tales of a gutterflower

the girl who couldn't love

2013-11-30T23:06:00.001-05:00

there was once a girl, skin white like a pearl, with the color of flame in her hair
all she wanted was wings, not material things, her feet ached to tread through the air

all day in the sun, love full in her lungs, she sang about meeting a boy
who would fill up her arms, with wit and with charm, and so much unspeakable joy

so she did meet a boy, who acted so coy, before taking her hand, warm in his
he fluttered his eyes, as he took her astride, and he sang to her something like this

"girl, hair like fire, i lovingly admire, will you accept this gift of a kiss?
for i've been watching and waiting, and pointlessly dating, seeking what i've heard about bliss

i will give you the stars, i'll make the world ours, if you accept this offer i've made
together we'll grow, through highs and through lows, for the entirety of the rest of our days"

she responded in kind, claiming she had been blind, to life before meeting his gaze
so they whispered and danced, laying claim to romance, where they happily spent all their days

so came the surprise, which she met with wide eyes, when she couldn't accept his embrace
for her arms couldn't reach, despite her beseeching, all the way 'round the boy's waist

she cried and she tried, with her arms open wide, to wrap him up with her whole self
but her wingspan fell short, and so she was thwarted, left to put the idea on the shelf

the boy refused to resign, as he tried to apply, his reason to find the solution
but the answer escaped, though he tried and he scraped, and she came to a sad resolution

for the girl with red hair, with feet light as air, it was clear what she might be void of
while still full of light, and compassionate fight, it seemed that she just couldn't love

to the fullest extent, despite time that she spent, trying to figure out why
so she went off on her own, to cry and to moan, to beg and to curse at the sky

she approached the sad boy, desperate not to destroy, his straightforward, smart way of life
he listed the facts, said they could try and go back, heartache cut them both like a knife

but she went on to explain, her guilt and her pain, for the shortness of her hugging limbs
she gave him a speech, that her insufficient reach would never quite satisfy him

for the love he could give, and the life he would live, was better than her conscience could afford
when she just could've love, couldn't be worthy of, the wonderful things he out-poured

for what is a love that can't be sealed with a hug, where both parties feel unfulfilled?
where a lack of embrace, despite smiling faces, will forever make him feel bone-chilled

so the girl with short arms, with her head in the stars, left there with a heavy, dark guilt
set on starting anew, for the things that she knew, had crumbled with the life that they'd built

i will continue the tale, of the girl who did fail, at nurturing a once wonderful love
because her arms were too short, too heart-breakingly short, to even provide a warm hug

2013-01-28T01:01:00.003-05:00

i have kissed many frogs..
but never has a prince shown himself so clearly
you planted the thought like a bug in my ear
i just met you but i've known you for years
your every feature was described in a dream i once saw
your face was soft and your confidence tall

i have this vision of the gentlest cause
but the fire in our skin gives us no time for pause
lost in your flame
i've forgotten all pain
wrap myself around this feeling
the push and pull in your kiss sends me reeling
has me reaching
for stars

2013-01-12T15:15:00.001-05:00

"Just a dry gin drinker.. master and a hound"

No number of kisses on the forehead can smooth away the melancholy that furrows there.
What if I made a mistake? I'm wondering what creature fills the hole that I used to.. If lips are as soft and needing as they once were.

Whose call you're answering to

2012-12-22T03:27:00.005-05:00

i'm jetlagged, dizzy from a flight over sparkling waters
head in the clouds and the music's too loud
it all makes me wonder what really matters
i'm lettin' my hair down and swingin' my head high
stinging from the whiplash, singing from the heart clash
not wasting my time with the "how" and the "why"
enjoying the feel and enjoying the taste
the fingertips that tingle and eyes that twinkle
if you were a drink, i'd buy a case
or two

2012-12-21T04:28:00.002-05:00

i was the dancer, you were the song
hands laced together, we both sang along
then one day the melody stopped in its tracks
the trebles and trembles, they faded to black
curtain drawn darkly, ovation appealed
last kiss for the night i'll quietly steal
cheeks red with blood and lips full of ice
i said the words but we both paid the price
with flourish and fancy i stood on my toes
and wished and beseeched to be free from the throes
..from aching and hurting and painful ill will
apathy, anger, and blackness until
i find myself once again in a dream
singing a lyric with familiar themes.

