Quella's blog

I have seen all of your faces, but only in the moonlight.

They sing different songs

with language strewn across their lips 

like mounds of rubble that piled up quickly.

Each mouth sings, asking me to bless their vowels

and strangle their consonants

because consonants are viewed as too solitary, where their from.

Strings have been strung over the window in your cell

like the birds that were stretched across the sky.

Music is too pretty, scream your faces as they each ask your hands to do different things.

They hurl shards of letters and punctuation and scribbles and spaces,

 Real words, on occasion.

I watch from my perch, blocking the moonlight

until the gap between your teeth fills with doubt and each face is hung and shadowed.

Only now you realize that your songs are only mumbles. 

Stunted, and easily hushed into wreckage.

Her shallow wake washes the bird in the cage.

Drowning the freedom it had when it came.

Her hair line is silver her arms vallied planes.

Her dream, she discovers, is clad in her shame.

But one soon will die with the wane of the moon.

Buried by ghosts holding a child's red balloon.

Her mind is a cavern of comments and sin.

Hidden away where its lit to be dim.

"I see you have a lonely soul...

Feeble hands...

and your eardrums are clearly tierd of noise.

Your spirit was drawn from the well on the hilltop, ma'am.

Up where your children are singing.

They seem to have lost their minds. I suppose they ran up there to hide.

See that crow up there with'em? Thats the god they pray to.

And I think the rags they're wearing were your curtains.

They've gone wild

and I'm afraid they might start to fade.

But they all have quite pretty voices ma'am.

You must be very proud."

I remember feeling salt in my lungs as I stared at you,

with your silver eyes and ribbon arms.

You were lit with city light and your hands

were bleeding water into the sink.

Remember me for my simple words and simple eyes and simple heart,

and I'll remember your voice.

My dear, I wish you had shown me fire before I fell into the sea,

so every light wouldn't  look like a sun.

I get tired of worrying about what'll burn me and

what won't.

I see death on my way in the morning, some days.

He likes to walk up on the rooftops,

plucking people from the ground with a Shepard's crook.

I used to walk like all the others,

but I've found out that doesn't do much good for them. 

My skin is sun bleached and my face is slightly dog-like,

as I flout face up through the city.

I remind myself of a leaf, sometimes.

Unnoticed, and drifting through everyone else.

And I know it sounds strange, my dear, but if strange is a place I passed it a while ago.

As I watch him perching above all them, ranking himself higher than the sun,

I sometimes wonder if maybe,

Death is afraid of me.

And you thought about the way the rain fell, 

warped 

and 

solitary,

with colors hidden amidst silver.

Running down window panes.

Ghostly, like you imagined your childhood would be

if you ever had the chance to meet it,

face to face.

You thought about how the children all came clamoring in

when the world became loud again,

though the highways slowed down to 30. 

And as you walk, you seem to stare into the eyes of everyone

because something about their expressions puzzle you.

Eyes are gentle things, really.

Its the skin around them that fools you.

And sometimes you wish you could slide your big charred hands

over the edges and peer inside.

See just how blue they are,

and whether or not they remind you

of some pale faced ghost

who only comes out when it gets quiet.

Fold your freedom

neatly by the road.

Tie it to the ground.

See how the brave ones come running home

when wind blows.

Locked down and sold,

when the dogs come

wild and wanting a soul.

He who's fallen will praise the ghosts

and borrow a more wild heart.

Babe we're burning.

Call the rain.

Haunt the daylight with another face.

The childs crying.

Someone's baby girl.

By the wastelands laid her chains.

Chains that held her away from more.

Now she sees us in our sour little world.

Babe we're burning.

Call the rain.

Haunt the daylight with another face.

Babe we're burning.

Call the rain.

Haunt the daylight with another face.

Tearful little boy,

you met your joy

evenly among the elm trees.

Your little army face

a bit misplaced.

Hungry for a bit of ever.

Your helmet past your cheek.

You said you'd keep

your spirit far away from daddy's.

As light flooded in

forbidden

was the gateway to your little hands.

My love, your daddy said

to paint it red.

Left before you ever asked him

why tears separate

and then they rain.

Why don't they fall at once and drown us?

And flood the shallow lake.

The soul you'll take

when you leave to fend off demons.

Their limbs as tall as trees.

With knots for knees.

No matter how you push them

they won't move. They'll stay,

and pass you by.

And make you climb

twice the distance that your baby hands can reach.

Or touch the sky.

A mile wide.

Severed by the many roads to heaven.

Bound to who he killed

and what he healed.

When no one ever came to save him

for you, his little one.

