sometimes, my head explodes

She said, perhaps April 19, 2010

Filed under: in.between,my evolution — somniare @ 7:29 pm

I found one sparkling silver-white hair today. Amidst the ashy greys and the black that is slowly becoming overwhelmed, this single strand caught my eye. Like a prized souvenir, it glistened there full of memories… nights to forget bleeding into days to remember… broken glass and fingernails and hearts… a spine curved beneath the weight of a burdened mind… the soreness in a phantom scar that should have long been healed but never let go.

In that one thread- a life I treasure, regret, own, and belong to. All at once, there came sadness and a smile. Maybe it’s all okay.


3:16 AM July 22, 2008

Filed under: in.between — somniare @ 2:30 am

I seem to have forgotten how to sleep tonight. I can’t help but think that my mind is simply rebelling.

The sad discovery… I sleep better with hopelessness. When it’s as dark inside as the night sky, I can slip fluidly into repose. Oil on water under a starless sky.

There is a light sneaking through the blinds. It pulls at my eyelids. It tests my will. My skin warms, the blankets become a burden. I am unaccustomed to the brightness… the heat… radiating despite the sorrow of solitude.

Not even sadness can sing my lullaby tonight.


rinse, repeat March 1, 2008

Filed under: in.between,my evolution,somniac — somniare @ 11:02 am

Questioning the many moons
revolving quantum lies
and a day late eclipse.

These are my late night words. This is what runs through my head while I sleep. Cryptic and foreboding. Like a final breath expelled, the last chapter has reached it’s conclusion. Inspiration is finite.

My limits have been reached and I stand at the edge of the world looking into space, contemplating mysteries and craving knowledge and new experience. It’s an unquenchable thirst and all I can do is stare at the distant oasis in this barren desert. Impasse.

I’d claim hiatus… but it could be a lie as it often is. Just when I’ve shriveled to nearly nothing, I stumble out into the rain and drink.

My drive is incubating. I refuse to let it waste… so I feed it. I read, I talk, I listen… absorbing. Perhaps it will blossom again. I’d like to think so.

Until then, know that I am not dead… just sleeping. And everything is alright. Gentle repose… the pause between heartbeats… the space between atoms… I lay there now.

This symphonic coda, a dramatic summation at the end of an era. I am realigning for a new epoch… the time draws near.


nocturnal insanity… again February 14, 2008

Filed under: from the mute to the deaf,in.between — somniare @ 12:49 am

I needed to look at something new, so I borrowed a page from the book of another. Not a literal page from a tangible book… simply the importance of screaming… even if no one is listening.

I feel like my thoughts are constantly yelling, “LET ME OUT!! JUST SAY HOW YOU FEEL FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE!!” I try, and try, and try… and everything just comes out all wrong. My emotions tangle together in a knot… like the way I find anger overlapping adoration simply because it’s easier to be mad than it is to admit how much I care. What I mean and what I say become two separate and equally misguided missiles/ Meanings shooting inward to obliterate my mind and speech sent like swarms of angry bees unsure as to whether they should guard their hive or chase their target miles from home.

More and more, I’m finding myself shying away from goals that seem to be unattainable. I used to be so ambitious… fearless in my attempts to get what I want after entering adulthood. Now I’m back to being the withdrawn little girl I couldn’t shake off in my early school days.

This whole thing comes out with a tone of desperation… each sentence ending in a pleading pitch as if everything is a question. The rise and fall of octaves displayed only in the throes of tantrums and the moments before the voice cracks and tears rise hot behind every blink. Yet as I catch my reflection in the glass surrounding this desk, my face illuminated only by the glow of the monitor, you can see nothing more than a lackluster stare and my standard lazy pout… only the occasional scrunching and raising of my brows to give away the possibility of complex thought. The lack of emotion in my face is sickening. What have I turned into?

I always feel slightly insane at the end of the night. I sit down to unwind before I lay down in bed to stare at the ceiling but find myself unable to soothe all that has built up throughout the course of every dynamic day. Even in complete boredom, there’s always something going on for me… something I want to say, somewhere I’d rather be, something I hope or long for, something I crave like a drug. There’s never the emptiness of nothing to just sink into, to engulf me and shut down this cesspool of useless thought. I’d be willing to guess that even in death, I might never find peace.

As the years wear on, I’ll continue this as I always have. Attempting to sort and organize and grow… perhaps one day I’ll scream something more productive than obscenities or cliche. Will anyone still be there when I come around? I can’t bear to be the only one bound to me forever. I’ll only push myself over the edge one day. Does anyone see that I might not take you down with me, but instead rise to the surface? I haven’t seen the light in a long time… hold my hand and pull me out please. I don’t ask for much…


gathering dust January 28, 2008

Filed under: in.between — somniare @ 5:35 pm

I hate that I sit for days welling to the brim of things to say but lack the time to sit down and get them out. By the time I sit down, dissipation has begun and I’m left grasping at my ideas as they drift like dust in the light.

Isn’t that how most things work though? I feel like I spend most of my life reaching. Even when I can grasp a hold, the grip is tenuous and I feel the slip. When I do have a firm hold, I find that only having two hands means that whatever may pass by during the struggle is left to it’s own devices while I am indisposed. Who knows what is lost while the focus is on one level of salvation.

Meanwhile, in the midst of all of this holding tight and letting go, I just watch. There is peace sometimes in just watching your thoughts swim in the vacant space behind eyelids. Eventually, the dust will settle and the entertainment of envisioning shapes against the light will evaporate…. until something stirs it up again.


begin.interrupted October 23, 2007

Filed under: in.between — somniare @ 12:50 pm

Unsound transitions and the threat of broken promise hover like dying mayflies. God, I hate that incessant buzzing… make it silent.

I lack reassurance in a world where I’ve been forced into a cycle of digression and isolation in order to retain the smallest iota of peace. When everything around me fails, composure is all I can fall back on in effort to merely remain sane in the chaos.

How can one truly accept an opportunity to escape when there is no ability to cease even the predictable tidal changes that when left unattended, abandon their ebb and flow and undulate into voids of despondency. Tangible as smoke… my flailing is ineffectual and grabbing a hold is nothing more than futile.

I am a mess of contradictions. Change yet remain unchanged.

Those with their self proclaimed wisdom and states of proposed enlightenment give me hope.
Their lives written in stanzas of nescience and pretension.
Spilling their proposed truths and realities, thick as blood flowing through waste encrusted arteries.
The epitome of all that suffocates. Without them, existence is uninspiring. I seek, not to rise above, but to never accept a reflection of myself within these vagrant mirrors.

Meandering in and out of our inadvertent circles, the linear path is my ivory tower. My way out of redundancy. Away from languid smiles, and all that perpetuates my mental decomposition. Creative destitution is imminent when trapped in cycles where the only end involves devouring and regurgitating the beginning.