113: a quote

"i can't believe how strange it is to be anything at all." -n.m.h, 1998

112

i don't want to
but i know
i will forget everything
i used to know.

all those things,
like love and life
will fade to ghosts
and dull like knives.

it just goes to show
that nothing stays, and nothing glows
like love and life and these old knives,
and this winter's snow.

111: something i wrote a long time ago

this is something i wrote in spring, 2007.

-----------

My feet are cold. Yet, it is 30 degrees outside and my roommates are
complaining.

 It's raining outside. Whenever it rains, it pours. The birds and
squirrels hide under the trees. The plants are happy.

 I love the sound of rain. It brings back memories; bad memories and
good ones, too. It makes sure that the past has been real
experiences.

 Sherry is crying in the bathroom. She cries every time the sky
cries. They cry together like they are one. But today, Sherry is
sobbing. Today must be different; something must be happening.

 I think I understand Sherry, unlike most people. I think that when
she cries, she's secretly singing, and I love the songs. I love the
lyrics and all the notes. I love the way she drags them a meter long.
Her face is most beautiful when she cries, but she doesn't cry a lot,
and it doesn't rain a lot.

 I can see people outside, taking each other's hands and drinking
the rainwater in. I want to join them in this celebration. I want to
be part of the rain, make love to the rain.

 But I can't.

 I'm sitting behind a window, and I'm watching, hoping.

 I can't feel my feet. I think I'm dying.

 Sherry, cry for me.

110

baby,
you
are
the
frozen
sea.

109

no,
no,
no.
i know the world
would never want to hurt me.

108

i miss summer.

107

what helps you sleep in lonely nights?
do you think about me,
a limp body lying next to you?

and what would you do,
and how much,
for this warm flesh, not rotting but loving?

if you were a bird, would you give up the sky?
if you were a fish, would you give up the sea?
what about the earth, if you were a tree,
is it all worth it, just to be next to me?

106

oh it's sad, cruel world,
when you make me forget what it means to feel.
but here i am, thanking you,
because today i woke up, bursting with emotion,
my eyes burning the colour of red,
my skin peeling the shade of blue.

yeah, i remember it all now, what love could be,
it's so definitely there,
when i hear that sweet, sweet voice on the phone,
or a recording that has it trapped in time.

it's artificial, but the voice seems so close i can almost taste it in my lungs.

so thank you, world;
thank you for saving this memory for me,
because forgetting then remembering is even better than having it in me all the time.

105

i feel like you know that my fingers can't reach far enough to grab this voice that tangles my veins at night in my deep sleep

where i think i'm awake but it's all a dream and i can't reach far enough to grab your skin that wraps around me, closer tighter tighter than that of my own.

104

stretch my throat, dear god.
there are too many pills i have to take,
too much blood i have to spit
to make new blood
so that i can breathe and
take more pills.

103

i'll throw you into the snowbank like you
threw me into the sea.

this is happiness.

102

the snow won't stop falling on me.
it's barely winter, but i already miss the song of the birds,
your eyes, shining in the sunset of autumn.

in this home i am not home.
in this home, i am surrounded by white walls too cold and too bare.

it's like, if somebody were to strip me down,
peel my skin away,
they would be left with this,
because this is where i am
and this is what i cannot help but be.

101: rest in peace, ally

i'm so, so afraid.
how am i supposed to stand up straight?

i wish i had faith now, so i can pretend i'll see you again.
but don't worry, rest in your silent peace forever,
because as long as i live, i won't forget about you.
i know you're carved into my brain.
you were part of the most amazing week of my life.

i left you a facebook message but i know you'll never see it.
that is so unreal to me.
i wish you would visit,
tell me chilling stories of how you came to be,
and teach me how you simply vanished from the world.

100

what are you thinking about when you look at me
with those eyes, like that?
it reminds me of hungry bellies,
empty, like bedrooms of houses where no one's watching.

give us something else to do
so you'll stop looking at me like that,
because it makes me uneasy
and i'd rather think about how good you smell
than watch those eyes freeze me from head to toe.

99: some very nice lyrics

"my first vision was a bush growing down the river ,
and i couldn't stop crying .
something was missing .
i realized i was in love with a voice.
i called it, again, and again,
but all i heard was the echo in the light" -m83, 2005

98

today's my favourite day so far.

97

you can't do anyone harm,
but you've got secrets you won't share.

nostalgia.

56

i have to pee
but i'm scared that if i leave this room i'll see ghosts
crawling up on the walls in the hall
sucking at my feet
dragging me down like they did to you.

95

what do you want me to say?
because i'll say it just to make you happy.

94

close my eyes then drag me around
this house is down, these streets too narrow.
kiss this smoke and strip in silence
sing along to the morning's sparrow.

i know i've lived once and i'll live again.
loosen your grasp and let me in
back in the room where we stood still,
to peel my skin against my will.

i won't refuse to swallow this pill.

