Hazel Target

Reply to Someone Else's Problem in Writing JoeUser Forums

Thanks. She's my roommate, as it happens. She drinks a bit much.

Home in Poetry JoeUser Forums

I used to believe love was a star, a radiating globe of energy; of cold blue light and red hot passion and every spectrum in between. --That when it expired, whether in a brilliant apocolype of destruction or a slow burn to irrelevance or a permanent implosion, there was nothing but to search the universe over for another;

Reply to You Would Think Misery was an Easy Lesson in Dating JoeUser Forums

JP--Just to make one thing clear, I didn't mean what I said in a masochistic way. Not that I don't have a streak of masochism; I just know its place. In my experience, my problem is usually pushing away misery too quickly, not embracing it too tightly. I feel that I have the mental fortitude to push it away, but I think my best hope of healing is in allowing myself to hurt. It hurts because something's wrong, you know? So I don't want to j

You Would Think Misery was an Easy Lesson in Dating JoeUser Forums

It came to me today that I have no idea how to be miserable. Most of the time, I feel just fine. When good things happen I am happy. When sad things happen I am sad. And the fact that I have loved and lost never seems to register; whatever inner tragedy I have suffered crashes futile against the rocks. I see no difference between my life with and my life without.

Someone Else's Problem in Writing JoeUser Forums

Her beauty is not mine and so it fades without protest; is sanded down to desert as I fain disinterest. She sleeps away her folly and in silence I agree, for my claim on her is lesser than the claim she has on me. If she wastes away in darkness who would dare assign me blame? It is not my place to shine

Rough Night in Poetry JoeUser Forums

what are tears to me I do not cry say cry me a river cry me an ocean but the ocean is here and it pounds into my head relentless the weakest point a hairline fracture a single salty drop to betray the hurricane.

Sleep in Indecision in Poetry JoeUser Forums

I don't dare succumb to the allure of optimism. I would rather trust the wheel to fate as my spine tremors with want than pay tribute to consequence, but futures hurtle ignorant of my want or even my being. So I do "the right thing," except for a moment every night when I do what I must for sleep to come.<!--

Chop-block Dignity in Poetry JoeUser Forums

There is a dignity to the chopping block; a weight to the carriage of one whose life will end with the terrifying swiftness of birth. How I wish for once those broken hearts would watch me with such tearful intensity that a lifetime could be redeemed in a moment. How different is the sickening crack of decision as if life had brok

First and Last Letter in Poetry JoeUser Forums

I never sent you the first letter I wrote I was young it was foolish I was foolish And the things it said weren't even true although they became true later. But I didn't have dreams I had holes and you weren't fulfilling you were filling me so yes I left but I was also broken again, but this time tragicly aware. So it was not

Drowning Heaven in Poetry JoeUser Forums

Is heaven is just the child of my human desparation a tiny gasping infant, blue veined with shaking fists eternally smothered by my guilt? I have to believe for the sore-eyed nights to pass; I have to believe to endure the bright tears and sad-eyed beauty as you turn away. I would trade in the hope of heaven<BR

a Broken Heart in Poetry JoeUser Forums

I think I'm finally sick of the heart being broken or maybe I've just realized that the "heart" is just a token (if it really was a heart, honey, there's no second breaking; if it happens twice that means that the first time you were faking) and I know it hurts (hell yeah it does) I know it blows (the hell you do)<

Remote in Poetry JoeUser Forums

I stood on the Northern tip of my continent; and you on the Souther tip of yours, as if they were rafts, floating apart just faster than we could swim. My subconscious mantra (begging all my life: please, please, please) lifted leaded feet and I dove, sinking like rotten wood. But the mind is simply<BR

Monochrome Rainbow in Poetry JoeUser Forums

You know (don't you, my friend?) that life is not the house down the street (with blueberry blue siding and a white wraparound porch) nor is it the threadbare condo with its whitewashed walls and linoleum floors. It is your attic, or your basement, bare wires poised to punish your careless groping.

Reply to Do Husbands & Wives *Make Out*? in Personal Relationships JoeUser Forums

I wouldn't suggest putting the transcript of this blog in his birthday card.

Reply to Do Husbands & Wives *Make Out*? in Personal Relationships JoeUser Forums

I'm not married, but I think anybody that has had a few years of experience between them and their first kiss have a handle on the question. I personally was disappointed with the whole experience of kissing. Throughout my "learning curve," I consistently got more and more "skilled," expecting to discover some fundamental element that makes it the breathtaking experience people talked about. It never came. Not that I didn't enjoy i

Fair-feathered Friend in Poetry JoeUser Forums

Oh, you floundering fool, full of "shit happens" and full of shit in general-- your early-bird steps never wake me so adjacent nothing may always take me by surprise, just like the scurvy flight of fancy we turned out to be, alternately licking and scratching our wounds, dusty feathers gray with color scattered

Reply to You Are in Poetry JoeUser Forums

Some of this poem was shamelessly self-indulgent, and hence a touch esoteric. Here's a brief look at the more superficial meanings. You are an infinite imprecision-- a caulk-consolation for my scabbed handful of needs. This strophe intended to portray a relationship that is based, not on adding to life's pleasures, but on making life bearable so that what is already extant can be enjoyed. And

You Are in Poetry JoeUser Forums

You are an infinite imprecision-- a caulk-consolation for my scabbed handful of needs. And the swelling bottle-reality is not "and" but "or" I suppose. (I accept booleans as they come.) You are a paper monument in my mind, but I never blanch, knowing somewhere the true granite rises impregnable.

Reply to Retreat in Poetry JoeUser Forums

Thanks, Buddah. Your encouragement is appreciated.

Retreat in Poetry JoeUser Forums

A half dozen pairs of pinned-up dimples plotted graceful retreat, squandered every hoarded ounce of resolve. From ear to ear I drifted until I finally left griping behind, accustomed to the sudden slackness of muscle no longer braced with interest. Instead I obsessed silently as a plant might fixate on water. As a cadaver m

Reply to Armchair in Poetry JoeUser Forums

Thanks, Buddah.

Missing You in Dating JoeUser Forums

Missing you is a funny thing. Part of it is like having a wallpaper of you on the desktop of my head. Whenever I close everything down to switch tasks, there you are. Hi Jess, I miss you. And other times it is completely, radically different. It's like claustrophobia; you know there's air all around you and you know you can move and you know there's plenty of spa

Armchair in Poetry JoeUser Forums

She sits upon her beauty as if it were a favorite armchair; no longer a brilliant novelty from a biological furniture outlet but rather a fast friend, old as the peremptory mistress with which it came. And what man could help but swallow reality in shots and revel in the impossible which sprung a dizzy surprise (like At

Reply to I Need To Get Over My Shyness in Blogging JoeUser Forums

Don't nights like that leave you with a good feeling? Those are good to have now and then. And by "now and then," I mean "as frequently as possible." The Hazel Target

Reply to Another year older in Misc JoeUser Forums

It's interesting to note the difference in how birthdays are observed in various parts of the world. In the United States, birthdays stop mattering after a certain age; whereas in Europe, birthdays are a really big deal, and stay a really big deal. I think it's less because there's something specific to celebrate and more because it helps to have something to look forward to. As life passes as fewer things are novelties, it's nice to know that there