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Gecko

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  • Birthday 01/20/1990

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  1. Yes! That's how I felt when writing it.
  2. Vortex Door flung open wide Thunder cracking sky above the concrete I glide A spring in step, horizons fall away one is all and all is one Flick fingers pointed in rhythm to the beat matter rearranging at my touch, yielding to power Demigod Like a spider I leap at vibration, spiraling from the web out to nexus of pure essence Life pumping blood Blood pumping life Like liquid poetry All this in one moment Right now Eternal Now
  3. I wrote this to someone who's been in the state hospital for a year and a half now (I was there for a year; she arrived a few months after I did). This is the first writing I've ever done that feels like a faithful portrayal of my heart. * * * For many years I've wallowed in a lonely misery When I finally buckled under the pressure of no life and no future, I resigned myself to utter defeat I believed that my mind was already molded and set There was no way out of my old habits and thought-patterns I'd suffer the rest of my life from precisely the same emotions, and worse, if I didn't kill myself Looking back, there is a significant change from who I was six months ago Physically and psychologically, perhaps even in the composition of my brain It's still hard to believe how far I've gone I was convinced I'd die alone in a mental hospital, of old age if not by suicide Jian-Marie has been the miracle in my life I declared that no one would ever love me for who I really was I'm glad she proved me wrong Every day is still a battle I have to face the same demons over and over - very real elements of my prison But as I told Jian-Marie, change is possible It takes a long time and hard work There are certainly times when things appear to fall apart and you're left at square one But this is partially an illusion You have the chance to go a little farther with each cycle of recovery - a little more experience to work with Each fall paradoxically gives you a clean slate You can use the slate to choose your own direction: Perhaps similar, or completely different from the one you had before You become stripped of the compulsion to uphold any false improvement This freedom allows a fresh look on life, free from any preconception of how it 'should' be Imagination can be an enormously enriching supplement in creating reality Allow yourself to dream To see things from a different perspective And apply what you wish to your own life See your life as a canvas: What will your next stroke be? Your life is irreplaceable Every experience you've had and will have is unique to your being Nothing can take that away from you Every moment, every day, you can mold your life, your experience Not always your moods and your thoughts But how you react once you have them This is self-transcendence: Seeing the richness of possibilities in this moment And reaching out; just try it: An unexpected twist in the ordinary trend of events You'll amaze yourself with what you find In other people, in yourself, beneath unturned rocks You will even find that you are more than one person; in fact, several people One of them is a girl yearning for love and understanding One of them a goddess of peace You don't have to be limited to the person you were yesterday Who you were today, who people think you are, or who you think you are Try thinking about the woman in you who will look back on her life sometime in the future Smiling at you Inexpressibly thankful that you survived long enough To give her a chance Every small step you take Is another neuron mended, another door opened It takes blind faith to complete the cycle Sometimes it's impossible to see how anything you do could possibly help But then, some of those decisions you make pay off at just the right time And suddenly you perceive the vast sea on which we float; That an untold number of those decisions did turn out for the better of tides, though you may never know exactly how If my writing intimidates you, and you wish you could write like I do, Just consider this: I would never be able to write anything without inspiration from people like you Everything that I've written Every beautiful sentence I've ever conceived Came from thinking about those very, very few special people in my life I am nothing without this wellspring of vitality It's what keeps me going, day in and day out This letter would never have been written If I hadn't met you If I hadn't somehow fallen in love with you So you see, you're constantly taking part in creation Even when you're absent minded; not intending on it I took those slips in your attention As opportunities for absorbing your presence, Yearning to take part in your beauty... Erin, I wrote this for you I wrote this because of you So many albums I've sent might as well have been sung for you I want to be for you what Mikaela is and has been for you Even if this comes to naught, Even if you decide you can't live in this world anymore I would respect your decision, forbearing all judgement I can't blame anyone for wanting out of this harsh existence Only be extremely sorry for their passing Hang on to memories, reverent of the extreme suffering they endured And try to keep holding on myself Making a difference wherever, whenever I can I want you to feel in the end that there were people who understood That you have a warm place in my heart As I write, I so badly want to see you again To hug you, take in your essence Gaze into your eyes If I had the chance I would lie next to you for days In your darkest hours Holding you close ~ Erik
  4. Human Through the heart's yearning I've felt a place where souls bathe each other in unconditional light Eternal warmth flows through caresses enfolding; they nurse the deepest, vilest scars only with certainty that you and I are the same Credit is no currency, only the privilege of giving and receiving And if that fails to comfort, the vision of possibility radiating as a sphere amidst a field of whispers, illuminates darkest doubt. Doctors, merchants, lords, an aviatrix gather in silent conclave with spirits of the past - a Joan of Arc, a Lincoln, a child, lovers, a nameless suicide, a murderer condemned... What would the dead tell us if we gave them voice? Ask again: who's to say what tomorrow holds? Adrift in a universe whose secrets we cannot plumb, we bumble like astronauts whose only contact with Home is a small and crackly radio Today I may fly, as in dreams we share to visit you, bouquet in hand Nevermind that cold stone - The Great Wall of China could not reach here, nor touch that inner freedom to paint sapphire skies upon the world's cold oceans. Through the mind's eye I've seen a place free from pinning daggers of circumstance, free from shackles of static failure... Each of us may pioneer her own piece of the Divide, employing broken bones in sanctuaries of sturdy truth ...Would you meet me there? Would you grant me bliss of your presence? Perhaps we may unearth that ancient art, and wielding its power unfold what it means to be Human
  5. I found a memo on my phone not two weeks ago Four minutes long, don't know how it got there Your voice and only yours responds to my absent words, Alive and giggling: 'Are you gonna mimic me the whole time?' Endearments of your cousin; a brief lesson in Spanish Some playful banter and Charles in the background I dare not erase this message, far too afraid; this may be all I have left of that Woman Who saw the Invisible Man... It all seems so far away from the booze, ecstasy cocaine and Mary-Jane you use now to stifle the pain.