93: for drew

it was very loud in the night time, and i thought to myself,
"this is what we've been reduced to".
we took our tired eyes and tired minds, stumbled home with them,
flipped our soundtrack to side b,
and stumbled out again.

do you get it? this is our life.

this is our life and this is our city;
we cannot sleep like we do elsewhere.
we can murmur more questions,
lose that sound into the dark like the missing day in february.
there is hardly ever an answer,
but there is also hardly a question too stupid to ask.

and whoever she may end up to be,
i hope for you only the best, my dear friend,
because there is something i have that i think i deserve:
a fair boy's fragrant kiss, his warm hands in this cold winter.
you know,
i want you to be happy like i am happy,
live every week like it's the final week,
smile like you're counting snowflakes and sunsets into these magical hours,
because you deserve that and so much more.

92

it's so quiet.

makes me wonder,
was it you who left these scratches on my walls,
and disease on my back?
it must have been,
because this morning when i lifted my head up, and thought i saw you through my window,
your small, round figure in the reflection and hands into fists,
my eyes fell out
and didn't want to crawl back.

91

"fucked it up again, but i'm not looking the other way.
i see my errors and i know i'm wrong, but it's gonna take way more than that,
to change my ways and start thinking straight, be the person i aspire to be.
own up to myself. turn my life around.
make amends to my friends, i owe to myself and them.
pledge of allegiance to myself. so i must fucking say: i will change.
no more selfish ways, no more for # 1; its done.
arrogance is of the past: so i must fucking say: i will change.
so you gonna try, or is it gonna be the same fucking song?
i must find, i'll strive for.
i must find, i'll strive for.
HUMILITY.
so don't lose, don't lose...your way.
don't lose your way.
i said it's time we really take a look at ourselves
and start caring about someone else." -h.h 2006

90

if i could rip open the sky,
and let out all the rain,
i would i would
i would

let all the raindrops drench my eyes,
so they'll moisturize my modest mind.

89: nostalgia

today i stood in front of that cold window again in the kitchen.
only two people live here now.
i tried to imagine what my roommates would be talking about in the kitchen if they were still here.
no, it didn't work.

it's too quiet now.

i remember not too long ago, standing in the same spot,
with coffee in my mug,
thinking about how many more cups i'll have,
checking the time constantly,
waiting for the party to start.

yeah and i remember moving in here that first night,
sleeping in the cold dark room alone for the first time,
curtain pulled up so i can watch the moon and the city,
window open so i can hear the pre-frosh yells of already-drunk first years on the street.

i remember crying myself to sleep and thinking "this is it this is it this is fucking it, right?
i've grown up way too fast.
is this really fucking it?"

88: fuck the world

yeah, i can scream,
and i will.

87

there is no real distance
except the one between our breaths,
and the one between your legs and mine.

86

i heard this angel in my sleep.
she danced in my head,
put cotton underneath my eyelids.
she sang to me until i fell asleep, woke up, then asleep again.

but those notes, they stung me every time, like a needle piercing through my spine.
i don't understand...


have i done something wrong?

85

how come i miss you already?

84: for sean and snow

oh glittery snow,
wrap your delicate selves around my skin,
slip secretly between the strands of my hair!
embrace me until i cannot breathe,
help me ease this tension built up between my brows.

yes, i love him i love him i love him.
i climbed mount fuji and screamed it out.
my voice turned soft, melted into a million cherry blossom pedals.

fifty miles away, a plucked flower wilts,
but i know three others have grown in its place, and together they are prettier than the first.

83

we know this is wrong,

but why do we do it?

82

tell me the story of your skinny ribs.
they tunnel through me for hours at a time,
and i swear i can see stars each time,
sprayed and scattered across a sheltered black sky.

then these stars, they remind me of how you are everywhere.
inside me, all around me,
all filled in this room,
all over these walls.

then when i dream of you, i'm sedated. i can’t tell a fantasy from authenticity
it makes me wonder where i am,

how did i get here?

and

have i reached the top of the mountain?

81

my arm is burning and peeling away this layer on my body;
it's no longer useful.
and i can see your eyes on my ceiling,
spying on me, making sure i play my part.

80

how swollen is your stomach?
did i crawl inside yet,
did i choke on your veins yet?
yes i did,
scratched my name on these walls.
slept until i could not tell the day from the night,
could not remember our names, and how long ago we met.

with these fists, i've made these holes.
how is your swollen stomach?

79

you can strip me of my skin,
but you can't steal my body,
and you can't steal my attitude.

whoa, hey, i see you've unwrapped your broke fists.
it was no use living like that,
under the impression that the light was already bright enough,
i'm glad you're all better now.

78

i'll never lose my imagination,
i'll stay young forever with you.

77: birthday tomorrow

when i wake up tomorrow,
i will feel older and more worthless,
but i will feel beautiful.

and each and every one of you incredible souls and bodies
is going to make me momentarily forget (or disregard)
how many setting suns i've seen,
how much hair i've lost on my head.

when this is over, it will be just another day,
my nails growing,
my eyes blinding,
and teeth rotting into this forgiving smile:
start betraying my heart.

76

my hands are too cold,


but thinking about you warms my heart.

75

i woke up next to a pillow today,
my arms wrapped all around,
face buried in.

i could have sworn i heard you whisper my name,
telling me to wake up,
kissing my forehead,
but waking up next to this was the biggest disappointment i had felt in a very long time.

it's only been a day,
but i crave you more than than ever.

74

i wish these hands of mine were strong enough to push you away,
because you're the last thing i need right now.

