How Magic Goes

The first day since I have been here that I felt seemingly incapable of stopping.
It's almost 2 am and I can't feel anything.


I wouldn't feel the sun if it was warm upon my face.
I wouldn't see the moon
if it eclipsed for me  in lace.
I wouldn't hear the voice of singing angels in
a chorus.
I wouldn't know our fortune
if a psychic read palms for us.
I cannot feel the winter, or the autumn or the spring.
I cannot see the thunder.
I cannot feel most anything.
I don't know if it's better if I go or stay this way.
But this moment I'm the fallen
To  addiction
I was prey.
Come sun I'll try to fix it.
Come sun I'll try to rise.
With newfound rested thoughts
and painted lips,
and dewy eyes.
But tonight I lurk in shadow.
Hidden under mickey's nose
We are the slaves under the magic.
But that is just how magic goes.

Wandering

"All learning has an emotional base."
                                 -Plato
I feel very restless today.
Like a wind up clock without hands.
Like a time frame with no event.

I'm a lost planner of sorts, having fully engaged in
embracing negativity for certain notions that I once held to be valid and true.

I feel strange and yet,
oddly aware.

I don't know how to be the "to-do"
list anymore .

But I miss even that.

At least then I had a definition.


-Lys

Transience

Among other things, this past week has been run over by a number of strange circumstances. I didn't want my word of the day to be what is in the forefront of my mind right now, but it feels like something that I  must unwillingly admit to, if only because I have chosen this adjective as the singular and most ironic constant in my  life. 

Transient. 

I don't know why the font of it was green. 

The word just  was. 

Transient= an inability to remain steady. 

An inability to remain still. 

I have desired transience in many aspects of my life.

Namely within my personal relationships. 

I never thought it was out of fear ,but rather, out of an understanding that tying myself to a  tree stump over and over again would eventually lend itself to a 

dull pair of scissors. 

And something that I've tied myself to voluntarily would become my

 ineffectual existence. 

As a part of something living, yes. 

But not as a part of something moving. 

It's almost a desire to remain in movement with water. 

I cannot be like Earth. 

In this way, I can ebb and flow in whatever direction life takes me. .....

And then I read the physical definition of transient..

:: Decaying with time.

Can transience actually be displayed as a function of something 

rotting?

The very thing that has lifted me to the height of disconnected flight is the 

same thing that has the ability to decay away any 

welcome mats

I may have placed in random places 

when I've cut the string too many times

from what I thought were

dying tree stumps. 

Maybe, without knowing it, 

it is I who never followed a path  long enough 

to decode the encrypted enigma within it.

Maybe, in actuality, we are chained by our drive for perfection.

Perhaps the decaying tree doesn't have grounded roots. 

Perhaps it is grounded in my transient nature;

spindly tentacles wrapped around my pulsing, 

warm-winded heart. 

What starts as life, as green comes to an end in this, 

that my flight, my pressure filled storm, 

has been fighting against an enemy 

that I've long considered my friend. 

Can you give something enough water to bring it back to life, 

when the summer has has already begun 

Internal Autumn?

Oh, how  beautiful , how colorful

the leaves change in the fall. 

Before the cold of winter frosts 

dark death 

over us all .

-Lys

Broken Stringed Words

I sat with my lukewarm
  Cinnamon Sugar
Enhanced coffee
 in
           its
              Sunflower
 Cup
                     This morning.
 The cookies were only mixed together.
 We are alive but one second of the
 Earth's time.
 Bound by impermance, but also freed by it.
 In this actualization there is internal vigor :
created by tragic inevitablility of our
 shadowed journey.
 Where we all will go.
at the end of all of this.

Everything that's anything. (clipped to polyvore.com)

Lizards

We Lizards run across the street

As we do walk in morning heat

before the humid sun has fallen 

we become its prey.

In lace and magic do I walk 

among the others, in their smocks

of patterns like the countries 

Of diminished , cultured pride. 

Walk alongside 

the beauty of vacation city

 travel in our painted, pretty

 Characters and laughs, the witty

 Of  Walt’s hidden sand. 

I know that it's here somewhere.

But we all are stuck on land. 

Like lizards all across the street. 

We scatter when we hear the feet

of those who up above could give 

 A 

Step and 

Crunch !

Our fire dims

And turned

Off is our light

To  shadow- dreams. 

Bereft, it seems, with that 

I give. 

I struggle to decide to live

in dischord with my passion

As passioned magic breeds disdain. 

My vocal chords 

They said enough. 

And now they are but silent, 

Tough, and glued together 

in the rough, the muttled lost of all of us 

The Silent Voices of 

the labor of

Your Dream Come True. 

We live in you. 

We give to you

 A lasting, hopeful piece of us 

With  smiles and 

With  pixie dust

and when the dusk 

finds solace in 

Our Tourist- Trap

Demand, 

 Oh, Scramble do the lot of us 

as lizards do 

To crowded, hot

And empty, gated

 placid homes

We try to press "renew."

It isn't through,

It isn’t just .

We’re now

Defective in our lust

 for Stars

Cuz we once had enough.

Belief and faith in wishing.

We give to you 

what once was ours

That magic. 

Oh, cut one more scar

and maybe, if you wish real hard

We’ll bleed for you some magic car.

We only need 

A little bit.

 Of what we gave.

 delighted bliss.

A wish perhaps

If blown a kiss

Our wounds would heal 

If with that wish 

Return the dreams 

We started with. 

Like lizards,

Stuck inside a ditch.

We hardly dare to move an inch.

Don’t challenge it.

Keep whole the lie.

We aren't seen. 

Until we die. 

It has been a long time. Way too long.

I haven't written in ages. About much of anything. Sure, there have been basic here and there journal entries, but essentially, my mind has been a  blank, wandering canvas of..what? I'm not even entirely certain.
Update on my life?
I don't really know how to do it, considering I haven't been consistently updating and I also don't have a camera or a camera phone anymore.
But it's okay!
I am bound and determined that this week is going to be different.
I am determined to write my life down every day. I need to chronicle this portion of my experience with Disney.
Eventually, I will make it through the muck of details that I have seemingly forgotten.
Until then, I at least have a Rough Draft.
I need to sleep.
Someone force me to ...
because a cranky fairy godmother..
equals an unhappy princess.

In love and pixie dust,
lys