  6. Thank you paint, much appreciated Haha Bella, I was about to respond by posting a link to my journal when I saw your response there. Even since I wrote that second part, four months ago, worlds of change have entered through my introspective and outer worlds... not all 'good', but I seem to be constantly evolving at an accelerating pace - More than I could say a year ago, when I was at a dead standstill.
  7. No one knows why she chooses to stay Day after day, as worlds collapse into black holes; Sitting in patient vigil, waiting for some sign of life from these Fetal Chickens... mangled beneath the mashing of cold stone. nerves on fire frozen shut crack my skull, bleed me dry. devil of loneliness, eviscerate the last good memory... what is this hand? It looks so familiar... could it be real? The soft wings so warm fold around into embrace only dreamed of 3] A beam of sunlight from one heart to another... She bears witness when no one else will watch. The light, when all other lights go out.
  8. I feel a deep rapport with this person when as we share our most painful memories... and the beautiful truth which unfolds from them. I wrote this as a result of the need to express that resolve.
  9. How do I describe the thirst parching my essence It drains ever so slowly Sneaking through backdoors in my head Nectar, You hold the cup tenderly to my lips It tastes of sweet melancholy Who ever knew life could feel so right and so wrong Warmth flows from this paradox you hold spoken in truth from the depths flowing as a salve onto wounds I've long concealed No need to hide in shame No need to look away You are my tonic, my nectar, my love
  10. A girl I met in the first psych ward I was sent to was anorexic. She barely talked to anyone, but those rare times when I could talk to her in private I could see what a caring person she was. We shared things that I never thought anyone else could understand. After sinking to the bottom and ending up with a tube up my nose, I found a note next to my bed. It quoted "This too shall pass" and sparked my will to stand up again. I haven't spoken with her since I left, because her social anxiety is so intense (sometimes she won't speak to family members). Later on I found out her family moved to Kuwait. I continue to send her email and hope someday she'll respond. It's really sad to think that someone so loving could be ashamed of themselves.
  11. That lion, It’ll eat my children. Kill it; get it out of my sight, That animal is the enemy. A car hit little Billie the next day. Why won’t they find someplace else to live? Get out of my house; get out of my sight, This belongs to me. Eagles don’t pay taxes. Superior, far more powerful, I inherit the right to slay this earth In the name of procreation. I’ll fill the world with carbon copies of myself Watch me Who cares? I heard it’s politically correct to pick your butt. Hand your friend a cigarette I win. Little Billie had a pet rat. I threw it out the window. Goodbye. A young girl dies alone on the street
  12. Totally missing the point. Very expressive poem, sarey. Each verse jumped out at me in recognition... I know how you feel.
  13. So I guess it's time to update on how things have been going since I left the psych ward last November. For those who don't know me, I've been depressed for the past 3 or so years struggling with Muscular Dystrophy (and the unjustified shame associated with it), social isolation, friction with society, and general confusion about love/spirituality/sexuality. I've been working hard to get into a private school with smaller class sizes and a more relaxed atmosphere so I can start developing the social relationships I've been unable to acquire in the past 10 or so years of life... I shadowed one school last thursday and loved it. I got along with the kids fine and felt comfortable being myself; the teachers were friendly and involved in what they're teaching. Hopefully I'll be going there in the next few weeks or so, as being alone doing independent study at my public school has been kind of dreadful... I'm slowly becoming more independent and taking up more responsibilities around the house; doing laundry, washing dishes, organizing my room, etc. I hope to be getting my learner's permit for driving soon. (finally) In the meanwhile I've been working hard with my psychologist to unwind the layers of shame and guilt left over from my youth. So that's all good and giddy, but I'm finding that familiar ache beginning to grow in my gut again... Since leaving the hospital, I've been trying to keep in touch with a very kind girl I met there; she's one of the only girls I ever felt comfortable around and felt I had a connection with. After we'd both been discharged, I tried to meet up with her, but she became very reclusive... the few times I got to talk with her the conversations lasted at most five minutes. I bought a silver pendant, looking forward to giving it to her when we met again, but that chance never came. So I sent it along with a custom-made cd and a friendly letter for Christmas. After about three months I asked in the least pressuring way I could if I should stop contacting her, but she said no, that I'm very important to her and not to take her unresponsiveness personally... She moved to Kuwait to live with her father last week. I'm disappointed that I never got the chance to see her again; I felt that if I could just be by her side I could help her come out of the dark, break through that layer of ice keeping me from her heart... It's heartbreaking how crippling anorexia can be... So yesterday I was feeling the worst I have in quite a while, extremely lonely. One of the only people I felt I had a true connection with is now on the other side of the world, and the other in Pennsylvania. (blueangel, who has been a great penpal) It feels like I have so much love to give, so frustrating how fate keeps pulling away my chances to express it to someone special. I feel such a great need to unite with female energy, show the 'goddess' my love and spend more time in the presense of living, breathing girls my own age, and be accepted among them. Recently I've been vaguely interested in Wicca but have no really good image of what it's about, and where I would find others interested in goddess worship. How do I cope with all this to prevent a relapse? And where do I start to begin fulfilling this desire, which, as far as I can see, bears no ill intention whatsoever?
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