your only window, where your good soldiers rest for duty tomorrow on the windowsill, each second ticketing the sound of reality crashing in full when finally the rush of color overwhelms your senses and the light blinds you like another fragmented memory of a swimming pool in suburban Georgia, where the hot and sticky heat washes over you like honey, sweet and savoring and glistening, but the beast still stirs within thick fur, jagged claws and jagged fangs, each second bringing him closer to your wall and door and frame and you feel it on your neck, its red eyes reflecting the fires outside, knowing its claws are digging within your flesh and you scream, scream, scream, scream until the blood boils deep within your veins and all that is staring at you is the stale warmth of mid-winter sunshine and it feels like a dream.

This much though I’m sure of: I’m alone in hostile territories with no clue why they’re hostile or how to get back to safe havens, an Old Haven, a lost haven, the temperature dropping, the hour heaving & pitching towards a profound darkness, while before me my idiotic amaurotic Guide laughs, actually cackles is more like it, lost in his own litany of inside jokes, completely out of his head, out of focus too, zonules of Zinn, among other things, having snappy long ago like piano wires, leaving me with absolutely no sound way to determine where the hell I’m going, though right now going to hell seems like a pretty sound bet.

Don't you ever think of going back?

"There are threads that help you find your way back, and there are threads that intend to bring you back. Mind turns to the pull, it's hard to pull away. I'm always thinking of going back."

------

"People do go back, but they don't survive, because two realities are claiming them at the same time. Such things are too much. You can salt your heart, or kill your heart, or you can choose between the two realities. There is much pain here. Some people think you can have your cake and eat it. The cake goes moldy and they choke on what's left. Going back after a long time will make you mad, because the people you left behind do not like to think of you changed, will treat you as they always did, accuse you of being indifferent, when you are only different."

"Now she seemed to have forgotten everything. It made me want to shake her, to pull of all my clothes in the middle of the street and yell, 'Remember this body?' Time is a great deadener; people forget, get bored, grow old, go away. She said that not much had happened between us anyway, historically speaking. But history is a string full of knots, the best you can do is admire it, and maybe knot it up a bit more."

"Perhaps it was the snow, or the food, or the impossibility of my life that made me hope to go to bed and wake up with the past intact. I seemed to have run in a great circle, and met myself again on the starting line."

-----

"Families, real ones, are chairs and tables and the right number of cups, but I had no means of joining one, and no means of dismissing my own; she had tied a thread around my button, to tug when she pleased."

[Jeanette Winterson]

Current song obsession:

Somebody that I Used to Know - Gotye

Let the week of commuting begin!

This isn't so bad :) Plenty of singing time! I have a feeling I'm going to be incredibly sleepy come Saturday....but these dogs are so adorable and fun to cuddle :) Plus, it's nice and quiet for the most part....it's rather relaxing. Time for some meetings and then hauling myself back over the river and through the woods!

That awkward moment when fiction novels become real life...

My faith in humanity seems to dwindle with each passing day; some days it just plummets. Yesterday was one of those days. Fifteen hours of work doesn't help with the chaos, but fortunately I have one of the best boyfriends a girl could ask for... add a friendly ear and an overabundance of tea and video games and I am a much calmer person. 

Today was considerably better though...holed myself up in the library loft for a while to get some homework and reading done. Found the rest of my tea and my loose-leaf teapot. Now I just have a six hour babysitting shift to make it through and then I'm pretty much free for the rest of the weekend!

Edit: Finished with work for the weekend (sans housesitting) and now have a whole sunday to myself...what is this madness?!