Broken Cookie Productions. Closed.

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Broken Cookie Productions. Closed.

Postby Sylandra » Sat Jul 24, 2004 11:46 pm

If I tell you I will be there forever
Do you think I mean the kind that lasts until the end of consciousness
Or do you think I mean the kind that lasts until the end of my attention span
Or do you consider it at all

The days of wine and rug burns are past
I am still here
Is this forever enough for you
You with your crooked and your new wave

I didn't recognize you at first, that I love you is amazing
I am still here
This is forever enough for me
Me with my jigsaw and my blues

If I said to you I love you
Would you think I mean I like your ass
Or would you think I mean I see your soul
Or would you simply respond I love you too

Us with our velvet couches
Us with our personal axes
Us with our love
And our forever
So what's it gonna be?
Are you real to me?
Or are you non-dairy creamer?
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Postby Sylandra » Sun Jul 25, 2004 11:03 am

Just one red curl
Brings it all home again.
What has taken a lifetime to recover
Only takes a minute to remind me
So many things hinging on
The one red curl
Where is it written
That I must hang onto that curl
As if letting go
Would drop me into some oblivion
I need oblivion right about now.
I need to let go.
So what's it gonna be?
Are you real to me?
Or are you non-dairy creamer?
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Postby Sylandra » Sun Jul 25, 2004 11:35 am

Something for Nothing (Words to an Ultimate Cruster)

You say
This big bad world don't owe you nothin' baby girl
Better let that evil go
Nothing from nothing leaves nothing
That nothing is really somethin' even so
I watch you sleep all silent stars
And midnight schemes
I wonder if the somethin
Is found there in your dreams
This big bad world may not owe me
But it took more than I gave
What's left is not for offer
The nothing left is what I save

You say
In the end this world is made from the love
we leave behind
Something from nothing means something
If there's something left inside
I keep my love inside my mind
My heart is far too broken
I have left alot of love behind
Broken hearts let far more out
Than they took in to begin with
Such precious losses
So I lock it all away inside my head
I'll will away the key when I am dead


You say
There's hands on the clock in the square
They mark the time when
The good lord feeds the hungry
Something from nothing means nothing
If the hands on the clock
Mark only regrets
Or the good lord forgets
If it is a gift and you give it away
The pleasure of it remains
The gift of the giving it's called
Being left with nothing means you had something
Nothing from something is something after all.
So what's it gonna be?
Are you real to me?
Or are you non-dairy creamer?
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Postby Sylandra » Sun Jul 25, 2004 1:37 pm

For Mikey and his newest Sammy (<---click)

Guitar

Mike Farrell
There are musicians, and then there are passionate musicians. Mike Farrell lives, breathes and eats music: It is in his soul. One minute into any performance, and the audience knows that fact. A veteran of many local bands, Farrell is now a regular member of Th’ Losin Streaks, a lo-fi garage-rock outfit that regularly performs at Old Ironsides. --C.K.


I have known hundreds, possibly thousands of people who know Mike Farrell. From the "I know him well" to the "I know of him" not one has ever had a bad thing to say. Not one person.
To me, that is testament to something grander than talent. That is testament to something grander than awards.

Fetish Red

You are the best and this is the least
I love your penchant for the color red
I love your old and gentle soul
They applaud your Townsend leaps
I applaud your longevity
For I know at what cost you have remained this long
You gave soul to my poetry
In the 3ams, between the pinpricks and the patronization
I learned more from you than anyone
Not all of it was music
None of it was sex
All of it was sultry
It all came from a gorgeous soul
The part of you I love
Between the first class shatters
While they bathed in benzedrine
You swam in your talent
You invited people to come on in
The water was oh so fine
And it was
One day they will truly mark the best
It will yet be miles below you
They applaud your recovery
I applaud your addiction
For I know what your true addiction is
Dark eyed burn holes in a blanket
Brow knit wrenching concentration
Skinny legs balancing a huge heart
Blurred fingers making people want to get up
Lip-biting intensity
Pouring out the beauty
Taking in the pain
If it were in me to do so
I would have bathed in the light
Of your supernova talent
Every day that you have shone
Good God how you shine

You are the best
This is the least
They applaud your fingers
They applaud your notes
They applaud your songs
I applaud your skinny legs.
I applaud your huge heart.
I love your Fetish Red.

