Discomfort in three parts

I am a sickly mess.

I need someone to put their arms around me

and say it will be alright.

I feel sad and uncertain.

I need someone to let me lay my head in their lap

and stroke my hair until I fall asleep.

I am tired and afraid.

I need someone to be there for me when I’m

knee deep in all these needs.

But you never notice.

You don’t care

that I’m worn out and scared.

You have left me alone

to deal with these problems all on my own.

And most days I don’t mind.

Most days I am just fine.

But tonight I want to curl up in a ball

and cry till I’ve cried all

the tears that I hold inside,

forgetting my pride.

You know I’ve never been good

at letting it out like a normal person should.

I tend to keep pushing and keep on going

till I’ve been driven crazy and I’m overflowing

with all of the bad things and all of the sad things that life throws at me

when I walk, when I sleep, when I move, when I breath.

And I can’t figure out why or how anyone expects

me to carry on calmly when I’m clearly so vexed

by the world and its wicked ways

by the way that I’ve been wasting my days

and by the thoughts I’ve been thinking

and how low I’ve been sinking

and how I try never to let anyone down.

A little burning missile

penetrated the membrane,

and I feel it slide down my cheek.

It’s followed closely by a barrage

of its brothers.

Will I ever find the comfort I seek?



I’m so tired.  I’m all by myself.

I just want understanding from someone else.

So I write bad poetry to make everything alright,

when I can’t sleep at night.

I have hate here, and I have rage

and I have finished another page.

I want to close my eyes but

my eyes won’t go shut.

Because I long for something good

To come and heal me if it could.

I know that, at least some days,

I’m relatively faultless in my ways,

that someone patient could love me

that I could make him happy

and he would need me like I need him.

Take me to the water

Take me to the water

walk with me in the waves.

The sound of lapping water

is something that I crave.

Take me to the water,

Walk with me along the shore.

Let’s just speak of good times,

the gulls, and nothing more.

Take me to the water

where I can feel ok.

Lead me to a sturdy boat

that I can sail away.

Watch me on on the water.

Wave to me from the beach.

Until I see only liquid

as far as the eye can reach.

Walk in the sand back to your car

Drive away as fast as you dare

And if you think of me again

Think of sailing and the wind in my hair.

Think of a tanned face in a sturdy boat,

Traveling the world is how you should think of me.

Never to know I’ve jumped overboard

and am only old bones at the bottom of the sea.

Only clean white bones

flesh eaten by the fishes.

It doesn’t matter about the truth.

Truth is something for which no one wishes.

Lyric Project: Kathleen

Here’s my newest Lyric Project post.

Don’t forget to scroll to the bottom for the link to hear the song.

I was introduced to Josh Ritter by a nice lady I met on the good old interwebs.  It took me a while to warm up to him.  I don’t know why, because he has some really good lyrics.  I find that with Josh Ritter, I tend to really like or really dislike his songs…no grey areas for him and me.

I like the song that follows for two reasons: a) because what girl wouldn’t like to have someone say the first lines to/about her, and b) because I can sympathize with the narrator of the song: knowing you’re not the person someone would choose if they had another option.  I can’t decide if this is a sad song or not…for some reason, I want to feel hopeful for the guy.

You’ll have to decide for yourself.


by Josh Ritter

All the other girls here are stars;

you are the northern lights.

They try to shine in through your curtain,

You’re too close and too bright.

They try and they try but everything that they do

is the ghost of a trace of a pale imitation of you.

I’ll be the one to drive you back home Kathleen

This party was made with the night air

and the chance that a smile

Will wind its way from your face to one of the boys in your line.

Well you act like you’re hip to there tricks and you’re strong

but a virgin Wurlitzer heart never once had a song.

I’ll be the one to drive you back home Kathleen.

And I’ll have you back by break of day.

I’m going your way anyway

and if you’d like to come along,

I’ll be yours for a song.

I know you are waiting and I know that it is not for me.

But I’m here and I’m ready and I saved you the passenger seat.

And I won’t be your last dance just your last good night.

Every heart is a package tangled up in knots someone else tied.

I’ll be the one to drive you back home Kathleen

So crawl up your trellis and quietly back into your room.

And I’ll coast down the length of your drive by the light of the moon.

The next time we meet some new kind of hello-

both our hearts have a secret only the both of us know

about the night that I drove you back home Kathleen.

(Listen to the song here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bm3lWq4s5-U )

The trailing rose

The trailing rose grew wild and forlorn.

It was a beautiful thing,

even when left to its own devises.