73

oh, pretty body,
grab me and lift me up!
off the ground, higher than these clouds that loom over the city today,
higher than any of that pretty blue.

then ask me if i've felt any better than this height,
and i'll say "yes, yes, yes i have! today's morning passed too quickly
but i was awake and i've touched skin,
and skin has burned holes on my body
so that i no longer crave anything but this morning all over again."

72

like winter, you're bitter and you're sweet.
and spring too, summer and fall,
i need you around all the time like i need to taste
the different texture of every november.

you're not just a pretty face.
you're not just a pretty face.

this winter is too cold,
it will be my first toronto december in two years.
yeah, this cold cuts and snow is sore;
i'd go but
my home is here and i can't leave you.

i wish i wish i wish there was away for me to drive you there,
because you're welcome with me any time you like.

71

you gave me six months of hell.
no way are they coming back.

never ever ever again.

70: six more days

i can't stop coughing,
my head is pounding.
i miss you,
i miss your skin.

is time running out?
am i going to spend my last precious days like this?
am i going to sit here and pretend i'll just ease into another year?
i am pathetic.




this is nothing.

69: my favourite song at the moment

68

picture this:

on a night like this,
you are cut and injured,
and you're so lightheaded you can't even see.

this is the only thing keeping you from falling apart:
your two friends who are with you,
one sitting to the left of you,
one on the right
in a vacant subway car.

you know that it's either too early or too late,
and a mere 12 hours ago it was crowded with people of all ages,
races,
blood types and hair colours.

and then you look down at your trembling fingers and legs,
you know you spent too much money again,
and what are you going to do about all this workworkwork and no more
no more play?
you're still speaking to them
but you're no longer thinking about the words


then you realize it's better than going home alone,
where you'll stay for the next couple of days,
again, workworkwork and no absolutely no fucking play.

it'll be like sleeping,
absolutely no soul in sight.

then ask yourself:
why the fuck is this a home?
what do you go home to?

67

slip your hands into my eyes,
down my throat,
and out through my stomach.

open me up like you would the sky.

66

my 18th birthday is in a week.
i'm dying so quickly.
i'm dying quicker than everyone else.

what am i going to do
with my last days as a child?
i have no purity, no virtue,
this life so far has had no value.
i want to bathe in cool rainwater, sleep under this layer of snow.

what is this? what are these years?
i don't need a house,
i’ll wish for these minutes back, days you've spent without me at home.

and then one day when you shift out of me, time,
there will be utterly nothing left inside of me.

65

you were right.
look at this: today is a new day.

i shivered but the snow fell all over me.
covered me, erased my thoughts, made me warm
under what i thought would only make me colder.

i feel better. a lot better than yesterday.


you're so great and
i love you.

64

i'm not an artist.
i did not create these beautiful things that reflect through my lens.
not at all, i simply locked them in place so they may never be gone.

i don't want to forget a second.
even in my death, these photographs will keep me alive.
these memories like dreams,
like this gorgeous landscape in front of me,
waiting to be captured.

63

i am dreadfully worried about you.
you're wearing off, getting tired. i noticed of late you’re drained of your pretty.

you tell me it's not unlike anything you've seen, like these sunsets in your eyes.
but it shouldn't be justified that way.
you haven't broken each and every bone.

while admittedly, this whole thing brings me a small comfort
like a baby sparrow (a bird so small that can inch through all these ripped open holes of my body)
into my disappointment of a life.
it makes me dry through my swollen throat.

what else can i do for you? i can't change anything.
nothing is mine to change.
but these nights, when the hours seem to get shorter,
when we're sleeping really late,
i'll slip inside this mold of playing shadows
and pray for you to to end this battle in your head.

62

i'm scattered, inconsistent, and all over the place.
that's the sort of girl i am.
i have a delicate body, i have a breakable mind.

look here, i am just like these feeble, trembling lips,
they match my hands so well, the same ones that fumble through the dark,
hoping to find the familiar heat of your body next to mine.

nobody knows – but there are so many things i despise about myself.
maybe soon you'll be able to taste this bitterness through my teeth,
see it on my dialogue,
feel it wrapped around my fingers, aching to clasp my own throat.
this is how hard i try to impress myself.

in reality, you don't even know me very well,
but so far you've love me all the same.
the least i can do for you is map my mind out as much as i can,
so that you'll understand me
and possibly let me love you like nobody else.

61

this is what i am and all i can be.

i can't show you, but i'll tell you: i occasionally hear the colour red.
it's the music of these pretty leaves rotting into the sea,
where water waves to us for an eternity.

it's so elegant.


i can see you running over here, why are you doing that?
with these orange feet you were given,
helping you get ahead of yourself.

yeah, people think they know me. people imagine they know everyone.
it's ok. i'll clear one thing up:
yellow could be the hue of my existence, but
when you skin this layer away i will shine three shades of green.
i am like sickness, nausea. an incredible disease.

pathetic; i can't help but latch on to you.



so then i own these tiny blue knees and violet legs.
these are things i cannot justify, and i wish i could.
you would respect me more, or know all my colours.

one thing i can’t see, is god in my bloodshot eyes.
i can only drop deeper in this black hole of mine.

sad, but this is what i am and all i can be.

