This blog has now been moved to

http://ambeyatashi.livejournal.com/

Goodnights

I just said goodnight to Nanny;
her warmth will melt all the monsters around me.
And my brother's strength will illuminate
all throughout this apartment.

My best friend is just down the hall,
and his intentions will float through the air, so calm;
and when I pull my covers over me, lit by the night-light and the lamps outside,
I somehow feel like I'm not alone.

This Obligatory Cut-Away...

Everything is blank.
My vision is clear translucence.
Out of focus; like seeing from a far, far way away.

In a house.
I walk downstairs. The brownish,
slightly tinged red
of the wood floor.
Yellow walls.
A carpet too.

Images that have no meaning.
People walking around, childrens' voices.
Happily together?
Playing.
Are they family?
More people.
My perspective
is skewed. Mind shut down.
But familiar. Like a dream you barely remember...

Words fall out of my mouth. Again.
Dribbling down, like a dog with rabies.

Only momentarily do they look at me.

Ah... I want to go home.

The Rain is Pretty, in a Way...

Dipping into sorrow,
without warning or cause.
Downbeat raindrops,

s
l
o
w

tempo
brings me back down from the day...
I can sleep now, can rest now, but at what cost...
Almost at ease, but something
tugs inside of me...

Too tired to move, too tired and weak.
For some odd reason, tears try to push forward,
and fall
out of my eyes...

The world is whispering,
Shh, shh,
And the trees are dripping their quiet condolences...

but now is not the time for grieving,
no,
now is the time...
for this.

So I

f
a
l
l

into melancholy; gathering strength,
as a young seedling, absorbing energy

for tomorrow, so maybe
I can crawl out of bed...

and walk out of this house...


Maybe
I could tie up my hair;
an umbrella,
go on over to see your puppy, the newborn;

we could hold him together in the precious gloom,
we could smile and jest, and be together.

maybe I can be happy tomorrow...
so for now, I'll just let sadness take me...

With every promise repeated over again,
with reassurances I could not accept,
with gentle nothings that I forced upon you,
came this. The obvious.

I knew this would happen, but I clung so hard.
I pleaded and cried in a tiny voice.
I tried to hold you down with my little strength.
But your dual abandonment wore down my heart.

You're busy, you're out, you're tired, you've gone away;
you have homework, are sleeping, or are with someone else;
you leave me here to cry and clutch to my bunny rabbit.
Where have you gone? Why did you go away?

"...He left me here in this awful place..." I whisper to her, her inanimate eyes,
"...He didn't care enough to pull me out..."
"No, baby, nobody loves me anymore."
"I'll just go to sleep now, when I wake up, I'll be fine."

White-away

A clean, blank person, wiped down and waiting
to be decorated, to be scarred, to be filled with experience.

Every child has been dirtied and beaten,
plucked from their innocence and dropped
into a sea of t-r-a-s-h
flowing...
like the roots of that old tree, gnarled and worn down.
The endless game that nobody is winning
will cut away into solidity, and then into peace.

but remember...
how it once was pure; a small seed?
With paper-thin veins stretching into the soil?

Scribles in My Notebook:

A sinking feeling.
Tears
that refuse to fall.
Detached from the world.
Just wandering around,
long, long face; dark eyes, so round.

s
t
a
t
i
c

l
o
n
l
i
n
e
s
s
s
s
s

w
h
y

a
m

i

a
l
o
n
e
.

A single candle flame, a single flicker
Doused now; it's not there anymore
Nobody's home
again
n
n
n.
.
.

No other life in the room,
in the house. Tiny, tiny room gets tinier every day.
suffocating
no one's in here.
no one ever has been.
just machines to divert.
that is all, all i do.
this cage, fucking reason.
The garden is dead.
Dead. Dead. Dead.
I have no real problems.
Just a damaged head.
It's really nothing, just petty suffering.
Why
am I so
pathetic. really.
The tree branches crackle, like a final boss stage.
Purple fucking sky. Goddamn bushes.
Oh, look at me, I am loved because I curse, because I smoke, because I sniff; isn't that hardcore?
I dye my hair like trailer trash, ridiculous eyeliner like I just learned how to use it.
aeropostale shirt, giant godamn sweatpants, boyfriend's jacket, giant cheap ring.
im blank, i follow your ideas. i agree with whatever in contradicting reason.
ha ha, unquestioned faith. you're ridiculous mind, ridiculous.

