honest bio

X lives with her husband and two kids in a house that is bit bigger than their needs, which they share with their cat and the creatures he hasn’t yet managed to kill. X has a job she likes and does well enough to be appreciated without making a fuss.
X has done lot of different and some unexpected things but never long enough or well enough to be exceptional at any of them, and has thus not been bestowed any awards or distnctions, though she has applied and coped decently with numerous rejections.
She avoids conflict as it usually leaves her in a dimished position, so she swallows back globs of anger and frustration, and bile sometimes rises to make her jokes and smiles too bitter to be liked by most people.
She laughs loud and sings softly under her breath, and her most significant and intense experiences have been mostly in her head. Lately she has been battling the loss of expectation and desire but still fondles hope like a smooth pebble in her pocket before it too is lost. X is extraordinarily ordinary and worth little mention but a bio is customary and as she is usually just bypassed when she tries to stand purposefully apart, she acquiesced this time.

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silence

Silence erases gestures
Fades gazes to a blur
Muffling expression
before it can find words

Silence shoves intentions
To the bottom of the bin
Under stillborn efforts
Aborted from within

Silence blights the ego
With doubt infested sores
Draining all the wonder
From what came before

Silence denies hunger
And despair’s just desserts
Left dangling like dead leaves
Uselessly inert

Silence dispels illusions
That once fueled desires
Heaping flesh and bones
Into a listless pile

Silence rakes up memories
Scarifying the ground
Making sure no spot
To take root can be found

Silence cancels well laid plans
Evading clever tricks
To draw out confessions
And bring some sense to this

Silence removes all targets
Keeping armies at bay
Long enough for walls to rise
Repelling ifs and mays

Thus silence begs one more attack
Though it be doomed to fail
A final act to put an end
To a pointless play

But silence ablates the will
It hollows out the core
Leaving desolation
Where temptation thrived before

So shatter silence with a scream
And raze history to the ground
Rage and riot till your heart’s content
Just do not go without a sound

grieving with words

pour them all out
heat them to a roiling boil
even if they sputter and burn
then let them stew
scoop the detritus and flotsam
from the surface
and let simmer some more
skim the fat, the excess
and turn the heat down low
as they thicken
their colour will change
their odour will rise
and meet your hunger
only then add the spices
to bring out their flavour
then let them sit with time
they will harden into crystals
and finally forms you can handle and shape and give names to
name them over and over again
repeat their names
until they lose their sense
beat them and mistreat them
until falling to pieces
they finally explete something
worth more than all that was lost

perhaps

I have no cause to promote
just a tendency to provoke
thought and invoke lesser gods
in passing judgement
Mother I suspect
there’s no direct way to detect
the worth of just deserts
or the merit of ferreting truth
from rotted roots
clinging to history
like it could thwart extinction
or help make a distinction
between treasure and trash
and measures too rash
to consider
Between what we’ve outgrown
and what we have sown
to convince us
our instinct
to raise our fists
and pound the ground
just may be founded
on circumstance
and we’d be better off dancing madly under a lone star

kind of

perhaps my vanity explains
why I won’t refrain
from acts that I disdain
partaking just to say
yes, I’m alive today

drawing quirky pictures
painting pointed words
padding expectations
framing the absurd
to make you smile
to make you wince
to try some new way
to only convince you
yes, I’m alive today

oh how I spend my days
all these things I do and say
just to keep the grey at bay
and remember that though
all my colours fade
Hey! I am alive today

a lesson on colour

all the lectures
in the world
on light
and waves
and chemicals
and cones
couldn’t teach me
about colour
like painting
at dusk

degrees of magnitude

You say when you think of me
it’s with nostalgia
a surreptitious smile
spreads across your flushing face

When I think of you
frustration, despair, shame and desire
fuse into a howl of longing
I grimace and cringe

with teeth clenched
waiting for each wave of pain
to finish pounding me
into the dirt by degrees

this stage

I stare at this stage
as if I can summon you
with the blink of the cursor
entice you
with the blankness of the page
to let you dance

without lines
or rules
yet you recede
just at the thought

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