60

this rain on my glass.

and so there's also this field in front of me,
painted blue tracks with white lines too concrete for smearing from shoes.
how many people can fit on this field,
if their shoulders were to nearly, but not quite touch?

will you be here tonight? will i be there tonight?
no.
today is kind of a bad day.
my eyes are blurry from reading too many texts,
but it's only only only the early afternoon.
today’s been so drowsy; even the sun has not gotten up.
grey clouds turn black clouds turn grey.
nobody is going to be anywhere tonight.

and so there's also this mirror in front of me.
it's always been there, but it's still a surprise,
because this head is so muddy and dirty now,
i no longer remember what i look like.

59

there's a place i want to show you,
but it's so far and we can't possibly go there by foot
(planes are good for this)
plus, it's so cold and bitter now.
our limbs would freeze,
i’m convinced we would regret it later,
sighing as we are looking at our frostbitten fingers.

i hope you don't mind
that where i want to be rarely sees blue skies.
it's a place where the sun is a stranger,
but everyone smiles and it warms my neglectful heart.

i’m in your heart,
but i’ll live forever in this great city.

58

when you are sleeping at night,
i slip in through your throat,
move your lips to the song of my poems,
each gentle letter of my name.

each night, i stir your stomach,
ripping open all the red i can,
so maybe your sadness will bleed through these open veins
and drain out of you.
be gone for so long
that by the time you forget about me, you would have forgotten this too.
decades.

for decades, for decades, and decades
like water splitting open a rock,
i work slowly,
but surely.

next time you hear that brushing sound in your belly,
you'll know that i am alive in there,
eating at this rawness.

it is not much,
but this is something i can do.
if i could give up this much of myself to you,
and you to me,
our feet will be warmed, everything can be alright
when we are sleeping at night.

57

you taste like honey in my mouth,
is that ok?
when you laugh, it sounds like the rustling of leaves.
ticking clocks and waiting rocks, a single dripping drop of water.
this always reminds me of a moon that is 98 percent full.

i'm too shy to tell you in person,
but you're really, very special to me;

you burn holes on my skin like no one else can.

56

i'm riding on a heavy, black wave,
wind pushing gently westward.
i thought i'd like it but i don't.

i've changed my mind!
take me back to where i came from!
let me crawl back in this sticky womb!
i don't want my very own pair of eyes.
i don't want my very own pair of lungs.

just
let me go let me go let me go.

55

there are so many things i'm doing wrong.
i'm stuck here, in this shell that has hardened too early.
i am convinced i should be spending this time to catch my breath,
so that's what i do,
all these things, all wrong.

i want to be morphed into something amazing,
when this shell breaks,
when my ears pop open again.
on this day, this artificial song will stop repeating.


oh beautiful earth,

i will be born here, i will be dead here,
but everything i do will be so, so right.

54

my room is getting messier and messier.
my head is getting heavier and heavier.

i love you, winter,
but why must you make me so so cold?

53

i want to be flipped and read and scanned like a novel.

so wrap me in all the books you've read,
all the pages, stained with your greasy fingerprints
around my thighs, eyes,
my vibrating and swollen vocal chords,
the tips of every hair on my head.
but replace the words with your arms and veins;
pour this story all over me.



hey, it was raining again today.
you know i'll miss you like i miss the sun.

52

it's going to be the worst feeling in the world,
watching you walk away
then lying on top of the print you made on my pillow.

51

stabbed my index finger on a prick
of my little smiling cactus, just now
while thinking about the speed of clouds traveling south
on a rainy day.

blood squeezed out of a tiny hole,
formed a bubble on me,
like a freshly plucked berry from its tree.

so i smeared my wound on my legs,
spelled out your name,
eyes followed the bend of an s,
and i wondered why you have so many curves in your name.

it hurts so much now,
like burning when i washed my hands,
but it's no big deal.

it's nothing a band-aid can't heal.

50

what does a painting sound like?

"ringing in my ears, and the taste of rain."
an old woman would whisper through her toothless mouth,
breathing in a foreign language i don't speak.

when i'm around people i can hear their bones shrinking away with age.
i can smell their deteriorating brain,
i can see their skin peeling, taste the tears they've shed,
for one hundred years of solitude,
one thousand vessels in their arms.

it scares me, you know?
makes me sick like winter,
feels like a bug
that accidentally flew through the crack of a museum window.
can't ever never ever ever leave.

but i have you,
and here!
here is the pretty sound of your young bones,
squeaking as they wrap around my cold shoulders.
our birthdays glowing pink in our bellies,
burning a two digit number through us when our mouths open.

yeah, i want you to know
that it's all ok when you're around;


but this only makes me miss you more.

49: why i'm straight edge

i get so tempted sometimes to fuck up my life.
smoke my brain cells,
shoot, drink, through my cuts and bruises and veins,
until my intestines wrap around my neck
and choke me until my eyes bleed.

but i'm stronger than that.
i have self-control.
i have inner-strength, inner-peace.
i'm tough as nails,
i've got the straight edge.

it's pink and purple out right now,
if i had none of those things,
my soul would be rotting the colour of the sky.

48

i woke up this morning with a large cut on my left leg,
bruised green all around,
and red scratches blanketing my chest.

i don't recall a nightmare.
in fact, my dream was like honey.
on a boat in italy, jumping in holding hands with you.
ancient waterways straightened out my bones,
and wrapped around the smallest curve of my waist.

i thought it was your arms at first, holding on to me,
but i looked up and saw you were already in the purple sky,
waiting with your eyes wide open,
mouth spread into a smile.

which is why i was so surprised today,
waking up to blood stained sheets,
and a tingling feeling in my head,
making me so dizzy i almost thought my trip with you was reality.