You're home alone,
Or your parents are sleeping,
and your brother is out,
and you're friends can't talk now
or don't answer their phones.
Tiny breaths, tiny, shaking, and white. dusty.
everything. stuck in the past.
Falling out
for a moment,
a very, very long breath.
You can't sleep.
Clutch your head,
you pathetic wretch.
no reason to.
no reason at all.
no reason.
stop playing it up.
stop crying.
stop.
stop making excuses.
you're not worth a dime.
Write those words in blood,
carve them onto flesh, just to see them.
Wishes: IT'LL BE ALRIGHT,
and scraps of words: tired, sad, find me..., i want to go, ...allegro agitato...
Getting older.
Your body
becoming stiff, shrinking and wilting.
Alone, forgetting to blink.
Not caring.
A roaring headache that you made up.
Losing my structure.
song lyrics, because i can't write my own.
polar bears keep me warm
in the lost penguin winter.
notes, notes, notes, margin.
where does all that pointlessness lead you?
to more work. more money, but so much goddamn work.
according to a book that i read in sixth grade,
dolphin's songs last for hours,
like me, like this thing.
nothing better to do, there never is.
being redundant.
repeating myself.
constant loop.
repeat: one.
sleep: 30 mins.
all songs.
scroll.
play and close eyes.
repeat.

Fall asleep without realizing it.
dream a ludicrous dream, and wake up.
hope and mild humor get crushed by mom's yelling,
by long, droning hours
of silence.
by the time you see your friends
youve already faded out of the day.
just go home and sleep.
----------------

Cloudy Daydream Wishes

A pastel, washed-out bunny rabbit
walking along the shore.

Long ears have fallen now, gentle ears, trailing lightly across the sand.
The absence of nothingness, but the lack of substance. The water washes on her paws.

The air isn't salty. There is no wind, no uncomfortable breeze, no disagreeable smell.
No squawking of birds. This place is not unpleasant. The clouds are not dreary, but comforting...

It is morning, a very soft morning. But yet, it is lacking something. The day stretched thin.
She feels a stirring in her chest, but does not know why.

She longs for... what is it that she longs for? What is she searching for?
She does not know. A stranger in her own heart. But she collects her scattered thoughts to wish for... to wish.

She turns her head to the horizon. White against dull blue.
She can see a place across the sea. Far off. ...Perhaps she could go there someday.

Perhaps it is warm there, perhaps, perhaps... Perhaps it is sunny and defined.
Perhaps it is bright there. Perhaps she can smile, pouring out colors like a spectrum.

Perhaps it is a good place. Not perfect, but normal.
This is what she wishes for...

Make plans to build a boat. Distant and hopeless plans.

Scuffed knees, dirty face.
Hug them close to your chest.
Body shivering under your cloak.
Eyes seem squinted from crying all day.
Red cheeks and dried tears are the remnants of feeling.

You've made your decision.

Back against the hard brick wall, in the alley.
Reach into your pocket and grab salvation.
Trembling hands hold the tiny pills,
Bittersweet salvation; can you reach it?

You once were a person, but now you're just this.
You once wore a smile, but now you wear static.
You don't deserve pity, yet you pity yourself.
A loathsome creature.
You took it all for granted.
No one left to care for you now...
No reason to stay.

Close your eyes, steel yourself.
Take a deep breath.
Swallow.

Unfinished

The soft gray light
casts upon the unlit room.
An almost eerie silver
lines the windowsills and washes on the rooftops,
fills the scenery with its numbing tinge; spreads out like sunbeams.
Watery green drips, the vines
snake around this endless place, creates substance; the trunks of trees. Fills the scene.
A dark mass is the sum of this lonesome world,
the addends are senseless.

Giving Up

She's picturesque perfect,
a red-headed angel.
She is good company,
can make people smile.
She is admirable, she is a socialite.
She is beautiful.
You must really love her.

I could never compete with her;
I don't know why I even try.
I am not beautiful, not particularly well-liked or special.
I am not a nothing, but I am awfully close.
I don't deserve you.
She deserves the moon.

I must force down the fluttering in my heart,
I must swallow this feeling.

Because if the shadows around me amount to a darkness,
that I could fall into at any moment, like a canyon,
then I couldn't handle the collateral pain,
no matter how childish.
No matter how stupid.

