Don't Touch This II

(I'm Ready) trying to get back into the swing of things - trying to push myself over the edge of a cliff, to fall back into an uncomfortably familiar rhythm - trying to be ready, now. ready to? to feel again, and not just pretend to. to write, and to mean it. to grasp control, and push it to its very limits without losing it, without spiraling. trying to stare at myself as a language I can learn, and then to learn it, and then to know myself, and then to reformulate what has been lost around this core of known.

(Windows) trying to stop being just a phone call far away - to be more, to not be myself only for you or for her or feeling sorry for myself. it is good to grow girl, and you will always remember yours. one thing you can say for yourself: you will always remember. remember yours, mine, ours, his, and always with a bite. stop feeling sorry for myself, I'll try, I'll fail and I'll try again, but always try again.

(Die Trying) speaking of remembering - there are things which hurt, which dig their nails in and drag me in over my head - tired of hurting - and please don't die trying. I will not accept this thing being out of my control - I will keep trying, and I will not die trying. we are all trying to get to the other side, we are all tired of hurting, we were all drowning in blue, but I will breathe color into myself until I resurface - stop holding my breath. sometimes

(Come Down) trying to be better is so much less beautiful than hurting - everybody wants something more. being back up again, ridding myself of the tendency to be a reflection. getting up and taking a look around. growing new skin over raw patches, starting new pages with a promise of breath, opening up and not only on a page and not so quickly but not so partially and not only at night and with fewer apologies - many fewer apologies.

(It's All in Vain) and sometimes taking a break when it hurts too much, and not being too hard on myself for it. and looking up when it hits.

(It's Strange) and embracing smiles, heads rolling back and not faking the rush. my own rules, my own plan - even with you thrown in the mix, because you won't jam up the works. I did carve a little space and wait for you - it feels nice. going falling again, but this time it's different, this time there is consideration and intent and control, and I will name the feeling but not without thought, without being sure. taking the time to be sure, sure I want to go over the edge, to cross this boundary, to fall and land on my feet with you instead of on my back, alone.

(Fineshrine) a little closer each day, closer to you and even closer to me. grabbing fistfuls of thunder and spinning them in my hands and swallowing them whole, a stone down my windpipe to blossom in my lungs and to remind me I am not silent - I am not ink on a page or a cry stifled, swallowed, absorbed - sinking into the edges round you but whole and not disintegrated - integrated, but complete and my own.

(Passenger) this is a hard one to make new. but not everything can be made new, can be transformed or reimagined. some reminders can be only that. white with a square of color, and warm rain in the dark, too warm for a January night, too full of water and smoke, eyes brimming too high to see through. feeling small, lost and empty, but one good heart is still plenty - my one good heart is plenty, and yours is lucky.

(Deadwater) being stronger, no more "if"s - if I could is not enough, we might is not enough, I can and we will and I will it. shaky but not on my knees, not left in pieces - I am the better things for me. not waiting too long, embracing the thoughts that come in and staying out of the water and believing. leaving for a reason, but only the right one. holding tightly but only to a point, because I will not be dragged past my breaking point this time - I am the better things for me.

(We Come Running) and I am not saying the past is all bad because my heart still races and I am headed for the open door, and you will hear the sound. racing through the streets at sunrise, our limbs irrevocably tangled and indistinguishable, because one night could tie our heartstrings to each other, and it did, and that dawn echoes through me. remember, always remember.

(Never Be Like You) a good pausing point, to run a little.

(push pull) enjoying moments without pulling, pushing them to be perfect - telling yourself no. letting go, only of what needs to be let go. climb up in me. grow slow. taking it. breaking habits which haven't been physical in months but never stop sounding. not pushing or pulling - but letting the old and new flow without force. growing slow.

(Arcadia) and oh how things have changed, but I will know the change - straying from who it was that they knew into who it is that you know, that I know. sometimes things don't come full circle, but a broken circle is better than coming right back - couldn't get back even if we wanted to. erasing the old paths, breaking the old roadblocks of resistance, not floating into the sky but not chained to the ground - flowing and walking and moving and growing in motion - we can only grow in motion.

(Technicolour Beat) take another beat. feeling safe in this light, jumping into this heat. a waking dream. warm, un-alone. settling down in my own bones, wrapped in your arms in the heavens set on fire. walking on water. moving in color, to the beat.

(Let's Get Lost) breaking it down, but not breaking me. not lost this time - not in you, not in me. memories as outdated maps - we are not lost, we are making our way. creating. tomorrow does exist, and yesterday and today, and we are moving through time and we are not stagnant, not lost. can't wait till tomorrow, but we will, and we will revel in it, in waiting, in today. nothing is endless, least of all summer, and there is no never.

(heartsigh) this one always first. whisper, whimper. won't forget to close my eyes, but won't forget to open them again, too. where does your heart sigh, and where is it silent. only, only, lonely. hit the morning. no more weeping glimmers in the dark. wear the sky, don't walk on it but drape it around your shoulders, warm wrapped in the sky. hidden breath, never beneath the floor. not anymore. whisper your heart's sigh, not silent now. the end of silence.

(bodyache) and this one always second, trilling through my body. turn the lights down. lying awake but not aching, not crying to ache. I have sweat and bled but I am not alone in her depths. light dancing on the ripples of dark water is my quietest feeling, eyes wide, lying awake.

(Amenamy - Jon Hopkins Remix) freer and freer and freer and. always and, never ending, rolling on, rippling on. cold memories roll to warm hands, warm under hands, expelling cold and memories and scars and rivers and being alone. plugging cold holes with warmth and eyes and a garden where I grow instead of freezing. warm hands smooth skin, calm ripples, quiet the old quiet. each ripple on my skin mirroring the water, but I am not a reflection, not of the river, not of myself, and not of the sky.

(Weight in Gold) back in orbit, not out of control but not weighted down. gravity doesn't hurt, not even knowing the truth. the truth in orbit, not drifting, and I am not a martyr. pushed farther but not taking the blame. not being dragged down.

(Soap) words as water, but not the kind you can drown in. being careful but knowing it will not spill because the truth is in orbit and I am not drowning. being careful but not tiptoeing, not around you. under my own skin - the truth will not be too much, not for me. lying awake does not mean it is time to lie - there is no time to lie. rejoicing in the truth, and never washing my mouth out.