Thursday, December 13, 2012

another year older

you knew me, some
time forever ago,
with black hair and a
bleeding heart; you
loved me then
for the colors i shared,
the deep reds and blues
I so artfully let
wash over me, let settle.
you knew me when
i didn't want to know
myself, when
i didn't want to know
my layers, too stubborn
to let the walls be broken.
but you broke them.
and i hated you for it,
i still kind of hate you for it.
i wanted that shell, that
protection against people
you. but
too late, now...
i found someone like you,
just like the song says.
and i don't care that
i've been broken or
infiltrated or
even smashed to bits,
because it's the kind of love
you couldn't give.
so i'll take my pearls and
my weathered leather
jacket and be on
my way, again, through
my swinging doors, not
and smile to the sunset
that all this
was worth it.


Tuesday, November 13, 2012

the bolt

the bus yesterday was crowded, full to the brim. and it was a monday... i guess no one wanted to pay the two grand for a ticket to see madonna at MSG. i was happy to leave, like most of the people on the bus, to go home to my own bed and my own cat and my man; not to say that i was happy to leave my friends, the promise of free studio space, or the fact that anywhere i wanted to go i could walk or take the metro.

movement is a funny thing. it's the only thing in my life i know i'm really, solidly good at. and i have been in such a constant state of motion since graduating from high school, shit, since before that... that i am in no means saying this is not a nice, slow transition into a different, welcomed life.

new york city for a weekend - nicely does it. i should have moved there fresh out of college. i would have had the energy and will to do everything and anything that i heaped on my plate. but at 27, 28... i just couldn't hack it. the movement was killing me, and so i am therefore happy i am out.

things will pick up to a pace i enjoy and can handle in my old age eventually. for right now, the bus back into the city will do.


Friday, November 2, 2012


i mean, really?

the irony is killing me.


Thursday, November 1, 2012

carve it out

and in two months, the world was flipped and things are different, now.
things are different in a good and solid way, taking quite a few steps back to get to exactly the position i was in a little while ago but with more experience and a longer resume.
the world is so ironic. to go forward alot of times, we must move back and allow ourselves to be... pummeled.
and become a child again.
it works this way in ballet, as well, like cleaning the dust out of a clock so that the gears move swift and slippery against one another, so that it can tell time again. breaks for the bones and joints in ballet is much the same, although i can say a clocks muscles rarely weaken in the absence of movement.
but then again, a clocks muscles are made of metals that are solid and unfibrous.
it makes sense for it not to be weakened.
but the clock will continue it's time telling, as i will continue my dancing, and my growing, and shaping a future i never even knew existed but love more and more every day.
what an interesting life i lead.


Saturday, September 8, 2012

and now i hate flowers

when i was sixteen, i was cast as the lilac fairy in my ballet school's production of the sleeping beauty. the only other role that was more important was the actual sleeping beauty, so all in all i had done pretty well for myself, and considering that at sixteen and still a virgin it was basically the most epic thing that had happened to me thus far.
i lived, breathed, and slept the fucking lilac fairy for five months. i watched videos of famous ballerinas who had danced the role. i meticulously planned my stage makeup specifically for the role, spending hours in the bathroom every night after getting home from class and rehearsal (even though i was kind of failing my math class but, priorities, priorities, right?). i practiced my bows in my bedroom mirror, envisioning the bob carr theatre in downtown orlando equivalent to that of the met, people graciously throwing long-stemmed roses onto the stage while screaming BRAVO, BRAVO and ENCORE for my thirteen curtain calls.
i was the lilac fucking fairy.
so it was at this show, this one time where i knew the planets had aligned and i had withstood bleeding toes and tendinitis and chronic hip problems... this one time i had the storybook all to myself, in the lights and the fog and the glitter and the tutus, all to me. this was me, this was my story of perseverance and dedication and grit. me, drowned in the bright lights that soaked into my eyes and lifted me out of my skin. this. was. me.
and at intermission, my father came backstage with flowers and little gifts and cards and told me that his back was hurting and my little brother was getting fussy and they were going to leave because i had already danced half of the show and that was about it, right?
i smiled.
i hugged him.
i watched him walk out the backstage door.
and i ran to my dressing room, threw myself on the couch, and wept.
i was so shocked, so unbelievably shocked that they weren't staying til the end. that they wouldn't just stick around and see me through. i was shocked and confused and hurt...
but i was mostly just sad.

