i need you to know. bracing against wind through slats in the blinds the smell of clean laundry. this is my dream. oddly.
thoughts of cross-examination and the aching, sad freedom scare me like nothing known before
more more than one backwards several backwards steps to years i'm frightened, truly
i'm getting ahead of myself racing towards a clouded "THIS" as i so often do
12 year old mixtapes remind me of how much i haven't changed - i still hear melodies i still cry the same way
screaming to my mother, tears all those years ago nothing has changed, except i scream to myself, mostly, now feeling the unrequited requited
phil collins, to shai, to obscure new wave i thought the same way then, as i do now only more more
fuck MORE! the insensitve word that taunts and haunts urging me: don't talk, don't dream, don't eat "you do not qualify for the simple and sensual pleasure of life, little girl"
12 years since the mixtape flashing before my eyes i am still that 17 year old driving for hours, but never straying more than 10 miles from home
i sang, deep and rich, in 1996 "i can't make you love me, if you don't..." and now it echoes on the mixtape made 3 years prior to that song
it's funny how today, those instances that drove me to near-suicide made me laugh in the company of coworkers who enjoy my "humorous" stories
i know; i need to write a book maybe, somehow, that will purge the demons from my stomach, brain, and heart and i'll be TRULY ready...
...for what will never come.
and i'll sing the songs of 1993 all over again, because while so MUCH has changed, i am still that strange, chubby girl singing everything i've ever wanted
for audiences who would never understand the depth
and tonight, for myself in tune with this cassette