47

your soul like fire,
your eyes like stone.

(i do miss you but sometimes i don't.)

you smell the same, even under the sunlight.
your sweetness clings to me like a needy child,
with each awkward gasp, it clutches tighter,
urging for some salvation in its mouth.

46

i've left a place for all of you in my heart.
i sectioned off each bit,
unequally, but there is room, i promise,
for all your antique furniture,
and records (even the broken ones).

don't worry about food;
you can feed off my affection,
and i will pump blood into your veins
and acid into your muscles.

the air i breathe is not perfect,
but it will have to do for now.

45

oh my god.
where have you been all my life?
even in my sleep i can hear you breathe.

keep etching those scrapes.
i don't mind if you keep me up all night.

44

it's so windy out that my crane is waving back and forth
dangerously above a thousand pedestrians,
and 20 parked cars, waiting at the red light.

all these people,
with every step they pluck my veins full of regret.
they remind me of all the books i haven't read,
all the knowledge i wish i could already possess.
like i've said before, i'm so young
but also so old.

how many times have i walked down this street?
how many times have i breathed this tight air through my mouth?

365 by 17...18...19.........45.

there are so many things i want:
when i wake up, for you here instead of there,
when i'm aged, to be successful,
when i walk, to be safe and aware, from cranes a billion feet above my head.

i never thought i'd say this but
i'm getting tired of this view.

really? 365 by 17?
dear friend, it's been too long since i've counted my pathetic age in my head.

43

rip my eyes out again.

you finally understand now?
what you want will come much too soon,
are you sure you'll be ready?
if you blink you'll miss it.

then again, it doesn't matter if you understand.
the world will turn without you,
the crane outside my window will keep rotating at 3km per hour,
trees will fall,
the ground will crack,
and like ghosts they'll wrap their arms around you.

are you sure you'll be ready?
this embrace, (i know it well), is too tight to make you warm.

42

will somebody please dig me a hole?
i'm not strong enough to dig my own,
but i really need one to crawl in
to watch the clouds rotate.


i won't mind the earth scratching my body,
won't care if worms creep into my nose, and nest in my lungs.

at midnight i'll freeze in my sleep.
dream of wide beaches with white sand,
mountains with deep valleys,
oceans big enough to swallow ten thousand villagers alive.

in this hole you'll dig me,
in this house you'll build me,
in these eyes you'll give me,
i swear to fucking god,
i'll swallow the sun.

41

it's cute how you can flip me inside out,
wring out my misery,
and fold me back up as if i was born that way.

40

please pry me open with a crowbar,
dug straight down between my ribs.

peel my bones and veins away from my heart,
and wrap it in a ribbon, stained with love,
and the lyrics to your favourite acoustic song.

i'm convinced that if you do it,
i'll be able to live again.

try it, help me.
if it works,
then maybe this decomposing heart will heal,
or at least mask its odorous maggots.

39

perfect?
my friend, you do not know what perfection is.
through your pale eyes you only see what i want you to see.

i know well how to hide my imperfections,
all too well, my insecurities and mistakes.

i am going to be so, so sad
when my skin and bones turn into glass,
when you're able to see right through me
as if i'm illuminated from the inside out.

38

i don't know when i fell asleep,
but i know that i did at some point under the weight of your arms,
draped over my body like paperweights.

i'm sorry that my feet are frozen and numb.
who knows? maybe there is rotting wood in my heart,
hidden underneath muscle tissue and wrapped by my weak and dying bones.

you're so young and naive, but so am i.
i need someone to tell me what to do,
where to dive,
where to plant myself so that i can grow.

i can't decide what to think;
i was so tired when i woke up, and sad when you left.

when i tug at your skin in the night like a sleepless ghost,
tell me you'll be back soon.

37: what i am sorry for.

do you know what is sad?

there are so many people alive in the world,
but i don't even know a fraction.

light bent, sin cos tan, so much so much learning that i haven't done,
or knowledge i've forgotten.

it's only 7:12am and my crane is already turning for the day,
over cars on bloor street,
spraying black paint into the sky.
on days like these, i am sleepless.
my body begs for the cold to crawl under my eyes,
and to wait to be sewn shut.


i'm sick of hearing time ticking...
much too quiet now; jon birgisson should be sleeping too.

it's slowly getting so bright out,
i can't even keep my eyes open to see the sun rise.

36

i want to live next to you, in a bed of flowers.
where have you been?
this feeling of your eyes on me have been gone for too long.

the crane out my window is still turning,
this time for someone else.
people on the street are still crawling along the sidewalk,
this time to somewhere else.

it's scary to think they're alive and all over me.

you know, these arms are not machines but flesh and blood.
and these lips are part of my body, but i still hate to say it:

i miss you.

35

the ocean is not made of tears.
it has arms that embrace boats and ships;
a million people at a time.

in my dream, i hugged the ocean.
i jumped in its mouth and swam for years,
until my lungs disappeared,
until my fingers were numb in the morning.

the ocean is like seattle.
if i were brave enough, i could live there forever.
i'd always be alone though, but isn't that what i like?