Congratulations Michael. You blow them all away.
So what's it gonna be?
Are you real to me?
Or are you non-dairy creamer?
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Postby Sylandra » Tue Jul 27, 2004 7:52 am

The past.

It is for some, what they went through to have a future gone well,
and for some, it is the glory days they look back on and wonder
where they went right, or even wrong.

It is probably many combinations of all of the above for everyone.

For me, the past was something I had too much fucking fun going
through, often paying a very heavy price, but still I have always
managed to find that I had a seriously good time. I could take the
worst of it and find some piece of the best to hang onto.

So I guess it is no surprise that I am blindsided at times when
this past in which I had such a good time, rears it’s ugly head to
smack me down now that I have come out of it alive and chosen a
different path.

They say we all have some amount of pre-ordained future given
whatever our specific set of learning and living environments are.
That whole “A child learns what it lives” thing.

But, I think there is a certain amount of genetics and a large
amount of randomness as well. If someone had told me at 15 that
one day I would be the person I am now, I don’t guess I would
have found that so surprising. However if they had elaborated on
how I got to this point, or how long it took me to get to this
point, or how roughshod and rode-hard I would be, I would have
vehemently denied the possibilities-turned-realities at every
trick and turn of the tale.

I certainly cannot pinpoint any one thing in my living environment
as a child that would have predicted what goes on in me now.

Since I found my mother, I have seen alot of me in her. Not having
grown up with her around means it must be genetic somehow.

I know of alot of places in time that cut a swatch out of me here
and added padding to me there, in relative random fashion.

If anything about who I am now was pre-ordained, I have to say
that whoever made the ordinations needs some help with
planning. Or has a very sick sense of humor.

Lately I have found a certain weariness to be prevalent in
everything I do. Every little task seems so very pointless, if in the
end, after all I have done, been through, and been subjected to, it
all still adds up to who I am now.

I do not know if this is some mean condition of being early-
menopausal, making me consider mid-life much more emotionally
than I would have if I were not in menopause now, at my age, but
whatever it is, I am just worn out.

Ten years ago I longed for some purpose. I thought that purpose
would be found in gaining an education, seeking employment of
some type doing something I am good at, and gaining better
quality possessions and circumstances as I moved forward.

I did not know that ten years ago I was actually happy living in a
small place with two kids and a man I love, cozy if crowded, with a
firm grasp of what I was about and what I wanted. Happier than I
am now in three times the house, with the same kids and
husband, and incapable of keeping up with it all.

Simple life was good enough that I wanted more life and didn’t
realize I would add complexity I do not feel able to meet head on.

I have no idea where to go from here. I only know this is not
where I want to stay.

Anyway, about my past, it seems that the further I step away from
it, the more often it steps in to remind me it is still there. I have
sacrificed things all along the way, willingly and no, and for every
inch I seem to pay an infinite price.

It is truly the gift that keeps on giving.

I have sacrificed people, freedoms, physical and mental abilities,
conscience, potential, dignity and sanity to be who I am now. So
why is it that I only like me when I am not being this person as I
should?

How is it that after all the school and work and fighting the good
fight, I appreciate my life so much more when I am broke, failing,
and flailing to keep up?

I love my time when it feels stolen?

I only like it if it is wrong?

I have all these obligations and considerations, yet frittering the
day away on useless, pointless ventures feels the very best. The
digital dragons I have slain felt like such real accomplishments.
The "real-life" dragons I have slain left me a little charred
and so much more the worse for wear.

Every single fucking dragon!

I suppose that is the way of dragons. Who knew?

When I get back in line and tote the barge, and actually enjoy it, I
get smacked with a past I cannot avoid and am always held
accountable for, even though it is a daily struggle not to be that
person who made that past.

Do I require the reminder so badly? Does it have to hit me so hard
out of nowhere just when I was thinking I was back on track? And
on the right road again? What is it about me that makes me create
a life so good at painting my hopes on promises and quelling the
possibility of those promises ever coming to fruition with the same
brushstroke i painted the hopes with?

