jealous

The Heart

by Stephen Crane.

I'm not jealous because it's beautiful, I'm jealous because it's true.

It's not so hard to write poetry, it's just hard to write true poetry: it's hard to take a dream and let all the color and smoke drip out of it, leave it as just a bald and honest thing. 

The Heart is the extreme side of honesty, because the "creature" in The Heart, the beast, isn't really a creature. It's a man. Usually we lie about that sort of thing.

Usually we don't write it down.

Cheers,

Syl

complaint(s)

I'm tired at 6 AM.

Cheers,

Syl

 

Postscript:  I'm tired of ringing ears and walking in straight lines. I'm tired of dark circles and pale skin. I'm tired of reminding myself: Inhale, Exhale. I'm tired of being shut up and shut down. I'm tired of insomnia and anemia and claustrophobia and alexythymia and hypochondria. I'm tired of the Middle East, no, I'm tired of America. I'm tired of the same old stars. I'm tired of the same old dreams. I'm tired of being so young and so old and so in between everything that my mother wants me to stay in at night. I'm tired of all my friends and everyone at school and what's on TV. I'm tired of nodding my head like yes yes yes and not saying a single word. I'm tired of flying and lying to myself about it. I'm tired of always going in circles. I'm tired of winter and Mondays and fourth period that never ends. I'm tired of everyone else, but mostly I'm just tired of myself.

  

The Truth About Oblivion

The Truth About Oblivion

by Syl

And like the apocalypse, the devastation isn't apparent.


It's quiet in the air like a carbon monoxide leak, like someone is mouthing words with no voice.


It's like wet wallpaper, crawling down the walls of a falling-down house.

And so this is loneliness.

And so this is captivation. 

And so this is what you get for being a little reckless when you were 16.


This is the middle, this is charm. This is a planet with no air.


So here's to hoping.


Here's to getting off this star, and going somewhere lightyears and lightyears away.


It's a bone-breaking silence. It's a war.

It's the exact opposite of the feeling that someone is watching you. It's the feeling that no one is.


This is oblivion.


This is me and my own universe without a single other soul. Me and the moon.

Cheers,

Syl