34

can i peel your eyes open?
it's morning.
i'll spread your arms wide, and crawl inside your chest.
pull out all the sorrow in you,
and sprinkle it out the window, to be carried away by the wind.

i know you're sad and stressed.
keep sleeping it off.
then let me peel your eyes open.

look, it's morning!
it's another perfect day.

33

for the first time in so long,
i feel incredible.

now i know what an adrenaline rush is like,
and i'm pretty sure i'm hooked.

my blood is pumping to the beats of my favourite band,
and i am jumping around in my room, screaming the lyrics,
crashing into furniture,
flipping over tables. (i will regret this later.)

my keyboard fell over and crashed onto my head,
my chair flipped over my body, its legs stabbed into my stomach.
i am going to be so bruised tomorrow.

i don't care what happens to me,
i just want to have fun.
so come on baby, dance with me.

32

you're so little and cute and i am pretty sure i'm completely in love with you.

31

do you ever get the feeling of wanting to be hurt?

i want to be punched in the gut,
i want to get cut on my arms.
i want to fight back so hard that my knuckles bleed and my eyes blur and i want everything to spinspinspin spin around until it all becomes black and and spotted with white dots under my eyelids and and
i'll throw up my guts and pools of blood.

my lungs, my stomach, my heart.

i won't be able to breathe quite properly,
but i'll stumble away holding my stomach and the wall,
feeling nothing else but a little bit of defeat and a lot of victory.

30

i smell disgusting.
i cut my finger on a violin string.
but for a day full of let-downs, i am strangely content.


if you were here right now, snuggled up in blankets,
our faces lit up with a movie on my computer screen,
i'd probably tell you that i feel like water
and i'd pour myself all over you, little tree,
while wishing that you would grow into something i could love.

29

i wanted so badly to feel something.
so i pulled the blinds down halfway,
closed my door,
counted sheep, battled sleep.
lights off, i watched half of my movie alone on mute with my favourite song playing loudly on my speakers.

i'm addicted to the vibrations.
i'd live off it if i could. i'd swallow it all and feel it sink in my throat.



i feel shitty but that's fine.
i know i did this to myself.

28

it's orange and gorgeous again outside.
where have my glasses gone?

there are no plans for me to sleep tonight,
i will stay up, massage my headache away,
pluck the strings on my violin
to the sounds of my growling stomach.

i'll pretend i can hear my heartbeat,
and i'll try my hardest to stay in tempo.
no one will hear me, but i will.
right now, it's all that matters.


do you know what i mean?

27

the moon is low and big tonight
i can almost touch it.

is anybody else captured by the same beauty?
there must be someone.
please, i hope i'm not alone.

26

i saw you in my dream again last night.
what are the chances?
we spent what felt like days hiking up the fuji,
and pretended we were lost in the forests,
and drank the fog and mist.

and how strange is it,
that in my dream, at 6:50am (i looked at the watch on my wrist seconds before)
you whispered "look at the sky",
and at 6:50am (i checked at my alarm clock soon after),
i woke up suddenly with a jerk.

the sky, like spilled water colours, was dyed with a light bar of pink and purple.
it was so beautiful i could cry.
but my eyes were dry,
and my body was hot but all of a sudden i felt so cold.
there was nothing else to do but crawl back under my blanket.



i don't recall a second dream, but i am certain i fell asleep again.
all i remember was the wind coming through my window,
caressing my face,
begging me to get some rest.

25

elly comes into my room this morning
with tears dripping down her face
and her hair a mess.

i wanted to tell her that it's ok,
and that her boyfriend will be back real soon.
instead, i hugged her and brushed her hair with my fingers and told her to clean herself up.

it's ok if she thinks i don't understand
it's ok if she thinks i don't know what it feels like
to wake up alone,
feeling disgustingly empty
inside and out.

24: excerpt from a book

"i've got this theory. t's called the reinvention theory. this is how it goes. if you become somebody beat or fucked up then you will be unrecognizable to your parents and loved ones. they will beg you to change, but when they see you are genuinely a different person -- because maybe you've dyed your hair seven different colours or obtained your allowance from dirty-fingered old men in the street or put a ring through your pussy or tattooed milk fucking toast on your forehead or scarred your body on all the visible areas or yelled words like shit cunt pussy dyke faggot mail-oder bride, snuff flicks cock ring john homles is my dad or cut off your body parts and mailed them care of mom and dad -- then they'll realize how terribly sorry they are and they will kill themselves and leave you with all their money and a blackboard with i fucked your life written two million times in their own blood.

i think about going back sometimes. i'll pretend to sell jesus or some kind of magazine. they won't open the door, so i'll have to sneak my way through the radiator vents. my father will still be there with his newspaper, never changing out of that housecoat, my mother still clicking the remote, even after the batteries still run out.

they won't ever forget.

i ran to the door and looked up at the sky. the wind outside was fierce. it whipped. put holes in your body. hung you upside down.
sometimes you just have to do something.
it was easy. i opened the door. i closed the door.

know the best part? my house shrinking away behind me."

-mm '98

23

i'm sad and angry and frustrated and sad.
i want to tear a slit in the sky.
i want to sew my mouth shut.
i want to carve your words onto my bruised and cut up limbs,
and feel my blood rush out like water through a broken dam.

don't you understand?
what you want will come too soon,
much quicker than you had anticipated,
and by then it will be too late,
much too late for you to understand.