These are the ramblings of a 42-year old woman who probably
should have gotten psychiatric help many, many years ago, I am
sure, and definetly should be seeking it out now. Yet this feels just
cathartic enough that perhaps I will continue on in this bent.

Baring a soul, not worth seeing naked, in order to purge some guilt
and self-loathing. Baring just enough to get through the next day,
without finding a means to an end for it all.

I used to really like "it all".

I guess maybe I had the jam for it then. I most certainly do not
have the jam for it now.

But I am trying.

That is something, right?
So what's it gonna be?
Are you real to me?
Or are you non-dairy creamer?
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Postby Lady Maven » Tue Jul 27, 2004 11:44 am

Well, woman, it aint gonna be easy for awhile, that's it, but fuck, when did you or I ever get to take it easy? I am here. We go get coffee tonight, we figure it out. I will have my cell phone with me, slo no more Kevin answering it. Aint nothing so bad ever happen yet that we couldn't figure out over coffee.
Life's journey is not to arrive at the grave safely in a well preserved body, but to skid in sideways totally worn out screaming "HOLY SHIT ..... what a ride"!!
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Postby Okami Kajii » Tue Aug 03, 2004 1:04 am

A week ago tomorrow
I tried to kill myself
I do so suck at that
apparently

Today I return to find that not much has changed

I have loved you since time unknown
Also unknown is why
but we have millenia to figure that out
coherently

And while we are busy figuring things out
please tell me how to set the timer on the VCR
Appareantly I suck at that
as well
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Postby Sylandra » Wed Aug 04, 2004 12:22 pm

I wear my heart on the sleeve
Of this old sweater

I keep my loves and my sorrows
In it's many pockets.

Wherever I reach there is joy and anger
I have washed it and dried it

Still it bears the stains of every moment
From a life with you

I cannot remove you from the fabric
You pesky ground-in lover

So persistent in your staying
So insistant you be removed

So I wear this old sweater
Not knowing nor caring the season

You make me hot in the summer
And sometimes cold in my own skin

When others look upon me in it
They need not question why I wear it

It will always be my favorite
With all it's little pockets
So what's it gonna be?
Are you real to me?
Or are you non-dairy creamer?
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Postby Sylandra » Wed Aug 04, 2004 4:17 pm

Modern Love by George Meredith (Poem #8 of a 50 poem sonnet))

Yet it was plain she struggled, and that salt
Of righteous feeling made her pitiful.
Poor twisting worm, so queenly beautiful!
Where came the cleft between us? whose the fault?
My tears are on thee, that have rarely dropped
As balm for any bitter wound of mine:
My breast will open for thee at a sign!
But, no: we are two reed-pipes, coarsely stopped:
The God once filled them with his mellow breath;
And they were music till he flung them down,
Used! used! Hear now the discord-loving clown
Puff his gross spirit in them, worse than death!
I do not know myself without thee more:
In this unholy battle I grow base:
If the same soul be under the same face,
Speak, and a taste of that old time restore!
So what's it gonna be?
Are you real to me?
Or are you non-dairy creamer?
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Postby Sylandra » Wed Aug 04, 2004 6:20 pm

Throughout the course of my life
A million kindnesses versus each cruelty
Yet the cruelties are what remain
Long after the kindness
Has worn thin

This either speaks volumes
For my adeptness at self-flagellation
Or for the inability
of kindness to bear rememberance
to begin with
So what's it gonna be?
Are you real to me?
Or are you non-dairy creamer?
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Postby Sylandra » Fri Aug 06, 2004 4:33 pm

How do you go on about a life worth living when the person you have been living it with tells you it was meaningless? I don't know. As soon as I do, I promise I will get back to you.

So far I have figured that if it was worth it to me, that should be all that matters. If I had lived it only for me, I might be more inclined to feel that way.
So what's it gonna be?
Are you real to me?
Or are you non-dairy creamer?
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Postby Sylandra » Sat Aug 07, 2004 10:52 pm

_edited_
So what's it gonna be?
Are you real to me?
Or are you non-dairy creamer?
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Postby Sylandra » Sun Aug 08, 2004 8:27 pm

Something dawned on me today.

I swear it was an actual epiphany. Really.

No matter what, I will be OK.

