ickydolly-blog-blog

[ickydolly-blog-blog]

enough

Sometimes,

I can't shut up

And my mouth opens

I speak too much.

I cover the silence

With an awkward pause

That never lasts long

Since the words come

Steadily,

And I wonder if

You notice,

Thinking, "She's annoying,"

I fortune tell the facts

Like a crystal ball,

I see and than swallow

With the knowledge of

How uncomfortable I am in this skin.

Letting the quiet be still

Would mean I let confidence win

But I have none.

So, I use this silly tongue,

Tripping over these thoughts and my own body.

Since I don't know if

I am who I am is enough.

[ickydolly-blog-blog]

beauty

How can I be beautiful?

Without emerald eyes or midnight-colored hair?

That shines like stars,

No diamonds, in a sea of pitch-black silk.

How can I become so lovely?

I have no golden tress or flesh so soft and fair,

Against the sunlight,

Pure and radiant,

Rose-petal lips that part when sighing.

Lashes long,

The sky vying,

For one piece of jewel-toned blue.

As I do for one spec of you.

To have just a tiny part --

Even miniscule

So that I may be beautiful.

[ickydolly-blog-blog]

[ickydolly-blog-blog]

[ickydolly-blog-blog]

thoughts

The pulse of life

Felt from the side of my neck

What fingertips across my skin

Causes such a stirring in my heart?

I don’t know you very well but

My mind, just as my lips,

Wonder if

They’d settle against yours

Quite nicely,

And within silence

Hear the music of

Two beating hearts

Like you in my thoughts,

But when I wake it's only me again.

Still, I think about him.

[ickydolly-blog-blog]

Normal

I don't know what normal is,

Or if I'll ever be.

Normalcy is overrated, understated, often mandated.

But no one can tell what it is,

Who it is,

Or how it may be

Applied to one or two or none

Or more than half across land & sea

We point, we wish, we covet

Those with lives grander than our own

But what normal is or isn't is such

Being comfortable in our flesh and bones.

[ickydolly-blog-blog]

to speak

"I will miss you so much so that it will hurt me,"

"But not kill you?"

"No, it shall only..."

"So, you will survive?"

"I'll manage,"

"Truly?"

"I know no other way."

[ickydolly-blog-blog]

Anchors & Magnets

Wouldn't it be lovely if time could just stand still?

Just for a moment, never changing,

Any one or thing.

And today could be the anchor,

That keeps us in wait

Because tomorrow only pulls us

Like a magnet

To forever, always,

[ickydolly-blog-blog]

the dark

Sometimes the darkness can be a comforting place where solace comes from silence and isolation but sometimes the darkness can be terrifying. Where all else falls away and there is nothing. You are nothing. The world is nothing.

I think about the darkness from time to time, how it often can swallow me whole. Inside its mouth I feel confined, safe, and like no one can reach me. Here I am invisible within the black depths of a body I cannot touch. I move freely but mostly stay curled up in a ball.

The darkness never asks or comes to find me; its just there. I don’t have to speak or cry or answer any questions. I can just be. The darkness is my friend or so I think.

As my hand full of pills, goes up to kiss my lips, my open mouth, takes each one till my hand is empty. I get up. I close my eyes. I see the darkness.

And there is nothing. I am nothing. The world is no more.

[ickydolly-blog-blog]

Meet ED

Last night Binge sat at the dinner table, next to Restrict and Purging. Starvation came late, asking for the time.

“Take as much as you like,” Restrict told Purging and Binge as Binge slovenly began to stuff its face. Every carb, every sweet, every fat dangling off all the meats, Binge ate and ate and ate. Purging leaned back in its chair-watching Binge, mouth full and gaping, spilling out bits of food whilst Starvation stared blankly.

“How revolting,” Starvation spoke, “I cannot be among pigs,” and with that Starvation left leaving nothing. Binge never phased still kept on with its stuffing, now huffing for breaths of air while in mid-chew. Purging started to fidget at the sheer gluttony of Binge before speaking,

“You can but I can’t,” Purging said fleeing, from out of the room one could hear Purge regurgitating. Down the hall Purging's sounds echoed of gut lifting, pushing against lungs, throat expanding, lips cracked, dinner mixed grotesquely on the tongue; the taste, the smell, petrifying the moment. Still, Binge kept on, snorting, moving from empty plate to overstuffed.