It grew up the side of the porch

with its crimson blossoms facing outward,

reaching to the sun.

It keeps growing,

being as tall, almost, as the roof

and as wide, almost, as the porch that supports it.

It has grown from nothing at all,

merely a stick, as I recall.

It was just a stick with three barely green leaves

when I planted it.

I had thought it to be dead or dying,

so I put it in the ground,

watered it only once,

and harshly left it alone.

I thought I should not fuss over it,

nor get myself attached,

as it would rot to the ground soon enough

and my labor would be wasted.

Yet day after day it lived on,

survived the winter uncovered,

survived my neglect

and even thrived

leaning against the porch rails

of my tattered house on the top of the hill.

It blooms from spring till early fall,

changes to red with new growth

and sleeps through the winter.

Each new year, it springs back to life,

offering buds to its god, the sun.

How much more strongly it might have grown,

how big and plentiful the blossoms might be,

if only I had tended to it well.

This is a thing I can never know.

And so it goes as well with my forsaken heart.

You took it, barely beating, from my chest

and planted it in a few kind words.

You watered it once with a touch from your rough hands,

then left it alone to wonder when you would return.

You did not notice as it grew,

helpless and unsure of itself,

in a world that is indifferent at best

to the struggle of an easily breakable thing.

You never looked as it shot upward

toward the sky,

offering its buds to you, its god.

I suppose I should be grateful

that you had tended once,

however briefly,

to this dying thing inside of me.

And yet, I cannot help but feel remorse somehow

that you gave it life and hope such as this.

I regret that you saved this dying vine

and then show no interest in its offerings of love.

At the bookstore

We’re all sitting in the bookstore, never buying.

Wanting to taste the tea they sell, but never trying.

We fight so hard to be unchanged

by the convictions of others, but we are not the same.

What they really want us to have they don’t sell.

Fluorescent lights and small seats,

I will meet you between the sheets

Maybe of paper, maybe cloth

since you seem like you are lost.

Maybe I could find you if I tried.

Tomorrow morning, will you love me?

Will there be someone above me?

Will you fight to recall my name?

What else can you not retain?

I didn’t know that I was just a game.

Maybe I will cook for you

or is there some place to get to?

I can make you something quick

like oatmeal that will stick

to your bones; you are so thin.

So now, what is left to say?

Paraphrase Edna Saint Vincent Millay:

‘Are you warmed a little, though far from warm?’

Have I done more good than harm?

I don’t want to be one more mistake to you.

Getting to know Ice And Sparrow…

I realized the other day that I share super personal crap…I mean poetry…with the world, and yet not a lot of actual facts about me. So I thought I would look up some online 50 questions stuff and answer them…for anyone who’s interested…not that anyone is…but, hey, it’s a way to pass the time, right? So here you go…


My name is Amy Sarah Wilson. I was named by a family friend, so I honestly have no clue. The man and his wife never had any kids, and so they asked him (she had passed away several years before I was born) if he ever had a child what would they name it. If I was a boy, I would have been Gregory. I never got to meet this man, he died when I was only a few months old, but from what I understand, he was very sweet and so surprised and happy that they named me Amy.

My handwriting looks like a 12 year old boys…so not particularly, but I don’t hate it enough to sit there and practice my penmanship either. I have crap to do, Mom! She has always teased me about my horrible handwriting.


No, I can’t have kids because of a medical condition. The doctor’s exact words were “there’s more chance of you winning the lottery”. Wow, that’s sensitive, you douche bag…

Uh…I’m pretty funny and gullible, so I think yes…on the other hand, I’m super weird too, so I probably wouldn’t like to spend a lot of alone time with me…

I use it as needed.

I am not a cereal fan so much, but I will eat Lucky Charms with out milk on them.

Yes, until they are sufficiently worn out, then no.

Ice cream should be it’s own food group. I like anything unless it has fruit or marshmallows in it. I think it’s vanilla, but I don’t like the vanilla that has the beans in it…it makes me feel like I am eating tiny bugs or something.

Hands. You can tell a lot about a person by their hands. And if I have to shake hands, and you give me a wimpy hand shake because I am a girl, I will crush every bone in your hand…I HATE wimpy handshakes…they are only to be given to elderly women.


Leonard. For anyone who’s read the blog from the beginning, he’s the one all the sad poems are about. He committed suicide and I miss him every second of every day.

Black slippers that are a three sizes too big. I prefer to be barefoot, but it is stinking cold in my house right now for some reason, so I am rocking the slippers.