I talked to a friend today. She said she has done stepwork for drug recovery and the hardest thing for her to do was to outline what she did that caused others pain.

I quit drugs many, many years ago, but I have an addiction none the less. I am addicted to this person I have been with for far too long. I mean, if you cannot put it down and walk away, when you know it is unhealthy to continue, is that not an addiction?

My outline of the things I had done to cause others pain was this:

I had used my ability to make someone feel sorry for me, to keep him with me long after the light went out. Even though I knew that honsetly, neither of us was happy...only complacent. Both of us had settled and I had trapped someone with my femme fatale act.

I had used words like "responsibility" and "promise" to hang onto a love I find I have not felt for a long time, other than to be in love with being in love.

I had lied to myself and to others for a long ass time as to whose fault my own bullshit is.

I had attempted to create security out of those same lies.

I had boasted and bellowed of my love when really, I did not even love myself.

For the want of a hug and a kind word, with a little skin on skin contact as a sideline, I traded my dignity away, and never let him forget it once I had. Like it was ALL his fault. I made someone stay with me out of guilt and shame.

When my friend told me she didn't feel better until she defined what HER responsibility in all of her actions was, and that if she didn't she would never get over them, I decided to give it a try. You see when you blame others, you then have to wait for them to correct what they are being blamed for in order to find healing. I have been blaming alot of people for a very long time.

That made so much fucking sense to me that I came home and actually nodded off to sleep. I actually ate rice for dinner and didn't puke it back up. I sat in a room with Scott and the things he said or said he hadn't been saying, ceased to cause me pain. Or rather I ceased to be pained at hearing it. Only amazed that I had not heard it so much sooner.

She told me her second hardest part was to put faith in a higher power. So much faith as to admit she was powerless over what others did and powerless over her addiction. She did not have a higher power. She had always thought of herself as her higher power. But herself had let her down. Herself had become addicted to drugs. Herself had shown weakness. I could relate to that. Myself had done those things too, only I think my true addiction is fear and I am loathe to part with it.

Her sponsor told her that if she did not believe in anything, then make something she COULD believe in, and believe in that. She needed to rest her problems somewhere in order to sort them out more efficiently and realistically. She needed to forgive herself and she needed to know her higher power would too. This was something else I could totally get behind. I need to let me know I am not a shitbag for carrying this weight for so long when I did not have to. I need to be forgiven. Not only by myself but by the universe by and large.

My higher power is a doorknob. Hey, it was the first thing I laid eyes on when I felt the deep-seated need to pray. What can I say.

My doorknob has a network of followers consisting of me. Given how many "me's" there are, that can seem like a lot.

I prayed to a doorknob today. I asked that Scott be shown mercy for being weak, and that he be shown love for what it really is. I asked that my son be spared as much pain as possible and be given as much hope as could possibly exist. I asked that I be allowed to forgive myself. That I finally admit I am not impervious. I am not made of rock, hard and cold. I asked that I be allowed to let Scott go, like I knew we had both wanted for a really long time. Or that we be shown how to make true comitment to one another in a way that let's us grow along with our lives.

I feel alot better. I mean, like for more than a minute. I am very tired and hungry. Both of those are good signs. I have not been either for several weeks now.

I figure either the medications I am taking are causing me to go over the top, or I am finding ways to give me what I need without compromising my disbelief in belief systems.

Like that last line in Dogma where Rufus the Apostle asks "OK, now do you believe?" and she says "No, but I have a pretty good idea."

I feel better.
So what's it gonna be?
Are you real to me?
Or are you non-dairy creamer?
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Postby Sylandra » Wed Aug 11, 2004 7:04 am

I have played games of the armor-wearing variety for a very long time and yet I feel stripped naked. Laid bare for all that comes my way. Good or bad.

Sounds very melodramatic. I don't feel melodramatic. Just tired. And really, really cold. Exhausted in fact. I sleep little, I eat little, and I hurt alot.

He sits in his room and he does what he does (who knows) and I feel like a ghost in my own home. I feel like no matter what I do I can never get through. Never get past. No relief.

I leave my house and I find the most amazing people, but I am afraid to stay gone too long. Like something is here that I am missing but I cannot say what it is and I cannot find it in order to no longer miss it.

