Jaded. Fragmented. Fallen.
Always Rising.

Sunday, October 9, 2005
08:24 p.m.
i remember driving 12 hours just to get back home.
just to find out that i don't know where that is.

but sumhow i'm here.
and it is here that i've been staying.
thinking. dreaming. playing.

i still haven't thrown those cigarettes away.

they seem to be my only friends.
addiction is a comforting certainty.
kraziness, i never used to believe.
thought they were bad for you.
the devil verses a good life-
there are worse things.
broken hearts that kill you frum the inside out.
unmade beds that you so desperately want to lie in again.
broken paths to dreams that you should never have made.

i sit here. alone. and sumhow i'm not afraid.
asked, are you ready to be alone-
i don't even know wat game to play.

and after thinking,
i have always been.
am i ready to be with sumone?
that's the real bleeding truth,
vividly scrawled upon my arm.
reminds me of the sexual abuse.
the rape.
the nights that i used to lay awake.
crying. wishing for death.
the times i could sanely sit
and watch the blood pour frum my skin.

i'm not alone tonight.
tonight i can look outside and see the world.
view its ugliness and yet see the beauty in it.
tonight there are no answers.
and i know as i try to sleep,
the questions will be polluting.
endless questions drowning.

maybe my view is warped.
maybe that cocaine is really me.
-alysia-

Sunday, October 9, 2005
08:21 p.m.
so this is life.
me angry all the time.
me with wet hair.
me with prying eyes.

i want to understand.
and yet i like this hole.
this addiction to words
like they are the only things that can
seal up this wound.

i don't even know where i got it.
who slashed me.
how i became addicted to its blood.

oh look the lil goth gurl has feelings.
oh look the young woman who holds
the promise of the world is scared.

beauty doesn't mean anything to me.
i'd give it away for just another pack of cigarettes.
-alysia-

Sunday, October 9, 2005
08:14 p.m.
i'm curious.

i want to step closer to that mirror.
fulfill that mirror's image of me-
of wat you see.

i can't believe that i'm so wonderful.
that my smile lights up the room.
makes the recipient feel they're the only one.
it's hard for me to believe that the way i move
captivates you.
entrances you.
it's difficult for me to see that the person i am,
is sitting on my sleeve.

i look closer.
step nearer to that mirror.

i don't see the wonderwoman
that you once fell in love with.
i see curious eyes stepping closer.
eyes with a long story.
too long for her age.
cuts on her arms.
a slightly broken heart.
a smile that makes the rest of her feel beautiful.

beautiful.
wat a strange word.

the people that i find the most beautiful
are often the ones in the most pain.
in pain, we're able to see clear.
clear, despite the blood running into our eyes.
-alysia-

Sunday, October 9, 2005
08:03 p.m.
look at me.
don't bow your eyes.
don't stare at your feet-
your feet aren't me.

look at me.
wat do you se?
do you really see me
or do you see the gurl who goes to church.
sits there by herself and listens. and reads. and listens.
and then gets up and leaves
only to return the next sunday?

or do you see the gurl who smokes.
drinks. does the occasional drug.
listens to music too loud and wears her mind on her shoulder?

or do you see the gurl who volunteers at the old folks home.
brings around her rabbit and cat.
who listens to all their stories.
smiles at them.
truly smiles at them?

or do you see the gurl who graduated early.
who went to college.
who's going to accomplish great things in life?

or do you see the gurl who's raising awareness.
who's trying to spread information about AIDS and HIV
who so desperately wants to work in africa?

or do you see the poet.
the gurl who has her head buried beneath her hair.
who is always randomly writing?

who do you see?
i can tell you right now you aren't seeing me.
you're looking thru glass.
this glass cage that surrounds me.

for me?
i'm a different color than you're painting with.
i am all those gurls you think that you can see.
but i'm not bound by any of them.
only this glass keeps me here.
keeps me grounded.
there is no room for love here.
so please don't beg like that.
my heart's not ready to pick up the pieces.
my heart likes it beneath this glass
where it can play with it's own blood.
where it's allowed to be disgusting,
and be disgusted with this world.

because it is.
-alysia-