so be it.

The following poem is written from the perspective of Hedda, the main character in Henrik Ibsen’s play Hedda Gabler. With the piece I have written, I intend to elucidate her feelings about the people and events surrounding this fascinating individual. Gaining more insight into Hedda’s personality, the reader will realize her vices and quirks, which makes for a better understanding of her identity. Each stanza dissects an aspect of this complex persona. There is also an accompanying Statement of Intent that I have chosen not to include.




Passion, rage, fire
Burning in my soul and through the papers
Through to a world of death and dance melodies
Of curtains and corsages
A manuscript seared A child gone
Loss of innocent life? So be it.
Eyes burning in their sockets
Reflection
My brain burning in its skull
Charred fragments Pieces of their soul One collective soul
Charred fragments all that remain of
They who disgust me
With hair gold as weeds
With lack of courage Lack of beauty Lack of a better word
Nothing beautiful Just accidents
Curtains, the end, drawing to a close
Something he could not But will

I? Clinging to you who is not my savior
Holding on for dear death
And yet slip
Slip and fall
Deep into Then
Because Now is colorless? So be it.
The color of your times will never flood my life
But always my memory
But you are gone Forever fading
And replaced with a ghost of a trace of a fraction of nobility
Of respect and honor
From your place on high You watch me even in death
I will join you someday Flee far from the place
From him
He will never be you
Never shelter me Keep me

And my crimson pain
Can’t breathe in this life
Trains go on While I wait here
His midnight blindness Flaming ebony blindness
Lack of sight Lack of mind Lack of a better word
‘See I’m drowning in the life he’s made?
No? So be it.
I become jade As the days dawdle Linger Loiter
In these gunmetal gray times
For what is there to live?
In these gray times He has nothing to offer
He speaks of violet mountains and ancient peoples
But the pages of his books are yellowing
Cracking and the words fade white
He tries to revive them With travel With travel
But he is once again blind He sees nothing of what is placed before him
He has nothing to offer But he’ll try to

Shift me Shape me Make me pure
With your lies and perfect words
Pure like deceit Smooth and romantic
Toy with me As I toy with them
Secrets
Not an escape but a freedom
Not a refuge but a relief
Transient amusement? So be it.
You bring me a shape that belongs
Not in love
What is that? I know not
Laugh at me Laugh at my drama
My foolish heart and childish games
You adore them Revel in them
Feed off of my spirit
I squirm under your gaze
You reach for me but Never will I give in

To scandal I say bah
To gossip I say nay
Not afraid but utterly terrified
Discover me not
My nose in the sky I sneer at them all
Another enemy? So be it.
Disrepute shall not tarnish my name
Degrade Deride Dethrone
I shall sooner die than do such
Things
I am ugly I am weak I need salvation
But it lurks in shadows
The answer hides in Dingy dirty squalid shadows
So I clean them Clean but not use them
Polish to perfection I expect to rub right through!
Shiny and inviting But their reflections wreak of scandal
Not for me

Even a moment of indecision
Vile music swirling
Giddy voices chatting
Suspect me not…
Before my eyes no flashes no memories no life no love
Before my choice. Be it so beautiful.
Faster faster racing heart beating heart faster racing
Blood pounding eyes throbbing ears screaming
Hands hot feet cold Arms tremble
Trigger cut my skin cold steel temple
Smile creeps lips part no scream no laugh
Final rush a blow a hole a fire a light a dark
Trickle sweat tickle feel fickle girl with a selfish heart
My poison delivered in powder metal smoke
This is it this was you I will feel beautiful
My criminal hands do it do it do it
Calm before the storm
I wonder what hell looks—

settle.

stretching the muscles behind my eyes. looking around for something real. the life. the lies. the neverending struggle. all vanish with a whisper of hope. with good things on the horizon. strong things. beautiful things. heavy things. there's nothing to do but hope. seconds minutes hours days wasted on negativity and child's games. but there's no regret. rebuilding is easier than before. you are stronger than before. more radiant than before. the glass reflects a goodness and a light. too bring for now. beautiful nonetheless. where's the dark? where have your demons gone? quickly turn and see their retreat. smile. and make people ask why you are smiling.

mute.