It is 5:00 am and I am typing, hoping whatever it is will come to mind and I can get it, deal with it, and move on. I want to move on so badly. I do not want to be nervous all the time. I do not want to wait for the next spear of inconsideration from him. But I am like a moth, hypnotized. Drawn to the white-hot light bulb, even though I get burned each time I bump against it. I cannot stop flying at it. There just has to be a different outcome than this burning sensation.

Someone turn off the fucking light. Please.

I do not want to listen to the dull thuds of his passion in another room at the oddest hours but I cannot stay asleep to miss them. I do not want to hear me being replaced by choices he made, selfishly, and never let me swing the axe of decision in my favor. In fact, all I want is to curl up in my bed with his arms around me.

Then I think about that, and I cannot remember the last time he did that anyway. Comes around full circle when I recall that he didn't do that when he loved me, that it didn't hurt when he loved me, that is killing me for the want of now. Now that he doesn't love me.

I keep wondering when I will get the piece of him that feels nothing. The piece of him that can hurt and lie and cheat and steal away my piece of mind, feeling no remorse. Of all the pieces of him I have ever had, I need that one the most. Now.

Then again, when was the last time he honestly gave me something I needed? Maybe never. But the lies felt alot better than this ugly truth. In the lies I was loved.

In the lies I could trust, and accept, and compromise my way to old age. I did not know it was a lie. In this new truth he feels relieved. He is happy. He is secure. He feels unburdened. And the rest of us get to carry the weight he finally got to drop. I suppose to someone carrying around all that dishonesty and having to play at looking so happy, it might have looked as if I was strong and could carry this load. Looks are deceiving. He looked like he loved me. I looked like I loved him.

But to someone who told himself I was living a lie as well, it would seem we should both be relieved by his moment of truth. I was happy. Even mucking about in my own shit, I was happy. It does not take much to make me happy. It took an earth-shattering month to make me this ghost in my own house. This moth with all her sensory "feelings" fried by the lightbulb.

Maybe I will replace him with a bug zapper. Then if this ever happens again I can just cook all the way on up.
So what's it gonna be?
Are you real to me?
Or are you non-dairy creamer?
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Postby Sylandra » Mon Aug 16, 2004 10:12 am

We talk, and it is like doing a shodus with no music. Four steps forward, two steps back. Three steps forward, turn and kick, turn and dance. Two steps forward, four steps back. Four steps forward and hop over the real problem. Shuffle, two, three, four, bang foreheads together, have sex and begin again.

Rinse, and repeat.

I would say that the wind is blowing toward reconciliation with lots of counseling...but the wind has a way of changing directions on me several times a day while it decides which way it wants to blow.

So I pray to my doorknob, work on my forgiveness factor, type alot of vent-ish stuff to Dyvimmy and Belle, have coffee as often as I can with Maven, and ignore as much of the crappola as I can.

I know I am one annoying bitch to live with, but I am also alot of fun. I am trying very hard not to hold my breath, for fear of turning blue, while waiting for the fun. It is possible to catch it in fits and starts. Let's hope my fits do not become maniacal and cause me to starts by hucking his computer right on thru the goddamn window.

*grin*
So what's it gonna be?
Are you real to me?
Or are you non-dairy creamer?
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Postby Sylandra » Wed Aug 18, 2004 1:22 am

Excuse me but can I be you for awhile. My dog won't bite if you sit real still. I got the Anti-Christ in the kitchen yelling at me again...well, actually I chased him off the couch with my typing and now he is asleep in the bed I bought for us that only I usually sleep in.

So anyways, tonight, drunk on four glasses of wine and having taken two Soma's, I got a friend from New York to call me on my cell. He was really sweet. No, really. And we talked about all manner of things. He asked me if I have "urges".

Urges.

Yes. I have urges, I have the almost uncontrollable urge to run into my bedroom and flatten Scott's patrician nose with a cast iron skillet. How's THAT for an urge.

I have the urge to toss a bunch of non-descript stuff into a backpack and take my "stinky drunken ass on out of here", never looking back (by stinky I mean attitude for I showered jsut hours ago). Except there would be two kids who would need me once I was gone. Two kids who would actually hurt that I left.

