Night Knifes My Breath, Swallows Whole My Tongue

It’s been a little while since my last update. I had one coming a few days ago but there was a blowup and it never got finished. Essentially, we’ve all been getting on one another’s nerves, and I’ve taken the brunt of some of it. I am the newcomer, I’m aware. Somehow, I’m still conveniently always the one who receives almighty shit for things that happen in my immediate presence. One thing I know, I distinctly hate being called (or rather, yelled at) from across a building. Every time I hear my name called with a shrill tone at too high a decibel level, somehow my inner Charles Manson’s interest is simply piqued.
Anyhow, I had the amusement the day before yesterday to have an old couple pull through our drive-thru at 10:30 at night to order some burgers. As the gentleman was paying, he asked me if he could have his order to go. This is one of the many times you wonder if your brain is playing tricks on you, a question so completely lacking intelligence that you worry having to even humor it with an answer would cause your mind irreversible damage. I agreed, of course, and then he handed me a flyer that asked me if I would allow Jesus to save my soul. *groan* I respect religion, however much I dislike it. I respect the religious, however I disagree with their approach. However, when a perfect stranger cannot overcome their pretention enough to assume that I likely have my own belief system in place, and to offer me such material may be offensive to me, all it does is piss me off. Your beliefs are your own, people. When other people try to push their bible-hugging agendas off on me, I feel the same way as I do when dealers ask me if I want to buy drugs: sort-of violated. All I can do is look uncomfortable, say "no thanks" and frantically consider my exit strategy.
Anyhow… I finally found my poetry book. Woohoo! Some poems for you…
You gave me all of these freedoms
and took them away from me
You gave me these thoughts
and I still can’t tell you how I feel
You gave me my voice
but my opinions aren’t real
I’m laughing and crying
I’m boxed inside this skin.
Kassondra Staschuk © 2008
Lying here
I’m left on the floor
I ignore the knocking at my door
I won’t answer the phone
I’m here all alone
And I’m fading into nothing
Echoes of you remain
I’m confused, displayed, exposed and used

Kassondra Staschuk © 2008
Pointlessly weaving, this story carries on.
All we do is forge forward into the nothing
expectant and inexplicable
We disappear into forthcomings and wishes
but we never ultimately arrive.
Before and after a moment can be reached
We are still waiting once it has passed.
It is as though now does not exist–
for it never was nor will it ever be.
Words string into phrases and sentences
and in turn form paragraphs and chapters
but still make no sense until a conclusion has been met.
So I rip a page from a book and hold it in my palms
— for it is my favorite page
and incomplete without its counterpart I read it
and for the first time I understand
-moreso than in its previous entirety
We are never consciously complete
We are always broken- always in pieces
…perfectly incomplete.

Kassondra Staschuk © 2008
A Poem For DeSade (The Only One I Told)
I never knew that relief could be so hard
I can’t erase it, can’t forget it
I just try my best to live and just let it have been
I try the best I can.
But each morning I pull on my identity
like an old spandex bodysuit to cover up my withered soul.
What did I do? He asked me.
"I found faith in God, I saw no bad in the world-
I knew no shame." But he took it all away.
So I live each day trying to find something to believe
to conjure up some kind of trust
to hide the truth behind my eyes so you cannot blame me.
I say to myself that I’m okay
looking in a mirror wishing I could trade myself in
like an old car with holes rusted through its door
and an exhaust that hangs to the ground.
I wish I could wipe myself clean of this whole thing
But people know I’m not from around here
because I don’t belong.
I don’t fit in with this ignorance bit
I know too much to call this home
But these days I wrap around myself
like a warm blanket
while I brick a wall with anger
and I brick it high with hate.
These days I hide inside myself
catching only broken glimpses and vague spoken thoughts
I crawl inside myself and curl up and cry
because even there inside of me resonating
these memories never die.

Kassondra Staschuk © 2008
The two awesomest cakes ever created. Especially the first one…
Yo, today is the party! If you’re a friend, and you’re in downtown Nanaimo, come hang with the gang at the MGM, 6pm. We’re going dutch, because we’re all broke (not cheap). Spankings are optional. If you’re coming, please either email me, or call the restaurant, so that we have enough seats.
Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear.
He who has hope has everything.

~ by Kд§$ị (ИovΔ) on 06/05/2008.

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