Friday, June 5, 2009

Cad Ina Thaobh?

ma gach aon rud is ceart go leor, cad ina thaobh am mise socair mar sin eaglach?

mise raibh bheith sinte, mise raibh ceil rud ar bith.

mise duirt sibhse an firinne.

se nil soineanta!

mo misneach is go foill greasail moran cadranta, moran sciobtha.

mise misneach mothaigh tinn.

mise misneach nach chaith na codail.

cad ina thaobh?

mise ca dada contrailte.

tu misneach gra me.

muidne beidh bi ceart go leor- tu duirt mar sin thu fein. tu geall.

se nil soineata!

cad ina thaobh?

cad ina thaobh am me misneach gortaithe?

cad ina thaobh feasta me misneach riachtanais dti faigh bas?

mise ort tuig...

cad ina thaobh mise lig ar cios si imigh?

E Seo Beidh Bi An Deireadh

mise riachtanais go basaigh inniu.
nios mo na mise orm sna se mhi.
mise riachtanais lamh a chur i do bhas fein.
mise riachtanais dti dean cuisleoireacht ar.
mise riachtanas dti.
mise nil suas ag tigh e seo.
mise riacthanas go criochnaigh se.
cuir mallacht ar si, cuir mallacht ar si, cuir mallacht ar si!
mise fuathaigh me fein...
mise nil mair ag tigh me fein.
cad ina thaobh nil mise iompair se iomlan muin?
lig ar cios muidne geit de an tosach.
lig ar cios muidne pog agus ullmhaigh iad seo.
lig ar cios se bi den chineal ceanna se bhi ar tosach...
le do thoil?
maith do mise?
maith do mise na lig ar cios tabhair...
dearmad mise, ah gra.
sibhse beidh bi seanmhar se bealach.
ta me chomh mor sin i ngra leat...
do cheannsa i gconai

Whole No More

fragments of some greater failure
pieces of my world, scattered and lost
fallen leaves on a hurricane wind
memories and moments gone
forgotten
thought i had it, for a minute
thought i got it right
i cannot stand alone
i cannot pull it together
not this time
i am no puzzle-
the shards never fit together right
so please don't try to fix me
i am whole no more

Thursday, May 21, 2009

TWLOHA


Monday, May 11, 2009

Shhhhhh

so... i quit modeling because i feel ugly and fat and shit.

and NOW you want to have this conversation??? really???

good call...

this is pretty much the last thing i want to talk about at the moment...

will you please just stop?

Sunday, May 10, 2009

Whisper On The Wind- by AnnaInez (with Deanna)

.L.O.V.E.

Why does night seem so much darker when you're away from the one you love? Why is the wind colder? Why are the hours longer and the days grayer? Every minute feels like an age without him now. And every goodbye feels like the last, ripping out your heart and filling your eyes with tears that burn and sting... Why do stars hide from view without his arms around you? Why does your body ache without his touch?

Love isn't like bleeding or drowning or any of the things I usually write about. And it's not the fairytale some make it out to be. The French and the ancient Celts had it right from the start- love is a torture that is worth every second, a trial that is, in essence, the reason to breathe. It hurts sometimes. It doesn't always work out the way you want. But is there a nobler goal than to love, wholly and completely, without any reservations? Is there a greater cause? Mankind can never fully comprehend the all-consuming, all-enrapturing soul of these words; a woman in love is rarely comprehensible. But most can relate to some degree.

When you see them, your heart skips, your breath catches, and your mind begins to move much quicker than your tongue. When they touch you, a sort of electricity surges through your veins, pulses with your heart, and shimmers in your eyes... These are the basics- Attraction. Chemistry.

But love... To love someone is to know, understand, and accept that person for who and what they are. You must have their best interests at your very core, maing them a vital part of every decision you make. You must want to help them better themselves- support them as they fly, not tether them down. You must be willing to compromise with them, and sometimes make sacrifices for them. Let it never be said that I encourage losing yourself completely for a lover. But truly, if you could take a bullet for them, would you?

Love is not honeymoons and butterflies all the time. Love is making a cup of tea at 3 a.m. when he's sick, and maybe skipping your football game one Sunday to spend the day with her. Love is not forgetting yourself; it's just putting the other first from time to time.