So anyways, psycho as I am, I told the guy that I have urges but they no longer manifest themselves by viewing a picture of a penis. Or even of a man with the promise of one. You see, I have seen too many to believe that one standing up at attention tells the truth.

Penises, for all that they are lovely appendages, well, they lie. They promise forever, but they give new definition to the meaning of forever. When they are soft and sated, they speak of a forever constituting some indelible amount of time, contigent upon their whims and generally lasting longer than they do...by some. Hard? They mean til your feet hit the floor. I find, skinnier and feeling better than I have ever felt about me, I am no longer wooed by the hard promise. I need longevity, and I don't mean from the penis itself cuz well, we all know what longevity means to a hard penis. I mean the longevity that comes fomr someone who says the words "It will all work out, just give it time".

Is it time yet? Waiting is the hardest thing. I think I might actually fly apart with the waiting.
So what's it gonna be?
Are you real to me?
Or are you non-dairy creamer?
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Postby Sylandra » Thu Aug 19, 2004 5:26 pm

All my life I have been told by people that they felt they could tell me anything. There have been times when I wish this wasn't true cuz I don't want to know some things. I just don't. But I will listen. Always. I will try to playfully discuss almost any topic, no matter how uncomfortable it feels and I will listen to what almost anyone ahs to say. No matter what I think of them. No matter how many times they were at me in the past with the yakkity-smakkity.

So how did I become the person you hide things from?
So what's it gonna be?
Are you real to me?
Or are you non-dairy creamer?
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Postby Sylandra » Sun Aug 22, 2004 9:10 pm

You open the floodgate
And you flow out
Warm and wondering
Where you have been all this time
So what's it gonna be?
Are you real to me?
Or are you non-dairy creamer?
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Postby Sylandra » Mon Aug 23, 2004 1:40 pm

Drinking whiskey
Straight from the bottle
No brakes
Foot on the throttle
Love you
Gonna stop trying
Tired of crying
Even tried dying

You sold me cheap
You gave it all to her
You shit
And now you think
I asked for this
Oh yeah
I asked for this
I asked for this

She dropped you
Your lies burned her
So fake
Got what you earned
Love her
But you can't stop lying
Now you are sighing
Thinking you're dying

You sold me cheap
You gave it all to her
You shit
And now you think
I asked for this
Oh yeah
I asked for this
I asked for this

Snapshots
You take em don't you
So hot
Oh Baby they tell you
So what
They know you're lying
Play you for trying
I'm dying laughing

That thing
Inside your Levi's
It's nice
But it ain't all that yeah
To me
I see you buying
Just what you paying
Is all that I'm asking

You sold me cheap
You gave it all to her
You shit
And now you think
I asked for this
Oh yeah
I asked for this
I asked for this

Did I ask for this?
I asked for this!
So what's it gonna be?
Are you real to me?
Or are you non-dairy creamer?
User avatar
Sylandra
Pickpocket
 
Posts: 1808
Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
Location: Gen's Extraneous Third Nipple, OK

Postby Sylandra » Thu Sep 02, 2004 2:49 pm

What a deal
You offered me you, at such price
Only not you
But the option
To be graced by your mere presence
For the mere pittance
Of my self-respect
And my acquiesence to your demands

Such as it is
A pittance of self-respect, is better
Than your offer
And the option
To increase it by declining acquiesence
For the mere pittance
Of not being graced
Is more attractive than you can know
So what's it gonna be?
Are you real to me?
Or are you non-dairy creamer?
User avatar
Sylandra
Pickpocket
 
Posts: 1808
Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
Location: Gen's Extraneous Third Nipple, OK

Postby Sylandra » Sun Sep 05, 2004 9:41 am

Wrote a little song about it, goes like this:

I dig for the one place
Where I last enjoyed
I find a chewed up shoe
Go buy the dog a bone
Search my soul for meaning
Could swing a cat in here
My steps echo loudly
There ain't nobody home

I look to Gods for answers
All I see are questions
What are Gods to someone
Who's all alone
There is a sea of faces
Screaming into pillows
I'm not that lonely
Screaming on my own

I hear your voice and turn
I see my reflection
Maybe I turned too fast
Faced the wrong direction
Speak to me again
I need to find protection
I need to hear you tell me
I need to hear you tell me
You need to tell me now
Speak to me again

