colours

you were that child

beneath and between

flickering screen.

You cried, while they watched

the pain, the colours

penetrate between the spaces

you knew were yours.

Colours. You hated.

Colours. You see. In him. In me.

Tainted and throbbing, like the space left in between.

You were that child,

plucking shards from your knee

from the glass we once shared

from the glass he broke

we bled, we bleed.

together

but it's him I hold,

him, with fists full.

Him, who watched, who delighted

in the unspeakable colours

as they escaped you, like a death spirit

you breathed in black and white

to escape without the hurt

In you my own heart breaks,

in you my own colours

press too deep.

Without you, I am myself,

that child,

beneath and beyond

that flickering screen.

lies my mom told me

1. that Charles (Michael Landon), the Dad off of "Little House on the Prairie", died from a drug overdose.
   
2. that hamsters have no teeth


3. that six year olds who let their mommys curl their bangs are COOL


4. that Markie Mark from the New Kids on the Block, leaped from roof-top to roof-top, lighting them on fire


5. that intense fist pumping is expected at ALL concerts


6. that button-fly jeans never go out of style

When a Feeler, forgets to take the Pill

I'm a natural feeler and I forgot to take "the pill" for 3 days. (which terribly and exponentially intensifies my crazy feelings) This is what happened: I cried a lot over weird things.

I cried Sad tears:

-when i was trying to explain to andrew that if he ate after 10pm, his organs wouldn't be able to rest and rejuvenate themselves properly (i felt sad for them) -when i listened to "Puff the Magic Dragon". (the lyrics "one grey night it happened, jackie paper, came no more, and Puff that magic dragon, ceased his fearless roar", gets me every time)

- in the line-up at the bank

- when i couldn't get the smell of buckwheat out of my kitchen

- while reading a book about pigs

- when the application process for college only took me 10 minutes (instead of a week like Grad school did)

- when andrew questioned my vegan soy butter

- when someone i love told me they were thinking about moving to the Suburbs

- because i couldn't pay rent with the Harvey's gift-cards i got for Christmas

- when i saw the words "shannon cardiff" printed on a schedule

- because my armpit hair was less impressive then man-husbands

- when andrew threatened to eat a can of chick-peas, I'd been saving to make hummus (there was a few f-bombs on my part...)

Happy Tears:

- on the side-walk, after receiving my first pay cheque
- while reading a book about the Digestive System (it's just so, so magical)
- while watching Joe Cocker perform at Woodstock, on a library-rented documentary
- while looking at babycats on kijiji
- during Oprah (i cry whenever she does...its CRAZY)
- when the dog on Martha Speaks, lost her ability to speak, but then gained it back again
- while trying to describe my favorite tea

forbidden love

My Barbies fornicated with ninja turtle action figures... all the time.

(poor,poor Ken)

happy cervix

I drank a Pabst Beer, after my first Pap Smear, to commemorate.

The English minor in me, thought the phonetics of it was funny.

step

Being "grown-up", sometimes feels a lot like being a dancing bear.

teacup

tiny white tea cups. in a kitchen that is not my own. matching saucers and a clock. ten minutes left. in this room, space, company i can not let myself forget. you are there. with every second dying, there is a silence left for mourning. he will come. i will go. and again you will be further than time. but here, now, we sit. staring at white. eight minutes. nine years surface. flow in and through the time on the wall. the story of us is six minutes long. sip. tea, not words. our mouths fill, and we swallow. pain. words unspoken spiral down throats, and into tummys where they lived before dawn. four minutes. i consider hiding under your table. but dont. i rarely do what i consider. instead i quietly caress the warmth of my cup. you look through the blinded window. we pretend. we pretend we're more powerful than the three minutes that threaten to steal us. i sip. you sip. the rest of the world doesn't exist. not now. only you. only this kitchen. this tiny white cup. this panic. this time i crave to stop. Two minutes and I stare at my naked wrist, thankful i have no watch. time torments and your eyes look sad. i memorize them anyway. i wonder if my own give it away. so i look deep into my teacup. nothing tricks you. and even in the silence you hear me perfectly. because we share air. that no one else can breathe. One minute left- there is only breath. but even that, feels painful. Every second taunts. I drink, even though my cup is empty. At ten seconds the world unthaws--begins to feel real again. it's time. 1 second left, we hug goodbye. Every single organ in my body feels like its been broken into a zillion little pieces but i smile anyway, to tell you it'll be ok.