Restrict took everything in, picking at its wheat roll, nibbled on vegetables, and than shoved the plate further away.

“I’m full,” Restrict said, exiting, while Binge all alone, continued on.

This is what happens when we believe we are what we eat or we are never complete. What do you think?

Who are we?

[ickydolly-blog-blog]

Disconnection

I don't think I will ever have the approval I want from those I wish to have it from. It's difficult to say, 'Good Morning' and only hear: "Hello". Its politeness, the common consideration of how one responds to another that prohibits her to respond back with a greeting. I take whatever I can get but still I notice how she lights up for someone else that isn't me.

I don't know how to put it without sounding like a selfish child, overly spoiled by her mother's attention or lack there of. Yet, when she asks how they are, she seems genuinely concerned, and so happy for them. Maybe, I am just too sensitive that I cannot relate to the human condition of choosing whom you enjoy to be with and whom you tolerate or rather who one finds a connection with and who you do not.

Sometimes I tire of trying but I do not give up; that pleasing factor is always there inside me because I want to be accepted by her. I cannot stress enough that WANT which now compels me to CAPS LOCK. I want it more than anything, a part of me always yearning for their warmth and respect but compassion isn't as easy as people believe. It takes time, patience, and if you're lucky enough you'll be fortunate to have it but instead I compensate by being overly-bearing with kindness. So much so, I feel drained like my heart cannot beat any longer, the strain is too much and the cold begins to settle in my ribcage.

Constantly, I consider changing myself to fit whatever it is she is looking for. Should I be less sweet and become cynically bitter? Should I be sarcastic and witty rather then shy and reserved? Would it be better if I read magazines rather than books? Or perhaps, made up stories of how my weekends were full of wild and unpredictable adventures. Should I tell her I'm taken even though I am single? Should I let her know the adoration I have for her? I think I love her but maybe I do not. I think I'd love to be like her but maybe I do not. I keep this all secret.

I think like this daily and I wonder why it is I need this person so much in my life even when we are strangers and know nothing about each other. I look at her, wishing to be one tiny, granular of what she wants, and to have her in return look back at me beaming but I doubt that will ever happen. I am always stuck in disconnect, desiring more than one strong connection.

It's hard when the line is always cut, always dead even harder when the person can't ever, will never, be what they want but the fantasy is there as the realest illusion and I hunger for it half in-circuit, half not.

[ickydolly-blog-blog]

[ickydolly-blog-blog]

de(story)

Holding up the sun,

So, the world won't come undone.

"Destroy what destroys you."

They say.

But I can't let go.

Because there's a story in de(story)

Like there's a no in k(no)w

And as you're crashing and f(all)ing.

All else is turning another page,

Starting a new chapter.

To destroy only erases the story

Of a god, a legend, or the one thereafter.

As you know or perhaps

You don't.

[ickydolly-blog-blog]

[ickydolly-blog-blog]

[ickydolly-blog-blog]

Names you know

You can love yourself,

Or hate what others love.

You can sabotage, inflict pain, or dissociate

But it won't stop those

That care for you

Who understand.

Love is not kind,

Love is not patient,

It can be envious,

It can wrong you

But love such as this

Is not what one wants.

Love is not the Corinthian,

It is the soul,

Who purely loves what we cannot

And recognizes us,

No matter how much we push away.

Love is the arms that open,

Love is the comfort and strength

That holds all our pieces when we lose them.

Love is the one who fills in the blank

Love is your name ______________.

[ickydolly-blog-blog]

the best

7 in the morning; she hopped onto my bed. I was up but half out of it, still in the fog between waking and dreaming. She asked or so it seemed, a million questions, discussing small children and music.

I rolled onto my side as my shirt came above my stomach. “I see you.” She said and we laughed while I pulled down my t-shirt.

It’s easy, it’s comfortable, and there are no walls or barriers. I lay myself bare and I wonder if she sees who I am and if she likes what she sees.

At that moment the two of us grew silent and she got up and left.  I thought about going back to sleep or actually getting up but instead I reached over grabbing my headphones.

Slowly, the soft sound of humming came into my ears, a beautiful chord hit and voice sweeter, lighter than air began to sing:

“I think you bring out the best.”