Jaded. Fragmented. Fallen.
Always Rising.

Sunday, March 19, 2006
12:33 p.m.
Some Sort Of Strength
and out of no where
you appear to me.
you cling to my spirit
and i'm found walking away.
turning,
only to find you-
unexpected
but carefully planned.
there is no more muscles
for me to offer you.
my knees are bruised
and restless-
my soul more so.
i have bashed my mind upon
the steps of your castle
for days now
and with no return,
have i come to you
with prices
i've been willing to pay.
your light remains cold
and i'm only beginning to dance
in hopes of rain-

in hopes of some sort of release.
some sort of strength
to prod me to leave.
-alysia-

Sunday, March 19, 2006
12:31 p.m.
Tumbling Into You
the carpet feels close under her-
the towel falling from her body
as she crosses her legs
and picks up the phone-
gently glancing over the numbers
and hearing his answering machine-

his voice.

she remembers it in the night.
by the fire,
in the dark-
the moments when he reached out for her
so gently
and so consuming-
beyond her dreams,
living in something beyond
the snow globe world-
tumbling into you.
-alysia-

Sunday, March 19, 2006
12:29 p.m.
Sentenced
waking up alone,
my eyelids try to protest life-
not wanting to admit
the pain and love that goes with it.
you're not here.
i roll over and wonder if you ever were-
the answer is waiting for me
beyond the prison walls of this cell
but i don't want to believe in freedom and daylight
when my heart already knows
the answer
and has long ago, sentenced itself.
-alysia-

Sunday, March 19, 2006
12:22 p.m.
I
the day awakes.
breaking over what was never thought-
what had already began.
the stones thrown,
only return in the same pattern.
i'm blind to the timing,
the date,
the place.
but i remember their faces.
their anguish
and my childish fears
of falling apart rushing ahead
as i left behind
the one i loved.
the one i knew better that i ever realized.
through childish eyes,
their childish hopes were renewed-
were shttered,
and continue to be on that day-
this day.
breaking and unfolding like the tide,
returning every eyear to the same wake-
to the same sad eyes.

II
starving,
it's been days
and i still return to this same place.
the dust resting on my chin,
tempting my tongue.
memories and momentums
taht only begin to erase the tears of what had been.
days upon days reach my ears
and yet none of them touch my soul.
the revival every year
of the blood on my arm
is only for those who parade around
demonstrating
the days that means omething to them.
there are no packets of salt hidden up my sleeves,
no thirst for more poison
and they are more ready to give
than ever be given.

III
returning to this place
seems to be tradition to me.
for me.
the remembrance of the love you gave
and then hurled over the pond.
skipping it like a stone
that could enver be thrown again-
you hide that from me.
created me fragmented and covered in skin
that was never my own.
now, free of you
i should be dancing.
laughing and revealing myself to the sun.
but none has found me there
like you found me here.
here. and yet you are no where
but here.
this tiny shore
that could never have kept you home,
kept you here
and now it's all that contains you.
all that saves you.
that rock thrown,
only furthering the period of sun
in a memory that i should be walking-
not returning.
not ever returning to time
and it's misgiven places of hopes and dreams.
-alysia-

Sunday, March 19, 2006
12:19 p.m.
So Beautiful
you tell me that i'm beautiful.
like you're completely amazed-
i blush in embarrassment
but everyone loves to hear that
when their hair's a mess
and it's the beginning of day.
you say that i'm beautiful.
marvel in it
like it's a new kind of lighting
and the radiance is overwhelming-
and i smile
because what woman doesn't love to hear it
after a long day
covered in coffee
and unsatisfying conversation.
you tell me that i'm beautiful.
repeat it everyday
and i smile-
my eyes left silent.
flattered,
but unimpressed.
any stranger can know that about me.
can love that about me.
i thought i'd hear something different from you.
though you'd love that i'm covered in paint
and it's blue.
or maybe you'd love the way i wake you in the morning.
or the way i say your name
or the silly way my hair falls covering my face.
anyone can say i'm beautiful.
i thought you'd think deeper.
see more into the soul
that is left open to you-
fried in the light of beauty.
-alysia-

Sunday, March 19, 2006
12:15 p.m.
Pretty On The Outside
it started with blood upon my wrists-
you walking in and catching me in the act,
sexing myself was never as much fun
as teh anticipation of death.
that's the beginning.
the secluded nature of your seduction reeled me in,
creating a void
in my already disappearing personality.
but who cares when you're pretty on the outside?
fragments of the soul
don't need to be replaced anyway-
the cover-up shines in all the right places
when you know which gurl they desire you to be.
you never knew this,
fell blindly
into a pool of blood
and you've never swam before.
funny how you learnt this way.
this old,
younger in spirit
and role play,
you would always be.
me on top, forcing you with a delicate smile-
you fell in love with me that way.
fell in love with someone
who held a bottle tighter
than herself.
the alcohol always blurred the vision of blood
and reasons for me being there.
-alysia-

Sunday, March 19, 2006
12:11 p.m.
An Apology
through a quiet moment-
the light has grown dark.
moments that quickly turn- flames of passion
that bend and leave you burned- bleeding.
crawling upon the floor
wondering just what was said.
morality and the insecurity of the fragile way of blood-
the turning of tongues
and images
that won't go undone.
moments that fall and pass so quickly-
with walls built
and bridges unmended. hurt never lies in the eye
of the beloved- she moves too quickly
and won't be fooled by earthly pleasures- but this body
is very human
and has fallend and accumulated scars- but it is it that i'm offering you.
with the insecurities. the dirty past. the baggage that i long ago
threw out the window.
along with caring how my hair looks, and the conventional needs of society.
it is this skin that is longing
to retract words said. the air still lingering and holding my lungs captive-
there's nothing i can do but wait to breathe--
and thank you for standing up to me.
-alysia-

Sunday, March 19, 2006
12:06 p.m.
You'd Think
you'd think she'd learn- years turning that way-
rotting beneath her nails. you'd think
that maybe when a ray of true light finally found her
that she'd just jump into it- you'd think...but she thinks.
she dreams, plays, believes. but she thinks.
she remembers the nights of abuse. of choices
and when she was too young to have choice.
too young to even know- and with the years following after-
how she burnt choice to the ground
along with freedom and truth. how chains that bound her
made her drool. the thoughts of blood. drugs.
addictions that kept her there- that she allowed to keep her there-
because then?
then she didn't have to think. she didn't have to be.
could turn into this empty shell used for others pleasure. ashtray-
lamp to guide the feet of the fallen-
she was already there. broken before it all.
so you'd think she'd learn- smiling and all- years later-
bottles put away.
you'd think she'd begin to know what to say...
-alysia-