I've Moved

www.beccahupp.wordpress.com

Time moves along so fast

Yesterday I was seven and tomorrow I fear I'll wake up with wrinkles on my face and children all grown up and a husband who can no longer achieve an erection without pills

Emerging a slight crack, your voice carries
Seeing sleep from the inside, bumping against my eyelids when I blink
You little piece of me
You little piece of me so in the way
And helplessly wail, a tiny blowhole gang popping rainbow soap bubbles
Little calloused feet with big silicon mothers
Getting in the way again
Soles on the carpet to walk it off
Burying ash, gray to float away and praise, hallelujah
With my knees in the grass to say I hope you never find out
Lucid and laughing at nothing at all
Soon I’ll need another and another and another and…
Dionysian grip with Apollo all dressed in crimson
Billowing above from a stream of gray elation
Skin, illuminated forearms reflect the ceiling and hands catch
From flaky white surface, sins as a crutch

Shake it Out

I found this little treasure hidden away in the depths of my hard-drive.

Points like trumpets, swallows and sighs
Self-loathing grows little feet and runs around
An awkward tap dance for the indifferent sky
To make sense of the heavy shouts rolling down
Or the bolts of light setting fire and blinding eyes
Gashing down yellow strips of jealously in rage
Splitting the soliloquy of the sublime oak tree right in half
Cutting hands away from the golden box
Bloat its legs when it was once so proud
Make it an art to find yourself stumbling around
Smile so big is just flipped upside-down
Hyper-sensitive, give in, give in god-damn
I’d claim you were tipping back the bottle, holy father
I caught you sneaking around the corridors with their daughters
Whispering “submit, submit” to make no martyrs
Grow your hallelujah gut cute creature of immolation

How could this happen? I keep playing it over and over. Is it possible for this to all just disappear? Please God, please.

Am I delusional when I see what Ive been asking over and over again? Is there some plan, some intricate design to all of this? Because when I saw what some person wrote, I started to wonder if God was listening.

But God is not listening. Because God does not exist. God is a construct we make and fall back on when we are feeling weak. This idea that we call God is the ideal of humanity, humanity at its pinnacle. I noticed it, she noticed it, and Frank noticed it. I live by reason, even the Bible says our hearts are deceiving.