Sincerity

The wind blew through the blinds and sucked back in gusts, and the rain danced amongst the leaves as they tapped little routines inconsistently along the branches. The thunder quaked and shook the skies and was followed by a bright flash that was the earth's only source of light. The little infra-red numbers on the alarm clock buzzed out as the power went down through-out the entire neighbourhood. There was nothing in the air but slight snorts, and restful sighs as she lay next to her love. She couldn't see anything except when the lightening lit up the room for a split second. With every flash, she visioned images that seemed to just spin together. They wound together so perfectly, it was like seeing their lives right before her eyes; a video of their lives before it even started. With every inhale and exhale she imagined a new picture, a new part of their life.

The wheel continues to roll, ticking, clicking, and showing snippets of what could be. The lightening strikes and another picture is shown: She's sitting on the sand with her love in her arms, on a night just like tonight. There's fireworks in the sky, and people all around, but the picture is only focused on the two cuddled together on the wet blanket. Ticking and clicking, the wheel moves on.

Again, the light flashes, and a new picture is seen. The power is out again, and all is shown is a candle lit room with a crib in one corner, and one sleeping body on the floor, and one cradling a baby in a chair right beside the crib. The essence of the room is maternally soothing, and nothing short of happiness at its best.The thunder crashes and its followed by another light streak. A tent made of sheets and cushions is shown. The tent is illuminated with a dim light and two large shadows are seen with a little one in between. One of the bigger shadows has their arms up as if they're doing shadow puppets against the sheet wall while the little one has their arms up trying to copy. Tick, tick, tick, tick, another crash is heard.

One more picture is shown, a family sitting in their living room. The power is out again, and there are two elderly people sitting side by side on a love seat, and a young adult holding a flashlight on what is assumed to be their family; their spouse and young baby. The elderly two are smiling, and look highly content. The living room is the same as the room the tent was in in the previous picture. Clicking, and one last clap of thunder and the reel stops.
 

I am a crayon...

-- I am a crayon, used by many.... unfortunately the more I am used the quicker I disintigrate. I am part of a famil of many, I create peices of art. For I am just black. Used as an outline, a smudge or a filler. No child wants to pick up a black crayon and start drawing. I am dull, frigid and alone. For I am not even a colour I am a shade.

Not In Love

Let the sunlight in
You might never get this chance again
So take a deep breath and hold it in
You should take a picture-Cause you might never see me again
I said take a deep breath and hold it in

Because you're not in love
There's no way you possibly could
You shouldn't even like this
You just like the way it looks
If this is the end, and what's done is done
Then I wont have to keep hurting anyone

So let the wind take its course over everything
You have no control when it's out of your hands
You should take a minute for it all to settle in
I said take a deep breath and hold it in

Because you're not in love
There's no way you possibly could
You shouldn't even like this
You just like the way it looks
If this is the end, and what's done is done
Then I wont have to keep hurting anyone

Let the sunlight in
You better get as much as you can
Cause you might never feel the same again
And take the wind, let it blow away everything
I said take a deep breath and hold it in

Because you're not in love
There's no way you possibly could
You shouldn't even like this
You just like the way it looks
If this is the end, and what's done is done
Then I wont have to keep hurting anyone 

... give it up

It's always been based upon a boy, a guy, a man but never myself. I turn back time and pages, just to scribble in a moment with them. My schedule is erased, and their names are inscribed all over the surfaces my life consumes.
What if my name was chiseled on-top of a gravestone, would it matter then- would all my wasted efforts be looked upon...
A name, then another, and so forth- just a number and a tear. Each was said to last, said to feel good, said to care- but look at me; I am just a number to them as well, a name, a girl, some chick from back in the day.

I wish I could say with time things change, but honestly time makes things worse... I don't think I can physically/mentally/emotionally, erase and rip out the pages of my life and have them blank. Maybe one day someone will fill me in-mark my name on a date, and remember me as a celebration.

But to me all thats left is the remainder of the days, and which name gets penciled where...

picture face...

I see you constantly staring, those beady eyes seem to be fixated-in on one spot, the same spot, and it never changes. The melons which are ever encoded with blues, greens and browns are covered by a white glaze, I become hungry-only to realize I would blinde you for a taste. Those freckles make me want to play connect the dots with my knife, an carve away at what is left of you, only to re-create a master piece. It makes me twist my head ever so slightly to the right, waiting for the right moment to make my move...