2012-12-10T02:07:00.001-05:00

abstractions
hiding in my favorite stacks..
run my fingers over leather binding, taste dust, musty and worn.
feeling warm, though my energy's taxed..
run my mind over all my findings, think of us and how we're torn.
i close my eyes, within me rises sentiment
a council meeting, a parliament of heart.. rewrite the rules and the plan.
i can't blame the players.. i can't blame the man who thinks he can
i was mid-step when you turned around, you found me out
i've been the one who should've said.. i've been the one who's wondered when
perhaps i'm wrong and i've always been
dancing between shelves of history on paper, monumental, inconsequential
and i am a piece of it all
i am a piece of the wooden frame
quietly, all in the same
i am a piece.

2012-12-08T14:15:00.000-05:00

a softer world: i've found one in my favorite coffee shop, hidden in the chaos of the surrounding grey like a pearl inside a rock.. when life is heavy on my heart i always find myself in this spot, sinking into the old leather chairs to become part of the pleasantries swapped here.
there is something i find so uplifting about the goings-on of this place. i dig myself in and begin excavating, exporting, and explaining the compacted week's botherations. meanwhile people meet, people greet, and they don't even notice i am here. i am just another piece of the hearth.
a flame warms my back, and i feel myself defrosting- imagine myself dripping, all the everythings, all the pain just dripping off of me to pool at my feet and evaporate into the atmosphere. i feel human again, feel superhuman again as my wings crackle and groan as they unfold behind me.

..then a stranger sits down. his face is striking, so friendly and concerned and bursting with warmth that i can't help but laugh with the infection of it.
"that's my favorite song you're listening to.. can i buy you a coffee?"
i would love a coffee.

2012-12-07T15:54:00.003-05:00

"there's a firefly loose tonight, better catch it before it burns this place down"
music pounding, pounding.. fingers pick strings, pulling them from their rest against cherry wood. rage echoes inside my skull, my skin feels fevered and flushed.
i wish it would burn this place down.
i'm bruising, losing this war against myself. i feel like my guitar will explode beneath my palms as i beat it with fear, beat it with all the anger i've been shoving in corners.
how can i EVER be okay? my chest feels bottomless, i have never hit a repetoire this low.
"but the world looks better, through your eyes"
i'm sitting in a soaked patch of grass, feet poking out from under tree cover. i feel my body sinking into the ground, melting into the tree behind me. i'm disappearing from this scene.
will i ever be captured? be satisfied, be filled, be able to maintain any emotion between euphoria and despair..
i knew this would happen. i knew i had to tear it down to rebuild it back up again. but no one could be prepared.. how could i?
i'm trying to remember how it feels to be in love, a canoe to carry me across this molten river.

2012-03-13T10:25:00.002-04:00

again i find myself among the posies, reveling in the winter bird's song.. time is barreling towards the horizon and here i contradict it, becoming a resisting mist. my head is full of mist, anyway, as i recoil from a night of no sleep and two rude exams at the first sight of sun. oh, to be young and institutionalized!

so, readers, we pass and greet like old, old friends. i'm just around the bend, lending too much time to things of very high importance.

i'll see you next time in this field of posies. perhaps i should appear again sooner than later. in the meantime i am lacing petals in your hair, pushing you into the sun..

2011-12-12T15:12:00.000-05:00

sometimes i fear that time and tragedy have forced me to grow too quickly, for my taste at least, into an old wretch who perpetually stitches the heart-wounds of those around me, forgetting myself; one who knows that my mother can only hear so much.

2011-10-18T23:10:00.000-04:00

my many human qualities... a strangeness has befallen me in light of the plethora of them. lately i am anyone but myself- a moth captured within my own silken wings, barreling towards any source of light- only to knock my head on an empty lightbulb with the illusion of light hidden inside.

i am both the catastrophe and the cure, the predator and the lure.

and you, poor you, trembling on the wayside while i twist and dance, writhe and prance within my own mess of self. you are full of patience, though naive and impulsive, and i admire you for that. but how much longer will you wait?

a simple reflection in a window jars me. has my apprehension always been so clear? i seek truth and only truth. my whims speak lies though, and i am but an eager listener.

i wonder how apparent the monster inside of me is to the outside world. will i ever find true clarity? in my art? in love? in relationship? these are questions that burn inside of me. but only sometimes.

sometimes, yeah sometimes, i find everything i need in your tawny eyes

the last kiss

2011-04-11T08:16:00.003-04:00

the last kiss.. the grand finale, the conclusion of a beautiful era, far too short and much too long. who knows if the narrator will bring us back to this chapter, so filled with adulation and elation- crimson with the rosy cheeks of two creatures in love.. him and i. nonetheless i find myself hesitant to turn the page, even though i placed the punctuation at the end of our sentence.

