My name is Casey

Like Most Revelations

It is the movement that incites the form,
discovered as a downward rapture--yes,
it is the movement that delights the form,
sustained by its own velocity.And yet

it is the movement that delays the form
while darkness slows and encumbers; in fact
it is the movement that betrays the form,
baffled in such toils of ease, until

it is the movement that deceives the form,
beguiling our attention--we supposed
it is the movement that achieves the form.
Were we mistaken? What does it matter if

it is the movement that negates the form?
Even though we give (give up) ourselves
to this mortal process of continuing,
it is the movement that creates the form.

Richard Howard


You turn to me with frozen lips
Your hands are icy cold
Your eyes burn bright against the frostbit sky
You never seemed more lovely than you do tonight
Pale on the horizon,
Like leaves frozen on the snow
Our two shadows merge inseperably
And time stands still as its pierced with cold

The more I live
The more I know
What's simple is true
I love you

There's a warmth in my heart
That haunts me when you're gone
Mend me to your side,
Never let go
So time knows nothing
We'll never grow cold
The more I live
The more I know
What's simple is true
I love you
Twilight descends on our silhouette
How soon spring comes
How soon spring forgets
I wanna hold time, say it'll never begin
Old man winter, be our friend
Old man winter, be our friend
The more I live
The more I know
What's simple is true
What's simple is true
I love you
I love you

designed by jo naz

Tuesday, November 09, 2004

 

Changed my screenname from "itsalljustlovely" to "ITSALLJUSTLOVELY" as if to say "Its all just FUCKING lovely OKAY?!"

I suppose I'm getting tired of the relentless questioning... I do not like to be dissected against my will and I do not like to lie. These two things do not equivocate well. There is no "happy medium."

We fell through the ice when we tried not to slip...

How true is that of my life? Any attempt at moderation and carefulness leads me head first into icy water. I feel like I'm in icy water and I can't find anywhere to breathe. My legs have forgotten how to move, my hands have abandoned me... however... my mind is painfully active. I am painfully aware of how helpless I am in this situation.

My father told me once I could be anything I wanted when I grew up... I've decided what I want to be. I want to be okay. I want to meet a day where my mind doesn't wander into the deep abyss of my childhood. I want to stop having to explain away bruises and tears. I want it all to have been different, but I know better than such wishes. I know what any change would have lead to... but I don't know what future change will accomplish either.

I won't be held responsible.

I hate this looming responsibility concerned with change and the way I feel. I hate how I feel when out of my mouth slips a reference to a scar or a bruise or a run-in with my father. I hate making him worry about me and there is nothing I can do. I do not know how to make this go away. I know there has to have been a time when I was okay, when I was normal and I just don't know how to find that place anymore. I don't know how to make him stop worrying and I don't know why I feel the need to even discuss it when it just makes things that much harder for him.

I do not know; who I am, who I am supposed to be, how to be who I want to be, what the words inside my head mean, how to make this go away, how to be okay, how to let go, how to forgive, how to leave, how to forget, how to move on, when it's okay to talk about it, what to say, when it's okay to lie, how to explain it, how to cover it, how to change it, how to tell dreams from reality, how to know if that was real, how to know if it really happened, how to know what i should say about it, how to make it stop haunting my nightmares, how to tell anyone.

I do not know how to dance anymore. My feet are clay, my body porcelain. Be gentle with me; I break. I am more brittle now than I was when I was skin and bones with only silence binding my sinews together. Now instead of silence I have hate congealing around my muscles and preventing any motion or emotion. All of this with a thick haze of confusion making it all the harder to know what has actually happened. Is it as bad as I think it is?

There is the evil you know, and the one you don't. I was thoroughly convinced that my passion for feminism and my nightmares in general were vicarious. I'm remembering things that I don't think are real. I'm reading words I wrote on my flesh that I can logically comprehend, but don't understand why they're on me.

You can't get legal protection based on speculation, but I can't get solace from a lack of knowledge.

I love you |4:50 PM