No, this is limbo.
Don't mistake it for anything else.
It is not more than what it is.
Maybe I am drifting towards something,
but if so I can't see it
and hard as you might look, neither will you.

the kabalarians think they know me.

The name of Victoria gives you a clever, quick, analytical mind, but you suffer with a great deal of self-consciousness, lack of confidence, and much aloneness because of misunderstandings. Your idealistic and sensitive nature gives you a deep appreciation for the finer things of life and a strong desire to be of service to humanity. There are times when you experience inner turbulence at your inability to say what you mean. It is far easier for you to express your deeper thoughts and feelings through writing than verbally. You find pleasure in literature, in poetry, and in your ideals and will turn to them when you feel you have been misunderstood. You are deeply moved by the beauties of life, especially nature.

Although the name Victoria creates an interest in the deeper aspects of life, we emphasize that it limits self-expression and friendly congeniality with a moody disposition. This name, when combined with the last name, can frustrate happiness, contentment, and success, as well as cause health weaknesses in the heart, lungs and bronchial area.

maybe

I stand in the maybe worlds
outside of absolute windows,
in the echoes of light,
in the shadows of sound,
almost understanding.
Almost inside.
And I shout to you my unhappiness,
my moans of pain,
that are disguised as ration and reason.
I stand in the outside worlds
in front of the warm windows
in the pasts of light,
in the futures of sound,
almost there.
Almost okay.
and I whisper to you my doubtings,
my misgivings,
that are disguised as the modest ramblings
of an interpersonal genius.
Maybe I am right.
Which would make everyone else wrong.
Maybe my eagle vision, sharpened and stabbing,
jabs at the faults around me. Hits hardest when i turn it on myself.
Lashes out, friendly in name only.
Or maybe I am a jealous storm,
a whirlwind of pain, maybe I am
a shipwreck, an abandoned house,
maybe I mourn at night, behind closed doors,
and maybe I disguise my tears as pearls of wisdom.
Maybe my sadness is a badge that I wear,
Maybe my strength is a fluke that I flaunt.
Has no one thought of that?

I cry out against the mysteries of the relationships around me,
denounce their heroic attempts, their pale-faced endurance,
dismiss their tears as unfounded
their love as misguided.
Maybe I am right.
What then?
Maybe if I had my way, we would all be right.
Sterile, cynical, and
all alone.
And right.

Maybe one of these days someone will muzzle me
and put you all out of your misery.

Oh dear.

Guys.
On my history test
I
confused Isaac Newton
with Thomas Edison.

our teacher, who art in Suburbia,
hallowed be thy name.
Thy pension come, thy marks be done
on earth just as good as in heaven.
Give us this day our daily pass, and
forgive us our lateness, as we forgive
those who are late after us
and lead us not into failure,
but deliver us from McJobs.
Amen.

pixie

guys, my cat is utterly incompetent at playing.
I gave her a cork to play with =p
she was lying on her side playing with it
she kicked it, it got away from her and rolled a few inches away.
She just kind of stared at it for awhile.