22

i enjoy the company of other people, so i constantly surround myself with them.

i hate sleeping alone most of all,
so it was a nice change to wake up with not one person,
but two people in the same room as you.

it's ok, though,
i'm glad i can fit you all in my head,
and i can take you with me anywhere, anytime.

i don't think i'm needy,
and it's ok if you don't understand me when i say
"i've just been so awfully lonely all this time."

21

these days i've been losing weight again;
my body is shrinking like a person would with old age.
i can feel my skin tightening around what little muscle i have,
wrapping strong around my bones,
pushing my ribs out for everyone to see.

i cannot fill my empty stomach, because it is not empty to me.
my organs are bloated,
they feel artificial inside me.
they must be an illusion; like purple gas in the shape of little girl parts, cultivating inside the envelope that is my frame...
again, wrapped tightly like a present,
tight skin, weak bones.

"i'm so sorry."

but i can fill my white empty walls,
and i have, with such beautiful artwork.

i just wanted you to know...
it was such a surprise waking up this morning,
my ribs stabbing into me,
the sun in my eyes,
and innocent japanese being eaten alive by a wave.

20

today i stood in front of the mirror, my body dripping rain.
i just stared and stared and stared,
watching droplets slide off the strands in my hair
catching them in my hand,
feeling them in my papercuts,
rubbing them into my dry, wrinkled palms.

i've been so thirsty, i realized
for beauty, that i've tried to see it in everything.
even in extremes, like a lost child's wail, a car crash, a family torn apart by war.

and now i know it doesn't work like that.
you can't look for beauty,
you have to stand terribly still and and and
don't even think about blinking!
you might just miss it.


but i need it now more than ever. something beautiful, that is.

this is my life...
i've always been thirsty, thirsty.

19: for myself

dear self, dear body,

when you're free, i'd like to spend the night with you again in seattle.
i'd take you to the fish market,
watch the young men throw a 30 pound salmon back and forth, like a ritual.
it's almost graceful,
and they'll look so at ease.

they are so used to it.

they're earning a handful of coins with each drop of sweat,
drops that we would later taste, dearest self, in our dinner, accompanied by a shiny glass of de-alcoholized champaigne.

maybe after that we can go to the beach.
do you remember that smell?
i know i do, i know i do.

and when the night is over,
the warmth of the hotel sheets will feel alive,
hugging us and biting into our skin, devouring our fatigue, swallowing our exhausion.

but unlike you, my body, leaving your obligatory finger stains,
when we wake in the morning, i will leave no trace of myself behind.

18

dear sleep,

i've missed you.

while you were gone, i forgot what the sky looked like when it was not dotted with yellow sparks.
i forgot the smell of fresh morning air
and the taste of dew
and the feeling of cold wind prying my eyelids open.

i love you and have mistreated you,
please never ever leave me again.

17

i think you're bitter, maybe.
one day i'm going to write a song for you
about all the love you hold in your limbs,

you're so beautifully tragic.

16

the only reason i'm ok with all of this
is because i never really fell too deep into you.

i don't remember the smell of your room
or even the colour of your eyes.

you didn't even make me feel that familiar emptiness in my head,
constantly begging to be filled..
(i know you know this feeling.
you must know this feeling.)

so it's ok, take it easy,
unbend and unwind like a decrescendo.

maybe it's not ok for me to say "pushing me out of your life!"
but i'll say it, because i'm interested in you
and i think we'd be good friends,
now that we're less uncomfortable.

you know that it would be great, you know it!
just lazing around all day..
i'd fill up my beer bottle with tap water over the sink,
just sitting around and listen to music,
throwing cereal into our mouths and talking into the night,
with the c.n tower spraying light all over us.

15

i can't feel my fingers and toes but,
oh darling,
what a great life i have.

14

i smelled the familiar scent of the dufferin 29 buses for the first time today,
in more than a month
and right away my memory was triggered of that time i was stuck in traffic,
2 hours late for my violin lesson
but not caring and not feeling anything except my burning fingertips;
the nerves confused from the sudden warmth away from the glamorous january wind.

i don't miss home until i get here,
i don't miss my parents until i see them,
and it's almost always the scents that bring me right back here where i belong.


i love you, parkdale.
even in my death, i'll ask for you to never change.

13: sorry that this entry sucks

it's so early, but my mind is so clear.
i have been awake for so long,
just like the world, its eyes open for centuries, overlooking mountains grow.

right now, at this moment, i feel so grateful that i exist.
the world is full of so many things: objects, souls,
so many cars to drive and papers to rip and
hearts to wreck but it's ok because it's all so pretty.

i'll find it, beauty i mean,
in a child's toothache
a drop of a single grain of sand
the sound of a lover smiling
the feeling of cement, sliding harshly against my face.

it'll be ok.
why? because i have a great weekend lined up
and the best friends in the world to spend it with.

i'm glad i met each and every one of you.

everything happens for a reason, and i'm honestly glad this was sooner than later,
but please, i hope you still invite me to play music with you.

