Her tongue reaches out to the blade
with an artificial quiver, no hesitation, expecting
the shock of steel.
She draws the weapon, utterly useless against the barrier to her freedom,
the enemy--Hope for Someday.
Like a glow/shadow, it cannot solidify, cannot be strangled with force.
Even the best offense, heartache, leaves glimmers,
glimmers that blind the weak.
She is weak despite her resolve to
eliminate
foolishness and vulnerability.
She is damned into limbo,
beyond the safety of logic in consciousness but also
beyond the refuge of a dreamer's oblivion.
She slashes/
The light remains maddeningly persistent
She slashes/
The light remains irreconcilable with reality
She slashes/
The light remains.

11/17/11: 3 miles, 30 min
11/16/11: 2 miles, 20 min
11/2/11: 3 miles outside, 40 min
11/1/11: 2.5 miles, 25 min
10/22/11: 2 miles, 17:40 min
10/10/11: 2 miles, 17:55 min
10/6/11: 2 miles, 20 min

I can define love for myself now. Measure my love by the amount I am willing to sacrifice for you, not by how much I am willing to give you. I may like you, I may wish to help you as much as possible, but the self will prevail unless love supersedes.

daydreamsfoolfantasydefectivenowhysomedaytodowasteknowlovepoetrypaintexitsleeplosefail
runhelpmaybenuancefocusplease

daydreamsfoolfantasynowhysomedaytodowastelovepoetrypaintlosefailhelpmaybefocusplease

daydreamsfantasynowhysomedaywastelovepoetrylosefailhelpfocusplease

daydreamnosomedaywastelovefailfocusplease

daydreamnowastelovefailfocusplease

daydreamnofailfocusplease

focusplease

focus

What would my hero do if he met the friend I turned into devil? Would he see the stains from my dirty dealings and revolt at the sight? Or would he remember the face he cannot see was ravaged by my hands?

Let me explain. I would not extend a hand to do harm. Only for benefit. My benefit. Should I have retracted? Reclaimed my honor through reservation? Should disease not ravage the populations under the universal evolutionary pressure to reproduce? Behold, a virus bearing my name, unfathomably simple and virulent beyond cure. But, nature is fair and designed a limit to ambition's effects--a fuse placed as the final safeguard to blow. Knowingly self-eliminating, I can't help the carnage. I must wait for my loves' decimation, the completion of both's destruction.

Changed last minute and this,

my heart

cannot settle with my head. They swell and flux like batter that can't decide

to be cake or bread.

I have no directions, lost and lacking

exact measurements and right timing.

My perfection is gone, but the heat is turned on.

Players finger the knobs of fate, deciding for me.

I never had the recipe.

I want to tell my batter:

Don't give slack, don't look back.

Do it to get it done once possibilities are gone.

Move along, save your goodbyes, because proverbs lie,

there are no rights and wrongs--only a choice

and a lifetime to live its consequence.

Make it, commit, and even if

it's a mistake,

you just can't unbake a cake.

It's a patch of fur,
now a hand-spun cotton candy cone.
It's a favorite song,
now a memory of past lives.
Caramel and muddy trails
swirl memories of summer
into cool drinks and perspiration.
If I can still taste it
and feel its stickiness between the whorls of my fingerprints,
does that mean it's not over?
Can the shingles pass the rain back out
and return the dew to spring air?
I'm loving the color--green beyond the power of purchase
and orange beyond the beauty of rhyme.

My happiness is flaking off the picture of us.
Laws of physics jeer the poor scab clinging
to an imagined gravity keeping pain away,
and laws of nature wait for an all too familiar story to
run its course.
I have but common words for common sentiments
and hesitate between the quick rip for certainty
and the bandaged healing for dissipation.
Clear skies cloud and cliffs crumble.
A reality cries out against two martyrs' struggles
for that unspeakable mountaintop, chasm, truth, lie, force, love.
Our epic comes to a pause as the hero's heart hardens and the heroine holds her breath.
Suspended,
that happiness flake feels the rush of the descent as it clings and clings and clings to secret hope,
nothing in particular.

9/5/11: 3 miles 28.30 min
9/3/11: 3 miles 30 min

8/28/11: 2 miles 19 min
8/10/11: 1 mile outside
8/9/11: 3.25 miles treadmill 33 min
8/7/11: 3 miles treadmill 29:30 min
8/4/11: 3.5 miles running outside 32 min

7/1/11: 2 miles treadmill, 1 mile XT
7/2/11: 3 miles treadmill 29 min, 1 mile XT
7/4/11: 2 miles treadmill
7/6/11: 2 miles on treadmill 19 min, 2 miles on XT
7/10/11: 2 miles on treadmill <19 min + 1 mile
7/11/11: 3 miles on treadmill 28 min
7/15/11: 1.5+1.5 miles running, 1 XT
7/23/11: 1+2 miles running
7/25/11: 4 miles running
7/26/11: 1 mile running + 1 mile XT
7/27/11: 2 miles running
==> ran 27 miles in July

6/7/11: 2 miles on treadmill, 2 miles on XT
6/8/11: 3 miles on treadmill: 18:36 for 2 miles, 30 for 3
6/9/11: 1 mile on treadmill, 1 mile on XT
6/10/11: 2+2 miles on treadmill, 1 mile on XT
6/12/11: 10 miles on bike
6/15/11: 2 miles on treadmill, 1 mile outside
6/24/11: 1 mile on treadmill, 1 mile rowing
6/26/11: 1+1 miles on treadmill, 1 mile on XT
6/28/11: 3 miles on treadmill (29 min), 2 miles on XT
==> ran 18 miles in June

Her perversion hides
between air-thin slices of discretion
in the pores that permeate
secrets
dark
and hurt strange pains when surfaced.
A lazy disease
she calls cancer of will
some call personality.
What use are soap bubble questions of origin:
inherent defect or compliant growth?
The invisible subsurface is its home,
the same home where she protects her raw roots.
Fight its proliferation? Fight its pollution?
No, inoculate.