You are Dearly Loved

A flighty, breezy late-spring day
in which the air is warm and moves right through you.
You can feel the drum of your heart beating,
you can hear the sound of your lungs filling
with air and breathing in and out; a comforting rhythm.

Never have you ever opened your eyes so wide;
never have you been so alive,
running through the sunny street
in your little white dress and large sun hat.

You belong here to make me feel less alone
to take up space in this spacious home,
and the people you love nod towards you, check on you,
Their bodies bobbing in and out of the rooms, like felines.

The typed words carrying through the phone,
the short recordings playing just for you...
a momentary lapse in time means nothing;
we are system of smiles turning towards you, we love you.

We love you, we love you,
just know that we love you.

Mirror Observation

She is sickly, she is sad.
Her attempts at normalcy are all but feigned.
She lies to herself, she tells herself a fairytale
so that she may perhaps sleep through the night.
Her smile is a facade; her pain is endured alone,
and she chases a shadow she can never grasp, never reach, never catch.
Her eyes are insincere, her reassurances mean nothing, and her voice is inaudibly trembling.
Her life is a joke, her fate is a tragic comedy, her words are blasphemy.

Over the years, her bones have sunken into silence; she has submitted herself to the irrefutable, inescapable truth.
She sits on the patio on a cloudy, humid Sunday.
Where are you, dearest? Where did you go? is carried on the nonexistent breeze...
If she could feel that person's touch, then surely, it would all be okay.

Strong Child

For Nanny

Sitting on the playground swing,
all alone.
Shadows in the late afternoon.

Golden color spilling out on the ground. Orange-y. Getting darker, slowly.
Light is still escaping
from the clenched fist of the sun.
A feeling of dread at the base of your chest.
Your aching heart.

Soft breezes on the May green leaves.
You want to tell them how you feel, but there is no purpose in doing so.
Her words echo through the back of your head.
The endless footsteps of sadness sound, like rain on the rooftop.

The Part that's Missing

blinded, white-out.
gray words on black static.
i don't want to see or hear or feel all this crap,
all these useless images and sounds
filling my mind and body.
i don't want this life
a soft breeze touching my cheek,
or a raging wind;
i just don't want it.
all of the pretty words, the cheap condolences, the disappointing faces.
yeah, yeah.
i'll try to feel better.
as if that means anything.
as if that helps.

i just want to hear her voice.

Distracted

Rhythm schemes become tangled in the evening treetops,
and the sunlight is pretty, but it washes out our rhymes,
and the wind gently shakes our metaphors so that they become strange,

and do not fit into our mosaic masterpiece.

Oasis in the Desert

I miss you, and I am starved of your touch.
My need for your comforting words
is the dry back of my throat, the parched desert ground.

Your memory is a mirage, but a pleasant one, and
my dream of a life with you is an oasis.

The sands are hot, and the air
singes the hairs on my arms,
burns my feet.

I am dying, and time
has evaporated and left a riverbed.
I am dying, and lost
in the sweet insanity of my own loneliness.

The Other Side

I stare at that brightness
through a window.
It blinds my eyes, and I cannot reach it.

I want to be enveloped
by all of that light out there;
but it hurts my head, and now I cannot see it.

The afternoon is peaceful, and waiting on the other side...
static fills my ears and a sharp scent stings my nose;
in here is darkness.

I stretch out arm, underneath the crescent moon
glued to the ceiling, and receive a small taste of it...
I sit in this darkness, and I'm waiting, I'm waiting...

Waiting for these shadows to fall away,
and for the barrier to break...

until this side and the other side unite as one,
and in the place of this feeling comes normalcy, a happy glow.

Pointless Hope

Clauses left hanging after the comma,
as if cut off-- left to ellipsis...
The remnants of emotions translated into words
are gone-- you have none,
you do not exist.

Awoken from a Dream

Now I pull the candle flame closer to me,
as warm as a crowded-around hearth.
My brother plays his guitar erratically,
and the brownish-yellow lamplight
within the hopeful night.

...I awake, and my peculiar
nightmare draws to a close.
My teeth no longer chatter against the cold,
lessened to slight chill, and the spring cherry-blossoms.

The sky is real, an indigo color, and there is a whole world waiting underneath of it.
I lift my eyes up to it, a little dizzy, but whole.