My music mix on Spotify. Regina Spector right now.

Smoke from a wood burning stove, and men’s cologne…like Joop or Candies…oh, baby that’s good stuff.

My little sister

Mountains. I used to live at the beach…sand and tourists every where. Ugh.

Basketball. I like the Celtics.


Naturally, my hair is brown with red highlights and I’ve had a few greys since I was eleven. But currently, it’s a weird mousy brown, thanks to a bottle.EYE COLOR?
I used to have dark brown eyes, but they’ve gotten lighter as I’ve gotten older, and now they are more hazel.

Pretty much all of it…

I think it was “The Brothers Bloom”. I can’t remember. I am not a big t.v. watcher.

Black with accidental blue acrylic paint all over the front…

Winter. The seasons in order of greatness, from best to worst: fall, winter, spring, summer. I HATE to be hot. You can always put more clothes on, you can only take off so many without being obscene.

Not a fan of kissing, so hugs. But it better not be that one armed shit…I want to know I was hugged!

Ice cream.


John Connelly’s The Book Of Lost Things.

Currently the mouse, a glass of water, and a list of websites I like.

the sound of one hand clapping…or a tree falling in the woods…

I am super crafty, and am especially good at crocheting.

Lisbon, Ohio, USA. (population: about five people)

Elizabethton, TN

White with black shutters. Is it weird that I actually had to go look and see what color the shutters were?

Dark grey

Apple juice or orange juice?
orange juice (NO PULP!)

Are you a morning or night person?
either or…as long as I get the same amount of sleep, I’m good either way

What was your favorite childhood television program?
x-men and batman

Are you a collector of anything?
I collect weird, random stuff that catches my eye…currently my favorite thing is a utensil holder that looks like the Swedish chef from The Muppets.

If you could have any superpower, what would it be?
Mind control

What is usually your first thought when you wake up?
Turn off that stupid alarm before I throw it across the room

What do you usually think about right before falling asleep?
Escape plans…and penises. I’m a big fan of those.

What’s your favorite color?

What’s your favorite animal?

Do you believe in extraterrestrials or life on other planets?
Nope…but I have a crazy ridiculous fear of space aliens. I am not afraid of normal crap like snakes and spiders and axe murderers, but I am super freaked out by space alien stuff. I know it’s dumb, but they creep me out so bad.

Do you believe in ghosts?
No, but I wish I did.

Ever been addicted to a video/computer game? Which one(s)?
I went through a stint with Call of Duty Modern Warfare. And Okami was a fun game…

You’re given 1 million dollars, what do you spend it on?
I would get my teeth fixed, they hurt like all damn day…and then pay off all my bills

Have any bad habits?
I chew gum all the time and really loudly.

Which bad habits, if any, drive you crazy?
I hate it when someone asks you a question, but they don’t listen to what you say. If you don’t want to know, don’t ask. That kills me.

List 3 of your best personality traits:
Funny, general niceness, inability to be mean even if the other person deserves it

List 3 of your worst personality traits:
talk way too much, insert random trivia into conversations, inability to be mean even if the other person deserves it

List 1 thing you wish you could change about yourself:
I am really indecisive, and I don’t like that about myself.

Any tattoos or piercings?
Pierced ears (just once in each ear), two tattoos: a turtle on my back and mice around my ankle

What’s the first thing you notice in the opposite sex?
Hands…its a weird thing for me…see above.

What personality traits do you look for in a partner?
Funny, kind, how they talk to old people and kids

What personality traits do you dislike in other people?
Judgmental without cause, quiet talkers and mumblers (I don’t hear that well, and you can only say ‘What?’ so many times before you look like an asshole.), and I hate when you first meet people and they give one word answers to questions that are clearly meant to be a conversation starter…do you want to sit in silence and stare at me for five minutes, because if so, I’m going to stab myself with a fork.

Are you mostly a clean or messy person?
Mostly clean, but refuse to pick up after other adults. That glass will sit on the coffee table till the end of time.

Do you see yourself getting married in the next 5 years?
I am currently married, but would love to be divorced in the next 5 weeks. After that, I would run away with a quickness anytime anyone mentioned marriage. RUN AWAY!

If you could live anywhere in the world, where would you live?
I like it in Tennessee, so it could be my home base, and I would just travel all the time.

If you could visit anywhere in the world, where would you go?
Everywhere I could. I like to travel.

Name 1 regret you have:
Not saying I love you and not hugging Leonard the last time I saw him. And not knowing something was wrong.

