Posts from the ‘My Room’ Category

Beyond lace

Once I let my thoughts rome free.

I poured them from my soul into your ears.

And you took them with you when you left.

Christmas

Salty fingers
Trace their sorrow down my cheek.
I lie alone,
Awake and relentless.

Into My Hands

If I could write down all the names, I’d fold them away into silent birds.
I’d set them flying into the far winds, and make a wish on all of humanity.

The Lovely Turning

To that gem, that sapphire of the seasons.
To the softening of the summer heat in to the cool crisp of autumn.
To that lovely turning from late-night campfires and cricket bells to evening blankets and crunchy leaves.
To the coming of festival and lightly spiced air.

Happy September.

5 A.M.

Hello blog, it’s me, Lyrikh.
I’m still trying to decide which is the more preferable side of five in the morning to be on. Waking up to it of course, you say. But is it?
Waking up at five in the morning and knowing you have to, I’m sure is a pain. It means you have to go to bed that much earlier, (unless you think you’re superhuman), thus cutting into your social or relaxing at home time. People aren’t really awake at five in the morning, even if we were meant to be once upon a time. I do appreciate all the bakers and farmers and truck and bus drivers who make that sacrifice though.
I however usually find myself on the other side of five A.M. It would be one thing if I had a night job that kept me up until five, and all I need do on my return home was sleep, but I have no such job. I am just awake, without any rhyme or reason for it. If that sounds exciting to you, you should try it for a week and get back to me.
And of course, it’s not as if I just fall asleep afterward either. If I haven’t slept at all,, that usually is the point at which I am beyond frustrated. I think I should find productive things to do, but that would only encourage the behavior. And it’s at about that point when the rest of the house starts to wake up and I am finally sleepy. But of course since people know I don’t sleep, they choose this time to need my attention.
I really need to stop telling people that I don’t sleep.

Jar

My hand is burning from finally opening the pickle jar, half my bed clothes are going for their fourth dryer spin and I haven’t slept in almost three days.
Well truthfully, I just haven’t been sleeping at night. I get some sleep when my alarm goes off for me to wake up, but still. Actually I rather like the new year so far.

Yesterday was January 8, (at least it was where I am). I’m kind of obsessed with it. It isn’t my birthday or anything significant to me as far as I know, I just really like the look of it in my mind. I’ve always liked January. I have–as you’ll probably remember if you’ve been here before–a strange love for winter, and January is like fresh clean snow. Eight is usually a bright color, and tends to stand out wherever it lands. It does look better in the blue months though.
We’ve had real snow here, but I probably should be careful what I say about that. It’s been cold here too; just like real winter.

Hello, winter, It’s been a while.

Between Fingers

Soft, papery fluttering life,
Now a red smear between flesh.
Once I killed a mosquito.
He got too close.