back to our lips, parted with irreverent desperation and fervor, softly pleading for the moment to transform into eternity.. begging the world outside to remain unmoving and sympathetic to the incredible event occurring on the mouth of each of us: the last kiss.
"is it wrong to ask for this kiss for the road?"
a tear travels the creases of his face to hang off the edge of his beautiful chin, threatening to drop but hesitant to change, as his palm finds my chin to softly lift it to his.

i don't know how to feel. wretchedly omnipotent- cringing and weeping for the blood on my own four hands. two hands for me, two hands for the filthy imposter who initiated this movement. the rain picks up, loud and protesting on the window pane, as the victim's chest rises and falls beneath the covers of my bed. he sleeps in a peace born from resignation; the same resignation that drew water to the edge of my eyes as he spoke words that were so perfect and beautiful they must've been practiced.. yet i know they were not.

he beckons, and i curl up on his chest. something bigger than myself is taking place here. moisture pools in the sweet curves of his collarbone, and i imagine myself kissing away each teardrop left there with a tenderness i cannot muster. with my head to his heart, i feel so full of the sharpest pain, and the sweetest hope.

"oh, my darling honeybee, no longer stuck where he doesn't want to be"...

2011-02-22T22:27:00.000-05:00

as intently as i try, i don't think i will ever understand human nature, nor will i even approach such a lofty revelation. hatred is unrelenting and pettiness prevails. the young will under-appreciate youth and the old will spend rare and golden days wishing for it once again. the birds will continue to migrate just as the sun will come up. the child will always view a playmate's toy with envy, just as the ex-girlfriend disdains the "shinier toy" of her former playmate. just as i will always try and solve the puzzle that is all of these questions combined.. so goes the way of life.

as if in spite of these ineffable and static things, i have found beauty in the flux and whim of a pianist. the world is changing and mystical beneath the song of each of his keys, pressed softly but distinctly by the same fingers that run through my hair before bed each night.. the fingers of the hands whose palms, warm and inviting, frame my face as though i am a painting to be marveled at. this bubbling feeling inside of my chest is new. perhaps not solely the excitement of new romantic potential, but also a reassurance that i made the right decision by letting go the former love.

my head is a mess, and his music plays softly in the background.

2011-02-09T22:33:00.000-05:00

welcome to catatonia.. oh, how it's aged while i was away- but my name is still on door above the welcome mat, and my mudprints are still on the threshold. i throw out the red carpet before my feet, and i shuffle along with my arms wrapped around my vulnerable body. there are creatures dwelling in this part of my mind that i still never dreamed existed, running rampant with horrible faces and worse intentions. i am indifferent yet.
i wish that i was bulletproof.
it's astounding how quickly the birds in the trees fall silent, how readily the color is sucked from the pavement, and how easily the blood retreats from my cheeks with a simple change of perception- a mild adaptation of condition. "the books" might call it mild, but it has changed the world for me. even my favorite flavors aren't the same. my footfall is heavier, the arch in my back more pronounced as my eyes sink to trace the lines between the asphalt underfoot instead of exploring the faces of passersby with ambition. i find myself couching meekly into my favorite big sweaters during the day.. being absorbed by the memories i've made wearing them, submitting to the vacillations that live in every crease that have been planted there by a delicate tear or two.. disappearing from the sight of the day's cold grimace, boring straight into my conscience.

"it wears me out"
did you leave your love in your summer skin?
god, this wears me out

2011-02-08T20:51:00.000-05:00

so this is what it's like.. to have the warmest hand withdrawn from yours. to have the sparkle removed from the only eyes you want to look into.. to have little to look forward to and little to reflect on-

pass me a beer

2011-02-07T01:55:00.001-05:00

i dreamt that i removed myself from your scheme of things.. and i recovered swiftly, then woke up from the dream to find myself calloused against your charm.

......what does that mean?

2011-02-05T15:16:00.000-05:00

"you broke another mirror, you're turning into something you are not"

here i am again, curled up with my questions.. why do i always fall for the stoic? i never asked for my mysticism to be matched. i just simply want to be looked in the eye. its taken some time, but i think i have finally convinced myself that i'm more than a commodity, to be picked up from the store when you're "going in that direction anyway". at the least i want to be gift, something to be earned, something to be deserved and worked towards. in light of this, i'm picking myself up off the ground- not to be placed on a pedestal, but to become eye level: a force to be reckoned with.

one day i will find my beautiful wordsmith, a counterpart to the light i have growing inside of me- one who desires my company and looks forward to the volley of insights, perhaps by starlight. whether i find him by a change of perception, an evolution of what is now: maybe i'll find him in his purest existence.. but he's out there waiting for me, with soft lips and eyes full of rhinestones.