you can't make people stick around until the end of the show, and moreover, who would want that? all the flowers in the world would never make up for the lack of interest in my passion... and so i had to let it go and concede that some things in this life are not worth that kind of pain. where you have to make people love you and the life you love. i wouldn't want to hold people against their free will just so i feel better, more secure about their love for me. someone else will come along and feel that for me free of charge, just because they do.

which is exactly what happened. thank you to the one who has stayed til the end, with a bottle of perfume in his hand, and genuine excitement in his heart for my dedication and perseverance. i love you for so many things, but this being one of the most dear.

we. always.


Tuesday, September 4, 2012

ocean's exhibit

i went to sea world this one time and was in this clear tunnel, see through to sharks swimming (flying, whichever one) overhead and all i could look at was the guy's shirt in front of me, me sitting there pretty in my mother's arms, legs wrapped around her waist.
all i wanted to do was touch it. it was white and mesh and it looked stretchy like crabtraps under the water, i wanted to put my tiny fingertips in between the mesh and pull, pull til there was no space between me and the space between his skin and the shirt, til wewerethisclose and my hand was beyond my ear, and see what it did - see if the shirt would snap from my hands or collapse under the water and the sharks and the imagination of it all...
but my mom slapped my hand away right before it made it there, and i was just a foolish four-year old, in pigtails, thinking the pattern on his skin was the coolest corner of the room i had seen thus far. and in the back of my head, golden curls and all, i knew, i KNEW i wouldn't have known what to do with that fishnet had i the chance to touch it.
application, application.


Wednesday, June 27, 2012


snapshots taken
and, damn
i wish i was there
i wish
i was part of the picture,
because eventhough
i know
she's married, and you,
about to be,
i still wish
it was me.


Friday, June 22, 2012

somebody i used to know

well that certainly is news, isn't it? i guess things have been going well. i mean, evidently.

my best regards.


Thursday, June 14, 2012


it's amazing what time can do, isn't it? babies are born, funerals to attend, keys get lost, and friends grow old before our eyes... angry lovers past become happy with new skin, tattoos multiply, and family moves away. it's all very exciting, and all very sad.

i guess there's really nothing that can be done about the distribution about life, except to be happy for those who've moved on (whichever fashion they have seen fit to do so) and wish them the best as they tackle the challenges presented.

good luck, all of you. i hope you wish me the same.


Thursday, May 24, 2012

GLAD girl

i feel like you can
right through me, my
lies don't stretch as
far as my legs can. and
then i think, well, if
i'm as sheer as pantyhose
(not the ones you buy
at duane reade, the
ones that estate sales purge
for $.50) then what the fuck?
where do i go
from being a pretty girl
who has nice words?
what will you think
of me when you
the ugly?
it's 7 am and
i'm still catching my breath, still
clinging to the clock.
i wish you were here, but
i'm glad you are not.
oh, me, the one with
dreams like moon-tides and
a glass wall so thick...
i'll give this up
soon enough.


Tuesday, May 15, 2012


i wonder what it was like to know you forever ago, before all the cracks started to happen and the unhappiness set into your bones like stale jell-o, before you decided to be so so cool and talk about all things macabre; back when you had normal hair and a blank body. i think to myself, hey, i guess everyone has their own way of validating themselves but i know in the bottom of my ribcage it's all a lie, you're all a lie... it's been too long since we've talked but in a thousand ways not long enough because i know all the terrible things you did to me and then after thinking them you blamed me for not being able to let go even though, that too is a lie, because how can you let go of something that was never even there to begin with, even i know that all you were was an image of who i wanted you to be and you let me think that because again, you thought it was cooler than what you could ever be. i have questions like, have you ever heard that song and couldn't help thinking of me for hours afterwards even though you hate that song now and you hate me even more for being the umbrella in THAT cocktail... but not too many questions because even though it's been hard it hasn't been impossible to regain the little dignity i had when you washed me down the drain, just like that.

now what i like to do is write pretty words about a boy i never really knew, because at least i know something came out of it that people can read and ask themselves why we have to go through bad hallways to get to really nice rooms, why the sky has been grey for two days but the sun's all like, move over bitches, i'm going to show you why you love days that i dominate. maybe someone will be helped and it makes all of everything that you never were to me, better.

my future has never been brighter, and i can't thank you enough for the bullshit you fed me. what an ironic gift.


