I was going through some boxes today and found an old note book. I flipped through it and found a couple things of interest. One was a poem and the other, something resembling a diary entry.


July 17 2003

"I now know what a tormented angel looks like. She has bloodshot eyes and her lashes stick together in little clumps. The color of her eyes is turqouise, a bluish green, but dull and lifeless. The only shine in those eyes is that of unshed tears. The tear tracks are plain to see. If not for wiping them away, there would no doubt be salt crust on her skin as well. Her nose is red and raw from frequently wiping it with tissues and her lips, instead of the customary light pink, are now rose red and swollen. All in all this angel looks very pathetic and small.
Why oh why do I bring this upon myself? I can't write anymore. I need sleep. Anything to make the ache go away."

I remember the night I wrote this. I do not think I have felt such emotional pain before.

The poem on the other hand is somewhat amusing. I wrote this using "Magnetic Poetry" on my aunt's fridge in South Dakota. I am unsure of the inspiration but I think it had something to do with a distinct low blood sugar level, an encroaching headache and the weather being roughly 90 F every day for the week we were there.

"Diamond metaphors
shimmer on a landscape
of death
My pain consumes me
in the bitter
dream of what will be"

Deep, no? Heh, NO!