/signing off

"drying up in conversation, you will be the one who cannot talk"

2011-02-04T11:22:00.000-05:00

one foot in front of the other..

my qualms are quieted, and my wiles are sharper than ever.. my body travels across campus, carried on the lightest air of the crispest morning. my core is filled with warmth, intractable against the bone-chill that draws the breath of students like smoke in the air. there's something in my step, something in the way my foot hits the ground, that concretizes today's whim. perhaps it is the capricious way in which my weight shifts toe-to-heel, heel-to-toe, or the way that pebbles scatter from underfoot like debris from an explosion.

i've got my favorite songs playing in both ears, background music to the florid nostalgia that keeps my more frivolous thoughts company. my insides twist with the rise and fall of the chorus, and suddenly i feel as if my feet are lifting off the ground. sunlight crawls up my arms, fills my chest, and comes to rest on my uncreased forehead. every nerve ending is alive with the new day, creating an electricity that puts the birds in the trees above me into song.

i search the faces of passersby for some hint of rapport, and i find it brewing like a well-kept secret in the smooth brow and the smiling mouth of a handsome boy dressed in a handsome coat. the momentary spark between us is mischievous, nurtured in the facetious grin that paints both of our faces as we peer up from under eyelashes at the other.

i'm back from my soul vacation

2011-01-28T00:44:00.000-05:00

"only the moon, only the moon, only the moon will hear my plea"

many introspections later.. i find myself tapping away here in this same spot. it is a warm corner, where i've come to embrace my most unbeautiful (and therefore beautiful) thoughts. i never mention my physical self during these posts, so i suppose i'll diverge: i like to lose my physicalities in an old favorite worn out and oversized sweater on nights like these, to make blurry the preoccupational vanities i usually indulge in. it is only then that i find myself able to connect with the deeper levels of my humanity: when i'm withdrawn from it only to reflect. is that too lofty?

*clears throat*

regardless.. i'm feeling exceptionally human tonight. the breeze from a window behind me plays up and down the parts of my back that are bare, and it feels sharper than usual. my nerve endings are alive like they haven't been. just as unusually active are my thoughts. i've been visiting with my oldest friend, Insecurity. we can be found, a detracting pair, hidden in the shades of a bitter night.. talking about a betterment that should be occurring, old loves, and what i had for lunch. i know this fellow isn't the best company to keep, but the old dog slithers back into my life just when i'm weariest. and what can i say about it? i'm weak for familiarity.. and sometimes i feel most real when i'm being picked apart.

what kind of cycle is this?

"only the creatures of the night will harmonize with me"

2011-01-24T13:58:00.000-05:00

"is this the end?"

i'm sitting at the union here at school, fireside with Zee Avi in my ears and the sweetness of chai on my palate. today i find myself on the drearier end of things, though i still harbor the pertinacious flame of creativity. this flame, when i count myself lucky, thrives on days like these. it's almost as though it ignites fervently in rebellion against the state of the world, frigid and gray, beyond the window pane i sit beneath. it acts to spite, to beset the coldness that tries to creep into my bones. it arouses to soothsay, to mollify the weariness that creases my brow.

by the light of this flame i find myself soaking in a lucid awareness. it feels as if i awoke in more ways than one this morning. not only did i wake up to a warm, beautiful body beside me- but i woke up acutely aware of my own warm and beautiful body. some feeling of delight enchanted my skin as i uncurled each limb, stretched each muscle. darkness was nowhere to be found today. instead, amity followed me around, warmed me in the light kiss of my boy, sang in my ear with the voice of another, and even peeked at me from this cup of tea.

today will be good. today is good.

"why does it feel like we've only just begun.."

2011-01-23T18:42:00.000-05:00

My head is full of flowers.. and the garden needs sorting out. It's funny- the role I play. Sometimes I'm the gardener, bent over my vibrant oasis with the fervor of a mother over her child. I prune and trim, careful not to cleave any of the blossoms. On different occasions, I am the honey bee that travels on the whims of the wind, fertilizing the ideas that root within each blossom. On yet other occasions, I am some unseen force residing in the sky, rendered useless to affect the happenings before me.

The meadow is home all the same..

a new beginning

2009-06-01T14:41:00.000-04:00

so this begins a new journey.. welcome to the innermost workings of my thoughts, i hope you will find what you are looking for :] i will update this as often as possible, which will hopefully provide more insight to those seeking it in between youtube videos.

thanks for reading, be back soon.
love, kels