The Fate of Bad Decisions

Stumbling down an empty hallway and breathing heavier with each step. What is there to do? I could collapse and let the weight of it all bury me. That would be easier.
Taking the simple path feels right. I can close my eyes and ignore the chaos and destruction. What struggle is there anyway? I made my bed, I lay in it and dwell on problems
as if they were thrown to me and not my own creation. In the center of the chasm of jagged cliffs and slippery falls, I stand unwavering because the chasm is of my own design.
I choose not to climb up the sides that can be navigated and I choose to beat myself up against the rocks. So much I have chosen and accepted. I cannot open the door at the end.
I know what is on the other side and it frightens me more than I have the words to describe.


And in the Corner...

And in the corner
where the shadows cut lines
into bleached walls
and hide tiny secrets and flaws
I stand
clinging to the shaded area
wishing to be unseen
unheard of
there are too many things
I want to say but cant
Thoughts get tucked away
in the creases of the corner
where they are safe to breathe
Leave the safety net
and nothing is sacred
or warm
I regret the chill in the air
this place leaves no room
for the light
While the shadows hide so much
they expose even more
downcast eyes
unable to face the room


A Crutch...

A crutch
holding up the broken leg
blotches of glue
keeping together the peices
shattered by time
riddled with interruption and happenstance
Nothing is as it should be
and everything is chaos
broken
No...
chipped
bruised
imperfect
in so many ways
too many to place
or mention
thoughts are stifling at best
and the rest is static.

Poetry

I am slowly going to upload my poetry here from my other journals to consolidate them, this means we may have some very old and unpolished stuff going up but I want it all in one place.

Thanks
Shonda

First Two Poems

Bum With a Blanket

Leopard throw
Matted with lice and fleas
Dirt and grime
Your face contorts
As the wind blows against it
Hair that is matted
Shoes of a seventeen year old
Only one hole
Could last for months
In this life
A few more quarters
One from the woman
In the patent leather shoes
With heels
Higher than hopes
More expensive than
A month
That one looks angry
Faced with despair
On a nice night
How dare…


As She Sleeps

A limp body
Pale flesh draped across
Folds of dark fabric
Littered with strands
Like artificial auburn
No electricity
No force pulling
Sheer exhaustion
Against the canvas
Fingers and toes
Dead to the touch
Reminiscent of winter frosts
Shallow breath
Labored in faux rest
Tormented as if she were
The lost banshee
Of some time forgotten place
Glittering with supernatural dews
And foreboding fogs
Yet she sleeps
Scant signs of distress
Throughout
Warm hands brush along the wax
As it hardens

Poetry

Now I will start adding the poetry

Education and Escapes

My educational process is overwhelming at times. It is not that I procrastinate on some large level, it is just I am busy with work and life as well and school at times can be overbearing.
It is hard to remember that I want to do other things and take some time for myself. I feel so selfish when I stop doing school work to do something I may enjoy.
I am tired, a bit worn out, and hoping that I get a break soon.

I need sleep I guess, I am overwhelmingly tired.

Stress

I am a ball of stress from time to time. With the pressure of school and attempting to complete college with a good GPA and a reputable name is hard enough but I also have a job and a husband and some sort of tiny social life that I attempt to keep up with...btw that pesky disease that drives me bonkers.
Right now I have a ton of papers to write, extra papers to write on top of that and my brain is hurting. I am reading more books on Stuart politics than I would ever think imaginable and I have more to do before I go to bed and wake up at 6 am so I can go work at a thankless job with no merit and no advancement beyond people being treated like shit...not the company I started working for so long ago, I used to love my job.

Late Nights

I spend most of my nights studying until the early hours of the morning when nothing is awake in the house, in the neighborhood really. I sit in my darkened living room and push my way through book after book detailing the lives and experiences of those long dead and forgotten by most. I know that not everyone enjoys reading about dead people...their lives...their governments...their revolutions, but to me the past is a shaded window into the present, and usually the problems therein.
I am exhausted, a long week that will end with a longer one dealing with work and stress and work. Oh if I were independently wealthy.
Anyway, I have a book to read on the Stuart Monarchy before bed.

Construction

So as I muse as to what this blog will entail fully, I have added some blogs and hopefully spruced up some things. I may begin posting poetry here as I am really done with the livejournal format.

I am having a complete child moment. When Adam and I lived the hellhole that was the house in Byron I had two American Girl dolls. They were pretty little dolls, I had recieved as freebies from my time as an illustrious bookstore manager and sadly when we were moving, they got left behind and either the new owners took the dolls or trashed them.
I found out today that American Girl retired one of my dolls, Samantha who was a historical doll from the victorian era...argg I loved that doll.
I cant get one now, damnit.

Back

I have returned from the windy city with perspective and joy that i'm back in my own house with my own things surrounded by the familiar. I loved the city of Chicago and laughed quietly during a moment on the ride back from the Atlanta Airport. A man was with us who used to live in Chicago and said what most people do to people who were enamoured with a city after one visit...
"Its great to visit, I hated living there..."
I wonder if that would be the same for me because I will admit, I was enthralled by the vast variety of things to do, the quaint little restaurants on each corner, the giant buildings towering over me with age and wisdom beat into the stone and the vast creation that was Lake Michigan.
I wonder if I would hate it, the noise, the business, the museums, the culture...
I wonder if I would miss this if everything I loved about here was implanted in a place like that.
I dont think so.

Chicago Thoughts

I sit in Chicago on this Valentine's Day with the sounds of the L train fading in and out at regular intervals while I type. There is a film of snow if that on the ground...well on the lower roof of a building that is nestled snugly between two towers one in wnich I am staying, the other directly across and easy to see. I see the film on the small graveled roof and marvel at it, I dont really know snow...a few glimpses perhaps over the years, but I am not close to it, I don't understand it and even though the small bit of snow barely coveres the stones on the dirty urban roof, there is a natural beauty to it that meshes a world of trees and vegetation to this world of steel and concrete I am surrounded by at the moment.
I am in a bed, my hotel room...probably laying in later than I should shooting Ims to my husband as we are not together on this created day for lovers and while I may find the entire holiday alltogether silly, I still ache a bit because he is not here, I still wish I were beside him to at least make snide comments about the holiday of wasted too big ballons and ugly stuffed animals.