How some can turn it on
Then off as quickly
Run off from the silence
I am soaking in
One great mystery
One I never question
Is the variations
Of a blessing and a sin

In this life we live
We seek understanding
We want to know the thing
We think will give us peace
We are all searching for
Some hidden meaning
What we get instead
Are little bits of relief

I hear your voice and turn
I see my own reflection
Maybe I turned too fast
Faced the wrong direction
So speak to me again
I need to find protection
I need to hear you tell me
I need to hear you tell me
You need to tell me now
Speak to me again

I need to hear you tell me
I need to hear you tell me
You need to tell me now
Speak to me again

Speak to me again...
So what's it gonna be?
Are you real to me?
Or are you non-dairy creamer?
User avatar
Sylandra
Pickpocket
 
Posts: 1808
Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
Location: Gen's Extraneous Third Nipple, OK

Postby Sylandra » Wed Sep 15, 2004 10:52 am

I call one, he says he is sorry for how he treated me
Says he didn't know what he had.
Another calls, he tells me the same
I call a friend and an ex is there.
He tells me he has wished a million times
That he had not let me go.
All I can say is "thank you"
What I mean is "Fuck you"

Like I have forgotten how they treated me.
Like I don't remember how bad it was.
Like I need them to apologize.
Like I don't think each time
"If you hadn't, I wouldn't be in this mess today."
Like I don't think each time
"A mess with you would have been just as ugly"
So what's it gonna be?
Are you real to me?
Or are you non-dairy creamer?
User avatar
Sylandra
Pickpocket
 
Posts: 1808
Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
Location: Gen's Extraneous Third Nipple, OK

Postby Sylandra » Thu Sep 23, 2004 4:01 pm

Just me and the boys.
The only anger here so far
Was when they pulled the PS2 off the dresser.
The only pain here so far
Has been from lifting and hauling my belongings.
The only longing here so far
Has been for coffee with friends across town.

Just the three of us.
When we wake up here
We smile and have breakfast and feel good.
When we get home here so far
We have dinner and watch movies and talk
When we go to bed here so far
We hug each other and leave the bathroom light on.

This all happened to me so fast.
Two months ago I was sure of my life
Two months ago I was loved and cared for
Two months ago I had an entirely different set of values.
Two months ago my son did not cry missing his Dad.
Today, all these things are new
but still true
For us, by us.
So what's it gonna be?
Are you real to me?
Or are you non-dairy creamer?
User avatar
Sylandra
Pickpocket
 
Posts: 1808
Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
Location: Gen's Extraneous Third Nipple, OK

Postby Sylandra » Wed Sep 29, 2004 4:01 pm

I Am Invincible
I am stronger than you know
I am better than I give myself credit for being
I am living a voluptuous life

Today I repaired my internet connection myself
Today I set up my kitchen just the way i want it
Today I kissed a man with beautiful lips
Today I hugged my sons a bunch
Today I cut my hair
Today I installed programs on my own
Today I learned how to deal with the Cable Company
Today I took a friend to lunch
Today I found a replacement pot for my espresso maker
Today I didn't need anyone to help me
Today I loved everyone for not needing them

I Am Invincible
I am stronger than you know
I am better than I give myself credit for being
I am living a voluptuous life
So what's it gonna be?
Are you real to me?
Or are you non-dairy creamer?
User avatar
Sylandra
Pickpocket
 
Posts: 1808
Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
Location: Gen's Extraneous Third Nipple, OK

Postby Sylandra » Fri Oct 08, 2004 12:21 am

I get tripped up in perfection
And when good enough isn't
I just give up
I need good enough

I get tripped up in extremes
And when it isn't hot or cold
I just seize up
Warm isn't good enough

I get tripped up in totality
And when there's only some
I just freeze up
Some is not good enough

We were mediocrity
I can walk no middle road
Unless I walk alone
And even so
We were something
I cannot settle for less than the whole
And when I walk alone
I have it all.
I have perfection.
So what's it gonna be?
Are you real to me?
Or are you non-dairy creamer?
User avatar
Sylandra
Pickpocket
 
Posts: 1808
Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
Location: Gen's Extraneous Third Nipple, OK

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