Tuesday, April 24, 2012


wicked wind, and
little spikes of ice
hitting my face... out
there on broadway and
flushing, under
trains and sirens hurting
the space between my ears.
it was talk, talk, talktalktalk
and, "walk this way" and
"call this doctor" and
geez, so many hallways
with padded footsteps and
squeaks of rubber.
and i held your hands
and told you, no,
you're not blue-paper-gown crazy,
as you cried and cried and cried.
but i still left alone, and
you still are alone, up
there in the third ward
of the fifth floor.
it reminds me we all need
to be fixed, somehow, and
in a way, the safest places
can also be the scariest.


Thursday, April 19, 2012


i wish i had
a pen at all times.
then i could ink
the city on my books;
my love, my
whiskey and wine
oh, my,
you sing to me
when you don't speak, you
make love to
when you don't move...
i could never ask
for more.
and if
you think i have,
i'm lying,


Tuesday, March 20, 2012

vagina to spite me

so maybe it's come to this. fuck all my friends, fill up that hole, make girls cry on the side of the streets until they have no more dignity to live. wrap it up, throw it out, rinse, repeat. oh well, i guess that's how these games go, right?

what really sucks is that i felt like shit for the way i treated you, i really did. i realized i put out popcorn strings when i was lonely and i needed someone to make me laugh. but i can't be sorry, cause i found out that you were doing the exact. same. thing.

lies beget lies begets sadness begets sadness.

hope you recognize the failure of your words vs. your actions.


Friday, March 16, 2012

cab to the bridge

little boxes
in all their white glory, under
stars and shine,
those lights look so big
from the williamsburg bridge
the glory of these
little fireflies
oh, the tired of
their eyes, they
give me the minutes that
the hours that
make the days
that make my life.


Thursday, March 15, 2012

wish you were here

i'm such a jackass.

i'm sitting here, listening to my roommate blowdrying her hair and singing along to her stupid country music, looking up quotes to describe the hole in my heart.

ironic. some girls wait their entire lives to get engaged and be with the one they love forever (or until the divorce settles, in many cases). i have been perfectly fine without being engaged, until i met someone who blew every other person i have ever been around out of the fucking water. now i am engaged, but i now have to wait just to see him, like three days out of the month. and so it is... leave it to me to find someone perfect but never have them close enough to savor the taste.

i write alot about the stupidity of love and the quest for this seemingly untouchable person. well. i found him...

i just can't be next to him. and it's killing me and my stupid heart.


Monday, February 27, 2012

carbon copy

she looks just like
all the others, pretty
much... she only looks
a little like me.
we are all a
california red table blend,
easy to drink, to
savor, to finish off
before a quick bj
in the back before going
back to your doesn't exist job.
we give you
a nice buzz, a
sweet ache at the wake,
only just enough
for you to become
what you are

she does look
like the rest, though,
don't you agree?
do they look like her?
lucky, lucky, lucky.

Monday, February 13, 2012


i can't
i can't help it, my
heels over head, my
oh my
i look forward to
cinderella nights and
nietzsche days, all mossed
up with glass and
reality, both entwined
in legs and booze. you
who i love, and
you, who loves me...
let this be
this sunset on the 'rise...
the brilliant pink
do yet we see.
the sun, it sets, on


Saturday, January 28, 2012


here's to an endless
black hole, three
cheers for a morphine death
slide your way
through eternity and back,
i'm sure,
smile down (or up
or sideways or something)
on me, okay
smile down and remind
me of the quiet ways
you showed your love,
outstanding man, you
fly that jet plane
fly mach
fly for days, into
the sun and beyond.