my body's straining from sleep deprivation and now my eyes are straining in this horrid 6am light... it was like a movie. the timing, i mean. i had settled on my back, face and palms up, eyes painfully stuck open. i fixed the earbuds on either side of my brain. my finger hovered over the button and-- he speaks her name. my stupid heart stops and curiosity overtake the need to sleep. once again... i am vastly incapable of remaining content with myself. i asked him in my head" do you ever feel like you know exactly what and how you think but the next minute you're more lost than when you began?" or was it something more meaningful... i catch that glimpse and i feel swimming in the warmth of childhood. but i can't tell if i'm dreaming. can't tell if my brain is so over-active as to make my eyes believe they had seen a sign of love... and still-- i smile. i smile so hard my brain hurts. happiness-pain is the stuff of real love. and i can see i'll be just fine.

untitled.

it's funny when i sift through old writings and other people's lyrics and blogs and books and whatever else my eyes can devour to try and find the truth that already lies in my own brain. writing the truth that's inside of me is so excrutiating. writing the feelings that fester in my heart and in my head is so painful. it's such a different kind of hurt. it's a thud and an ache i've never felt before. it's a pressure on my body on my soul. i see this beautiful crying girl in the mirror and i want to shatter her face. but i'm already broken. and she's already gone.

[below]

I wish he didn’t light fire for ghosts. No one’s there, I said. Don’t matter, he shrugged. I wish he wouldn’t make fire for air no one there. Wish someone could see the flames licking the stone. Red orange yellow black. Hear their crackle laugh. Leaving their mark dark as night. Defecate. Their wretched beauty. No hand to warm. No heart to melt. Just nothing enjoying the death of the embers remembers. Remember when I told you what I told you. That day the fire for no one got lonely and found you. Searched for you, scouring sour roaring floor. When the fire for no one found someone you. Tickle trick peeling feel char so far. It played with you with your hair with your skin with your breath. But No One’s Fire is selfish. It steals. Stole your breath. It talked to you with its gaseous voice ebony voice stole your voice. Stole your breath. No One’s Fire.
Funeral pyre.

whirlwind.

whirlwinds scare me. the one going on in my head is slowing me down. i see a lot of me in it. pieces of me. so i stop to take a look. but all i get is static. my mouth waters. my ears ache. my eyes retreat behind dry lids. and twitch but can't defend myself. fighting against an unknown is scary. whirlwinds make me shiver. whirlwinds make me shake. violent seizures fist throws and hoarse screams. whirlwinds push me off a cliff. sometimes i think it's worse when i don't land brains splattered bones crushed blood guts and carnage spewed in all directions my heart ripped out and flung like just another organ. sometimes i think it's worse when i just keep falling.

3.8.08

three simple words have echoed throughout my life.

when it was happening, it was painless.

when it was happening, i was silent.

after, i saw that he had stitched into me a part that was missing.

he had used a needle with ink for thread
and had sewn into the fabric of my skin.
my neck. because my neck holds my head holds my thoughts holds myself.
the neck is the heart of the spine.

three words that have followed and lead me.

now they only reside deeper in my life.

it will be a part of me forever.
and that's what everyone says. like it's a bad thing.

i cherish it.

no tiger.

there's gotta be more than what i'm seeing here
i feel like i'm standing outside a museum
and my whole life is the main exhibition
my whole life is on display to anyone willing to pay $8 to see someone ele's idea of art
i cock my head to one side and the furrow returns to my forehead
my lips purse and i just know that when i'm 50 i'll have lines streching out in all directions
there just has to be something more
i have to force myself to be creative
they're looking at me break out of my shell
the sinewy strands of birth fluid streching and breaking as i push out
gasp for a breath of air filling my lungs and pushing fluid out
gasp for a breath of air filling my lungs and pushing fluid out
gasp for a breath of air filling my lungs and pushing fluid out
i put my head back and roll my spine my neck feels like its healing from a break in mere seconds
i want to roar but i'm no tiger
that's just one thought
here's plenty more where i came from
arms thrust and now i know i'm schizometric
i have to bite my lips so many times to stop from saying something i mean but have already said too many times before

where: the valley of crowns. when: a lifetime ago. what: just a passenger.

I see my life being ripped apart at the seams. Beautiful fabric woven with gold and purple threads, laced with black and covered in shooting stars and smooth, smooth bones. I see my life being ripped apart at the seams. Fingers like spiders' legs working furiously and tearing apart. Thread strains, snaps, and curls backward. My Life Dress is unraveling. It is being pulled apart by its seams. I see my dress of sky and skin ripping apart. The holes gape open like dead mouths and moan at me. I see my dress of breakable things. It's not the way it used to be.