They took his gun

away and fired at the rain that fell to flood.

Kill their daughters, fight their sons.

Breath my angel to their lungs.

This world is hellbound, but I am gone.

Tell the martyr its all been done.

Blind boy running. He burnt his souls.

When he falls he'll find his home.

Hides his wishes in the weeds.

Carefull, dreamer, so no one sees.

Fell the soldier for his ghost.

Held in keeping someone elses love.

Take your ashes in your own hands.

Saintly dreamer, kiss their land.

Mama fell in love with a hobo man.

She put her pretty ring in his old tin can.

And when her baby offered heaven, said,"your a real nice man."

But she let the pennies fall through his ghostly hand.

Rainey was the sky where the corn fields met.

Wove into each other like a fishing net.

Wrapped around the ankles of a boy in his bullet,

all singing to a lord, "Not done growing yet."

All singing, "let me love with the life of me."

"My bones hate to share their roots with reality." Read more »

And those were the words she said as she left

as she rummaged though the last remaining pile of chaos in her beautiful brain.

It was funny how that thing worked, her brain I mean.

It read from write to left

judged each word as an individual

not a sentance with meaning.

She noticed the little flaws in things but never the big ones.

Never the big ones

because to her

nothing of such significance was ever flawed, really.

Misplaced maybe,

but never flawed, never wrong.

Never a mistake.

And its evident that she thought this way

because she herself was just a misplacement, too.

Someone ordered a few too many of the same kind of girl

so they screwed her up just to make it even.

It isn't fair in a way, but in a way it is.

She never even cared. Or maybe she did,

but the symmetry of her face fooled everyone.

No one suspected

that she saw them all as if she was looking though a prism.

And after all this time, she just now decided she should leave.

Finally realized that no one ever thought she was beautiful.

Realized every one else saw things right side up. 

And now I am determined.

To find that bit of life crammed inside the essence of this reality.

I've searched every corner of my skull

every miscellaneous piece of truth

every drop of curiosity.

and still I've found only useless tenacity.

So where do they hide?

These beacons of the living?

The shining bit of foolishness stuffed into the shadow of the meticulous.

Because the poised aren't very alive.

Just breathing in the dust 

and breathing it out again.

Never breaking character.

Never stopping to watch their dust while its sunlit. 

Come home to me, my beauty.

My arms are outstretched and pleading.

And I know its hard to stand in this light,

when the shadows keep pulling you down.

But they're not going to leave us, love, so you may as well observe the form they've taken.

Remember the times they shrink so that you can take that chance to rise.

When they change for the moon and remain for the sun.

When they fade for the darkness and strengthen in the light.

Take note of they're patterns, little one, for they reflect in none but you. 

In your eyes, this is evident, my beauty.

How you want so much to stand, to rise, to grow. 

But you've already taken the shadows to heart

and they wont let you leave them.

But its ok, child.

Its ok to be weak.

To walk with a limp, just as long as your  walking. 

So come to me,

for I feel you in my chest like a frightened fledging.

I won't let you fall anymore.

You have been hurt so much, darling,

So much.

But Its ok, my love.

You need not fail if you're trying.

Come to me.

I will give you my strength.

A vivid yearning escapes my heart and makes its way to my thoughts.

The liquid wish is poured into my mouth

as my tounge molds it into words.

"I want to be free from myself," I say.

And as I say it,

I realize its truth,

so I scream it,

and it sounds even better.

And suddenly I realize that I'm just sitting there screaming

so loud that my chest hurts and I laugh

because its kind of funny.

I wonder

if I wish loud enough,

if my words will separate from me

and grow their own limbs to be free with?

If maybe,

they'll become there own being and find a soul to capture,

or if they'll just sort of walk around

so people can read them.

But then what would I be?

Without that wish?

Without

a definition.

Happy, maybe?

Ignorant?

Jealous of the freedom I gave my words?

Sullen and hushed

further

into

myself.

Miserable and wanting

to be free but- 

no...

I won't want to be free

because I will have already given that up.

And maybe I''l just forget about wishing

and the color will drain from my face from

from lack of hope.

And then I'll be free.

But I'll be named the death of all my wishes.

Which is in some ways worse

then the death of anything else.

And then my wishes will never grow legs.

Never grow up,

grow out.

Die as children.

A sacrifice for my inability to full fill them.

I see your heart.

Though you hide it well.

It mirrors mine exactly.

And I know your burdened soul.

When theres a storm.

You walk right outside.

And through your hands higher,

then you ever thought to try. 

So the days blur to endless thoughts.

And you hold me, safe inside your trembling arms.

While the others think we're the lucky ones.

