too much to know what to do with

dust, everywhere
on these relics
of me, some
myriad of identity
all in boxes, all
in vain.
toothy grins and
best angles and
artsy shots...
all shoved in shoe boxes
to return at
a later date.
i'm boxing the past
with fist and masking tape,
shedding a skin
created in the dark, a
shell, a shield.
dust all around
like ash,
like snow,
and i'm done here,
done biding my time
in the scene, in the show.



packing, packing, packing. if you are feeling like you have nothing in this world to call your own, and you have nothing to show and no money or no friends...

pack up your place. whether it be a room or and apartment or a house... you have more shit than you think you do, and you are luckier than most people to have it. unless you don't want it, like me. i wish i could take what little i thought i had. but there is no room in a suitcase for a giant collection of fans, a plethora of 200 books, and the assorted housewares and picture frames that i have condensed down to three boxes.

my wardrobe - gone, down to what i can pack and some coats for my parents winter house in north carolina. my kitchenware, furniture, and miscellaneous i can't take - salvation army. there is change all around... i even took out my lip ring. i want to know if i shed this life that i've created once again, except this time, for real... i want to know if i can do the things i've always wanted to do. and i don't even know what they are yet, or where i'm going to find them. but they have to be somewhere, right?

i've always had a sneaking suspicion that i'm not that good at dancing. that maybe it has been, up until this year, a love-child of circumstance and devotion. well, i want to know. i want to know if i have changed enough over the past year to support how i will work in the future. i guess i'll see over time, but for now...

now i must pack what life i had into stale cardboard boxes. all the smiles, all the comfort, and all the stability of all this stuff... it needs to go away and let me see if i can do it on my own. it's hard, because i love all of it. but better now than thirty with a kid on the way to getting a divorce, right?

right.

k.