kundalini

My ankle is better, I can actually walk on it now, almost hard to believe since Tuesday night I was writhing in pain on my bed with a bag of ice taped around my ankle and I had to take a handful of Advil just to fall asleep. I won't be running down the steps anytime soon...

8:37 PM
I got out of class early. No running from Brown to my truck in the Lawson Lot.

If you see Katherine at Taste of Kalamazoo with her boyfriend, don't tell her that I have an infantile crush on her. As a twenty-nine year old, shouldn't I be over this shit? Shouldn't I be able to get past the butterflies and the way her brain intimidates me? I'm a smart guy, shouldn't I be able to speak freely? Why do I feel so small and insignificant around this beautiful smart girl...? Am I forever doomed to pointless anonymous ramblings and bad poetry on a website filled with beautiful girls, the likes of which I'll never know?

Lie

These simple pages lie
they come closer
to what I want to be
than what I am
they are just a dream
of something more beautiful
than my troubled being
words more pure
than my dessicated tongue
can gather

I write lies
I write of the ungrasped
the moment missed
the opportunity that never existed in the first place
and this is my mark
these words are my trail
out of that which is deep and dark
and then back in again


Not Enough

I know her gaze finds me wanting
In her eyes I do not measure up
and I wonder...
Is the man whose arms she imagines
herself wrapped in at night
taller
or smarter
or stronger
Or is it more intangible?
Vague things that she knows
she wants
or rather thinks
because some part of her is static
unchanged since
he held her last
and they weathered some storm together,
and I am dangerous
like a storm myself.