But I know your heart too well.

Even though its you who fell.

They only know.

What they think they know.

But in your eyes I see it clearly.

All the distance that you own. 

And as the rain falls, you shelter me.

And I forget I'm the one whose supposed to bleed.

But the absence of your silent screams

fills the violent air.

So I wake but you're still there.

You have told me,

of your desperate prayers.

And when I cry for you,

you tell me not to care.

But I love you.

You find your demons everywhere.

And I'll shield you from the pain.

Like you shield me from the rain. 

I see your heart in every choice.

And I'll love you still,

I hear your voice.

The sun is coming, my love.

Its on its way. Any day now. 

So we must prepare now darling, for when the light dawns on our worn limbs.

We have wilted, but if the world tilts just a little, we will start to make breath for the beings.

It will be bright, my love.

Do you remember how bright it used to be? 

How warm it will seem when we thaw.

How beautiful this world will be when we can see again.

So stay with me love. For we are rooted here until the light comes back.

Don't leave just yet for the shadows seem warmer when you are with me.

Imagine how it will disappear, this beastly thing called the dark.

It will leave us to make way for the brilliance that is to come.

You can trust me, my love, for trust is the meaning of our existence.

We feed the lungs of those who walk,

for those who walk need our strength.

And when the sun comes back to us, we will lift out faces for her

as she gives up her power for all the little ones.

And when the sun has given all she has to give, 

we will wait once more,

for she will come again.

I remember how it felt to be in your arms that once.

Like you were strong and I was your baby girl.

Like you were everything and I didn't have to be

anything but yours. 

Not even mine.

I remember how it rained that day.

Hard. Like the sky was pelting words at us from too high up.

And you rocked me

gently

like you had always dreamed of doing.

From the momment you knew me,

you dreamed. 

And I remember the unsettling feeling that came with the next momment.

I remember hearing my own screams grow in streangth 

before you knew that anything was wrong.

Before you knew you were Read more »

I wish I didn't have to remember.
The sound of my crying against the roar of your reverence.
And it does me no good to stare at you,
Taunting myself with the possibility of becoming you.
Being your perfection.
Breathing with your lungs the toxic air you breath.
And everyone says no.
No, I can't be perfect. "No ones perfect."
But you are.
And they tell me to leave you alone.
Not to follow on the road you'd gladly lead me down.
They say you're "dangerous."
"Just choose to be happy. It's all a choice," they say.
But I tell them it's not.
Not anymore.
And though they tell me to ignore you, they ingrave your memory into my heart.
"You must remember." They say with their eyes.
"You are forbidden to forget."

Its about to get cold again, my dear.

So breath into your hands and warm the perfect pieces of your soul.

All have awakened though some still yearn for sleep.

I struggle at this, love, because I am forbidden to make their lives easy.

And I know you wonder silly things like why it is that I can't really feel, but really, thats not silly at all.

And I remember what you said to me when I told you I would come back for you one day,

You asked me why I wore black

and I looked at you like you were just a child

because thats all I thought you were

and I said," Because I like it."

I don't though. Really I don't, but I was in a hurry to re-submerge,

and you were just a tiny little life tugging at the strands of my big black cape

but now I know that you made a wish on me.

I guess somehow you knew that I was dark as an empty nights sky

but my eyes somehow still looked like stars to you.

And I'm flattered by this, my dear,

 Though I can't fathom your innocence

And I am amazed at the fact that you cant yet spell your name

but you know every single intention I've had and its like you know me better than they do.

But to you, I'm one of the greats.

You tried once to recite me to your audience,

but my dear none of them really cared...

And its all my fault, little love, Read more »

It echos like love in a sinners soul

Wandering through the thickness of pride.

It had decorated itself in tassles and lace,

so as to make it apear more complicated.

Even so, confusion is a small embelishment compared to the intricacy it visits.

Love is simple, really.

Woven from light,

like the sun or the space between the darkness

and its face is hollow and plain.

The simplicity mocks those who dwell soaly inside themselves,

Yearning for the secret concealed within the visitor. Read more »

There's a light that hides in the dark.

Lurking,

like a foe to the feared. 

And she saw it once,

while crawling on her hands and knees

The stars that hung from your ceiling are gone,

You took them down and sent them on,

Dreams you gave away or pawned,

Slowly saddened with the dawn.

So when the glassy tide came near,

The stars marched on to disappear,

And seabound were the last few years.

They went away in spite of fear.

The precious hope among your faces,

Slept while you dreamed of lost relations,

And by default of being hastened,

Those stars became imagination.