12

i thought i'd write to steal you,
but who am i kidding?
i'm no writer, i'm no artist,
i'm only seventeen.

i'm only a girl;
i was born to be broken.

so i went downstairs and walked around the street, glasses off, stared at my white breath like a stranger.

walked and walked for half an hour,
in jogging shorts and yellow sweater.

in the streets, nobody knows my name
and nobody can see inside my chest
and nobody can see my shame.

i wish i were in seattle,
because there, the rain understands me
and understands what i mean
when i tell it to wash away everything.

11

i don't understand.
but even now, all i want to do is hold your hand,
and sit in silence...


and i'd compare the buzzing of your computer and our unassuming and gentle breaths
to the sound of that crane turning
a full 360 degrees.

and to the sound of wind pushing against my window,
in an airplane on the way to seattle.

(you make me feel like winter in seattle)

but those sounds, accompanied by the soundtrack of our lives will follow us when we sleep,
and will be engraved into our minds like a tattoo,
as we walk and walk and walk an infinite miles
to that lonely, rainy city i wish i could call home.
i'd hold your hand forever.

but what are the chances, right?
this makes me incredibly sad.

10

woke up at 11,
then again at 2.

goodbye moon
goodbye stars

i'm waking up to the rain for a change.

09

another sleepless, lonely night.

08

i drove for so long the other day, you know
in circles around and around and around in the parking lot.

a crystal castles remix booming.
children watching, fingers locked in those of a parent.

left turn, right turn
forwards, backwards.
i couldn't even breathe.


and out i went onto the street where i was camouflaged by other drivers,
onto the street where i barely existed.

a black mercedes passed me, and i remember this because
it was brand new, and one that i've always liked to look at
and exactly 2 minutes later (it felt longer), a billion cars passed me at the same time and right then i realized my insignificance and
i felt like sobbing.

07

everything was backwards today.
we sat in the same spot, drawing our hearts out.

everything backwards.

i hit my head on the table too many times tonight,
and from the taste in my mouth, maybe bit my tongue too many times tonight.
but at least around a half hour ago
i saw, in the sky, the clouds you talked about.



it's a little bit sad
and a little bit lonely
when i realize i still can't sleep alone.
"but it's ok," i know i'll say,
"at least i've got warmth".

06

one of the best feelings in the world
is the one you get when
you're standing in front of a loud speaker at 10pm
nodding your head.

the bass is turned up high, and you swear it's louder than the guitars
and you can barely hear what that guy in the red shirt is saying into his microphone.

you can feel the vibrations in your bones...it's even a little bit hard to breathe.
it's a little bit stuffy.
and your breath gets lighter and lighter with each pluck of a string
and your eyes want to bleed and you stomach turns, screaming "ican'ttakeit i can't take it"

then walking home in the cold wind
alone
with only a t-shirt on and some skinny jeans that are no longer skinny on your legs.




anyway, today i tried to find this feeling.
and when my eyes opened for the first time this morning i realized that i can't ever sleep again.

05

it's wet orange outside right now.
i take off my glasses and glance into the street.

it's hard to describe what this looks like, unless you are blessed with a natural blur in your eyes like me.

the lights are soft and fuzzy and everything morphs in with each other red blue green yellow orange oranage orange and the black buildings and they touch and swallow each other whole and then. and then, there is just one big colourful picture.

and now i put on a nice song accompanied by the sound of raindrops hitting my window.
i will shut my eyes and look for the feeling of sleep.

you know, it's so perfect right now.
i wish i could share this with you but at the same time i want it to be all mine.

04

shehara and i sat in the hallway in front of the elevator
and drew the most amazing thing anybody has ever seen.
i think we were both in a terrible mood
and were drowsy and tired but our eyes won't stay closed.

why is it that in this big city, i feel like i'm the only one awake now?
it's so quiet here.
this must be the silence embedded in novels that have lasted centuries,
the silence that keeps people calm. calm like before a storm
calm like a whale's song.
i want to feel this in my sleep.


i never want to turn the lights back on.
i want to grow old to the glow of my computer screen,
but i know the sun will beat me to that.

03

last night, or this morning rather, i finally was able to fall asleep to the sound of your music.
i imagined your hands pressing down gently on each key
black, white
black, white.

then i felt the first hint of drowsiness in my head, and that familiar heaviness on my eyes.
i knew it was coming.
it spread fast, like a disease, and soon i could feel it even in my fingertips.

with my eardrums vibrating, i had the best sleep i've had in weeks.

i could have slept more, but i was awaken by the sound of my cellphone,
followed by a feeling i'm not unfamiliar with. i rolled out of comfort, fell to the dirty and cold floor.
crawled and crawled up my chair, hoping that somehow it was you who had woken me up.

02

i've been hit with a bad case of transient insomnia.
i'm too unhappy, or too apathetic. i know those are two totally different things.

i remember now that i used to be a writer, and i was inspired by the smell of her skin, and the sound of footsteps, crunching away in the black snow on the side of a dirty road.

have you ever listened to the sound of rain hitting an umbrella? i can't get that sound out of my head.


i guess i could say now that when a heart has been broken it can never completely heal,
but



the truth is, i just don't like to sleep alone.

01

tonight i wrote a nice song, but i'll probably forget by tomorrow.
this feels like seattle.
i'm so lonely.

please, god, never let me feel this way again.

i'm so sorry that i'm tongue tied. i am just not that interesting.