mmm hmm. okay.

when i close my eyes, i see the same image 95% of the time.
i will document it here >> in the form of a picture.....

okay, okay, so i say i will. but that is, honestly, yet to be determined.
will photoshop give you any better a visualization than my own semi-descriptive rambling?
if yes, then i will make a visual...and you can tell me if you've ever seen the same pattern underneath your eyelids.
i bet you have.
and if you have not, speak up!
then i will map out for you the image that plagues my lucid vision.

....................
i see.
i see........
i see a great big black circle. and within it another circle, but this one is white.
this one is white and within its gigantic circumference is a smaller black circle.
though its not much of a circle at all, for it has rough edges.
fragmented spaces of this black circle hold peaks of high and low points.
they are like a graph of the stock market.
or your heart beat.
or like the peaks of a lie detector test when you truthfully answer and then lie again, and then truthfully answer... and so on and so forth...
but in a circular shape.
round and round they go, these edges- all connecting...
bordering this black atmosphere that is surrounded by light.

then within this black space there is yet another circle.
a circle more circular than the last.
its edges not yet perfectly smooth, but distinguishable.
distinguishable by not only its almost defectless border, but by its bright white, translucent, tint.

you are now seeing the pattern?
the shape-shifting turns from smooth white semi-circular shapes to dark, rough, blackened semi-circular space?
----- and so it goes.

the final point- which i've decided it best not to fixate upon and time to open my eyes- bares the mark of alice's rabbit hole.
a mark from which no man or woman has ever stared at, and safely returned.
a mark whose recognition holds no hope.
no saving chance to be sane, happy, or human.

this time last year.

3470_0463, originally uploaded by Yelp.com.

while looking for information about THIS year's yelp holiday party, what do I happen to come across..........

is there anything greater?

en mi coche

i fly down the fucking freeway until i see electronic signs suggesting i:
"save fuel. save lives. slow down."
i contemplate my pace... is it really that fast?
yes.
i flirt with the idea of slowing down... should i step on the brakes?
no.
although i continue on with my "dangerous" speed, i realize the only thing that got me to consider lowering my mph was not all the lives i might save...but the price of gas.
pretty fucked up.
those signs should read: "save fuel. save INNOCENT IRAQI lives. slow down."
i think its time to buy a hybrid.

further and further

he was an abstraction. a disappointing distraction.
i've gotten further from him than he can ever get from me.

"you simply occupied an obscure corner of my heart.
and whenever i recall my love for you,
it is tainted with deep sorrow and pitch-black memories."
-from a book whose name escapes me. but i think i liked it.

how it ends...

four years flew through my hair as it whipped out my window. i was a passenger here. but i was steering you there. nothing i have seen was less than deserved. nothing i have felt is more than what you're worth. and in two days time i will awake under a new sun. a sun never seen before and never to be seen again. we are in this together, and i have never felt less alone. the emptiness was home but i am prepared to make you an offer on it. take it for free, if that's all you're willing to give me. i have missed out on so much. you haven't forgotten enough. i am not a discovery. i am a c r e a t i o n.

Pallid Piano

Her mind kept time like a metronome.
Regulating the timid tempo of life, cautiously
She perched on sleek and silent keys
Fingers, fixated and frail,
Primed to set her lily white world ablaze.

Her chestnut hair whispered
At the nape of her neck.
Exposed by the deep simplistic V of a snowy silk dress,
Her spine, properly postured and pained,
Protruded from her portrait.

I was enslaved by the painting.
Compelled to follow its frame
Flecked in gold when struck by light,
I could not see her face, still cannot see her face.
I assumed hers is that of my mother’s.

My mischievous mind could not keep time.
Disarranging the timid tempo of life, ungracefully
I perched on sleek and silent keys
Fingers, scattered and strong,
Primed to set my lily white world ablaze,
And under my mother’s gaze I was told to begin.