Thursday, January 26, 2012

elegy, interrupted

and so it ends.

another chapter, the next great adventure, kicking the bucket... whatever you may call it, death is looming over our heads, all the time.

ahem. hold on, that was a little too melodramatic for 10 o'clock in the morning.

my grandfather passed away yesterday around 4:10 pm, next to his wife of almost 60 years, his only daughter, and his son-in-law. they said goodbye, they turned on the drip, and within an hour he was gone. just like that... one hour of morphine. imagine.

knowing that when that little needle begins feeding your veins minuscule droplets of clear, viscous death-liquor, you will drift quietly out of yourself; knowing that you have five minutes of savoring the final visual delights of these people you have loved and created and created lives for before you will never, ever see them again, but wanting it to be over because your organs are rejecting life so vigorously those visions are blurred by torture, sifted with white patchy pain stars from a four year battle with cancer; trying to gather the shifty images of the family that couldn't be there to say goodbye, the ones you wanted to shield from the ugliness and embarrassment of a strung-out and increasingly agonizing death.

and to let go... the beauty of absconding, of getting the fuck out of that cancer-baiting vessel. jesus.

the man hadn't had solid food in over a year, and little he had before that over the last four years he has vomited back up. he could barely walk in general, and even the 15 feet to the couch in the living room was exhausting to the point he would have to nap. and what for? to get up and go back into his bedroom again to change out morphine patches??

i called mom when i got out of work yesterday, and i knew when she answered the phone crying. we've been waiting. all of the family has been waiting to pick up the phone to the standard "crises crying" phone call, waiting and waiting and waiting and then when it finally happens it's like


and the people on the street slow down almost to frozen and the sun starts setting behind you and your heart drops an inch-and-a-half in your ribcage, and you want to reach through the phone to make your mother stop crying, to tell her how sorry you are that she just lost her father, the man she learned strength and goodness and quiet dignity from... ugh.

i sat down on a bench. hugged her through the receiver on my ear. searched for words to say to her that would give her some sort of strength, some glimmer of hope, some iota of comfort. but all that came out was "it's going to be okay". an oscar-worthy choice, if i do say. a real gem.

but - it's going to be okay. it all has to be okay, because death happens all the time, all around us. it seems a large majority to happen to somebody else. it's just that... to somebody else, we ARE somebody else, so there's that.

i want to love the minutes i live more... cause when that fuckin morphine drip gets you, it gets you. tip the cup to my grandfather, Thomas Raysor Risher; to your loving, dedicated family; to your allegiance to the united states and for the courage you deployed as a fighter pilot in the USAF; to everyone's life you made better just by being alive yourself...

we all love you and wish you the best on this next great adventure.


Monday, January 16, 2012


but i promised.
no mention.
a friend, though?
ugh. i did so good.
til tonight.


Thursday, January 12, 2012

12 hours

these are the things no body says... i love you and i miss you and i can't wait til you're next to me. cause other than that, what do you have?


Thursday, January 5, 2012

and another thing...

all people can't be as brilliantly open as you, i guess... and when i say "open" i'm saying it completely sarcastically because there's no way in hell that you could possibly lecture me on being "open" and "honest" and anything else you didn't fall in love with me for; now you're angry and i'm sick of explaining it to you - and while we're on the subject who fucking says i have to tell you anything in person? i've told you like 85,000 times in person and YOU STILL DIDN'T GET IT so i figured a phone call would be just as effective, even though at the end of it you said "this is the worst possible thing you could do to me" and i was thinking, no it isn't. i could do much much worse, like i could have cheated on you or told you things like, hey, as a 28 year-old woman, the first gift you give to me probably shouldn't be a shot glass and a tourist t-shirt you easily could have re-gifted to a friend you hadn't see since college or your grandmother or someone you don't see every fucking day; or i could tell you things like, the honesty sure passed your tongue by when the topic of "love" or "goals" or "abortions" came up. no, it was all good on that front, wasn't it? but then i'm the asshole for trying to let you down gently and caving to "talk to you face-to-face" even though we had already had the same conversation three or four times before that but we insisted we could be friends but we couldn't and for some reason, i'm the one to blame.

someone call walter FUCKING cronkite... i can't accept full responsibility for the demise of our relationship because it just wouldn't be true; and even though i'm sorry i hurt you, guess what? take it away, mohandas gandhi... "nobody can hurt me without my permission."

i wish you never gave me permission.