So when the maelstrom in the skies,

Tore away at the beautiful lies

and reminded you that life will still die 

amidst your will, and absent eyes.

I believe this winged heart.

It chases the healing.

As it carries you up high, the light fell to the ground.

And this momment tastes like puzzles

even though today is round.

While the breeze came home running

bekoning you down.

And you watched the porch swing creeking

as the night began to lull

And this rust is slowly greening like the waves apon their fall.

But the sun came to quickly.

With the sound of battle calls.

And your eyes like tiny fires.

With your back agenst my wall.

This love I have is worth my life.

Its worth anything I could ever give you.

Its worth the

creeking

of the porch swing

as we rock

and watch the rain.

This love I have is worth the world

and all the thoughts I've yet to think.

I would give it all to you child.

If I could if they'ed let me.

But here I stand in my humbled heart,

you, listening to it beat.

What does it sound like, love?

There's a beat in my chest that accompanies my heart.
Together they walk.
Steadily.
This stranger is and old friend to my pounding.
A lost memory that seems to have returned
but finds no spot in my mind that will hold it.
And I can't help but wonder,
why this beat decided to steel my courage instead of my life.
Take it from me gently, and walk with it.
Hand in hand.
Friends.
And now I'm lonely standing in the midst of betrayal,
but all is calm.
And betrayal is wonder.
So I stay here. Watching my heart
as it parades around with it's beautiful friend
and I feel sort of happy for it.
Like it was my child and now it's becoming something more.
There is only quiet in my loneliness.
No wind to blow the dust that has settled at my feet.
No movement to disrupt the strangeness of confusion
as it dances infront of me,
hurting my spirirt, while whispering 

pretty words of the courage that it

took.

She's trapped in a silence

that bows in a kitchen.

Atop steam currents that rise up to her, and taunt her with their beauty.

Cascading in mid flight, adding deatail to lucidity.

Her dreams are all barren and her song has disappeared.

Lost in the whispers of freer souls

and in the vapor of the lonely.

She's trapped in a silence

that bows in a kitchen.

Atop steam currents that rise up to her, and taunt her with their beauty.

Cascading in mid flight, adding deatail to lucidity.

Her dreams are all barren and her song has disappeared.

Lost in the whispers of freer souls

and in the vapor of the lonely.

The snow is falling over my soul. Burying it's warmth.

The snow tastes like hunger,

and nothing. 

Nothing at all.

It tastes like secrets.

Secrets I want to tell you so badly but I cant because then

you would stop me.

My soul is cold now.

And the hole in my chest is burning.

Bleeding out memories of innocence,

leaving me with a kind of emptiness that

hurts your mind and your core and drowns your color in tears.

Leaving me with 

a tired spirit and no soul to fall back on.

Now I have nothing.

Nothing at all.

When the trees lose their colors, life is added to the sunrise. 

Frost blankets the frozen ground with a beauty that only the dreamers can see.

The birds fly away, bidding us warmth as the flap their feathers.

Wishes melt from the stars, and fall in flurries of snow.

The fire crackles and warms the most frozen of spirits

as the melodies of past solace rings with hushed tranquility.

Winter is written on the birch bark

and it's story will be sung in the wind.

The wind blew in your face and I watched as you opened your mouth to breath it in. 

Your eyes danced with wonder as a flurry of hope rained down on you.

You had always been fascinated by this world,

and as you ran to father winter, he scooped you up in his arms.

He swung you around and you laughed because he loved you.

As he set you down, I watched you reach for his hand. 

You walked with him and I noticed how you danced with such care.

You saw the beauty in the cold as you marveled the quiet.

You looked like and angle to me. 

Your blond hair and you blue eyes gleaming like the lights on a tree.

The earth was warmed by your heart and by each step you took.

Your voice rang like bells in the midst of a frost.

Your soul was like a fire and as you loved with your eyes,

This frozen world began to thaw.

The smoke rose from the fire into my eyes as we watched the ground from the roof.

The grayness of the air tinted my vision

and I let my irises fill with dirty sunlight.

The pinkness in your cheeks took on a gray hue

and the fog looked closer than it did before.

I pondered what your spirit would look like this way.

Or if it would even change at all.

You watched me wonder about things,

and you tried to guess what I thought about.

You were wrong everytime spoke,

But somehow, wrong felt right.

You smiled at me and I watched the fire burn in your eyes.

I wanted to fall asleep this way. Held gently by your gaze, listening to crackling flames,

But the air was hard too breath in.

I thought about why you guessed the things you guessed.

Why things looked the way they looked today.

Why smoke rose the way did.

When the fog was already too thick to dream through.