Name 1 thing you miss about being a kid:
I miss feeling like I had a lot in front of me…all the things in life were still a mystery. I hated that as a kid, but as an adult, I miss it. I feel like a lot of choices have already been made and can’t be taken back.

Name 1 thing you love about being an adult:

What’s your favorite song at the moment?
Restless Farewell by Bob Dylan
Humidity Built the Snowman by John Prine
How by Regina Spector
Kathleen by Josh Ritter
…the list goes on infinitely…

What’s your favorite song of all time?
Impossible to answer…does not compute…error…error…

What’s your favorite thing to do on a Saturday night?
sleep…wow, that’s so lame, yet so true

What’s your favorite thing to do on a Sunday afternoon?
crafty stuff

You’re about to walk the green mile, what do you have as your last meal?
baby back ribs

Which would you rather have, 100 million dollars or true love?
Give me the money…I’ll buy love.

Ever wish you were born the opposite sex? If so, why?
I’m kind of jealous of peeing standing up…I feel like that would be a big time saver.

If you HAD to change your name, what would you change it to?
Sullivan Grey. People would call me Sully. That would be awesome.

Do you believe in the afterlife?
No, but I wish I did.

So any thoughts on this? Got anymore questions for me? Let me know, and I’ll get back to you.

His words

I watch as the feral winds

blow through her mousy hair.

I watch as she stubbornly

tries to keep it in place,

but not for vanity’s sake.

She likes to feel the wind on her bare face.

I know this because

as it hits her,

she closes her eyes

and the corners of her mouth smile.

I don’t know why I noticed.

Some days I watch her

as she walks between the boxes in the aisles

on her way to and from

the office door.

Only a glimpse now and then,

nothing more.

But she brightens my day.

Sometimes she’ll smile

or wave if she can,

and in that grin

or the flick of her hand

I catch sight of what could be beauty.

Sometimes she passes quickly,

disturbs the dust in the air with her speed

and even then, out of the corner of her eye,

I think she is looking at me.

Sometimes I eat lunch with her

in my car.

She seems to seek me out.

Once she told me

I was her favorite person.

I don’t know why she said it.

She’s not a pretty girl.

She’s not the girl you dream of, that’s for sure.

But she’s kind and she’s funny.

She’s generous and laughs easily,

and always tries to make everyone smile.

There’s something about her.

I don’t know what it is.

I find myself looking at her,

really looking, more and more.

And when talks,

I wait impatiently

for her to look into my eyes.

I stare at those kind eyes :

not brown, not green

and with an odd fleck of black

in only one.

I don’t know why I know that.

And when she laughs, I laugh too.

Or smile at the crazy things she says.

I don’t know anyone like her.

She’s so plain.

I can’t seem to get her out of my mind.


Make up your mind already!

I don’t know how much longer I can take your fickle ways.

I need you to love me or hate me.

I won’t tolerate the grays of friendship anymore.

I’m yours if you want me.

Otherwise, be cruel and unkind,

mock me for all my flaws,

become a terror to my lonely mind.

I will not stand for the intermixing days of interest then indifference.

If you won’t decide, then walk away.

Love me or leave me alone forever.

There are no other words you need to say.

I already know what apathy feels like.

I’ve been its victim for a very long time.

Now I want somebody who really wants me,

someone who would fight to put their hand in mine.

I don’t want an indecisive thing

who one day seems to be pleased

to hold steady conversation

and the next avoids me like a deadly disease.

I know I don’t let it show,

but I am a girl with feelings and a heart.

You can’t keep treating me this way.

You can’t keep breaking me apart.

Nothing but ash in a strong wind

I will go for many long days without seeing you.

I think it’s not so long a time to be apart.

I wish I didn’t feel the way I do,

but you are caught up in my heart.

I have been alone for so long,

alone with someone in the same room.

You will never understand that feeling.

Or, at least, I hope you never do.

I know if I were prettier you would want me,

but this is the face that I possess.

Your shallow eyes are only one flaw,

it doesn’t make me love you any less.

Why should I be ashamed that my heart has claimed you,

even if you are repelled by my touch?

If a heart will give where there is no gain,

can it not be left in peace as such?

If you do not care for me,

if, to my love, you turn your back,

it doesn’t diminish me in any way.

It still is not a grievous act.

What happens to love that is not returned?

Does it blow away?  Does it just get burned?

If I have learned one thing from my past:

I’m on the wind and nothing but ash.

Indeed, I’d be much happier

if you’d reciprocate the feelings I have for you.

But my heart wants what it wants.

I’ll be content; there’s nothing I can do.