a secret

when we were in middle school i was really annoyed one day and i wished we would lose touch. after our friendship grew stronger i hated myself for wishing that but put it in the back of my mind. now that it's happening i can only wish that i will be more important than other plans and cities

family

i went christmas shopping with my dad. i played the quietest cd mix i have for the drive to the mall (because he says that some of the singers i listen to sound like they are on fire). he told me his favorite order of pets. We have 5. Before I tell you the order he chose, here is some background information about this ark of pets:

Harlow, the forever short and stout english lab. she looks like a puppy, always. when you come home it is the most exciting thing that has ever happened to her, every time. she must put something in her mouth in order to show you just how excited she is/to present something to you. this means mouthfuls of mud and leaves if mud and leaves are nearby. her mouth shows no mercy. often times there will be a shredded something on the stairs to the front door. shredded package, shredded pillow. destroyed hairbrush, splintered fragments everywhere. hacked up shoe. something you didnt even consider appealing or chewable to a dog, such as: my mom's blue tooth. will chew everything in her path if in reach, but she is so fucking adorable none of this matters. she is known for her ass wiggle and sticking out her paw as if to shake your hand. quickly wants to leave the room if you dont pay attention to her. does not understand you not wanting to pay attention to her. she will also try to escape out of the gate when you are leaving and then proceeds to circle the car because she thinks were going to take her somewhere fun.

Luna, the strange and awkward mix of Australian shephard and German shephard. stuck in the teenage body of a dog. she used to pee everytime i came home. i dont know what changed but occasionally on some very weird occurrence she will leave behind a puddle of her confusing joy. she is quiet and eats delicately. she will also lick your face off, aiming specifically for your mouth. she is obedient and sometimes stares at you creepily. once you stop paying attention to her she will lose all sense of this obedience and move about spastically until you clap/snap/ weird combination of sounds and tell her to go away. her eyes have the longing look of a sibling that always comes in second.

Black and White Cat- yes, that is his name because we couldn't think of names for the cats when I was in sixth grade. always around. can be found sleeping in most rooms of the house. perpetually frightened. runs away everytime my boyfriend enters the room. huge eyes and tuxedo patterned fur. any sudden movement is good for a scare. although, when cornered he can hold his ground by swatting paws and growling. sometimes we mistake him for Black Cat when we see his tail but when he turns around to reveal his big terrified eyes, we are disappointed he is not Black Cat.

Black Cat, a badass. affectionate and adventurous. looks like a mini mini panther. used to come home with all kinds of scars on his head from cat battling. all healed now except for a small mike tyson piece of his ear missing. the kind of cat you can push down to pet and rub his belly. sometimes he makes rare appearances, and when he does it always a delight. he enjoys the company of his family. has the air of a cat veteran. he will not make friends with Phoenix, but is patient with him.

Phoenix- an orange bag of fluff. possibly one of the prettiest cats i've seen but a serious attitude sometimes. he roams about as he pleases but is often found sleeping in the dog bed or my mother's chair, or waiting at the food bowl. somehow, he is always just around the corner. he tries to attack harlow. tries to befriend Black Cat. his extremely fluffy tail reminds me of a phoenix's long swooping tail. because he can be so whiny it only makes you want to capture him more. he was much sweeter as a kitten, but once he discovered independence he'd never go back
.
Jake, not really our pet but, basically. enormous lab/retriever mix. giant head and mouth, but he is still a baby at heart. skittish sometimes. any loud sound and he is the first to run away. any strange placement of furniture or even grocery bags and he will not walk around them, he will just look at them timidly. yawns very loudly. puts his head on your lap when youre eating. has one of the best begging faces ive seen. lumbers around our yard. destroys toys in record time. gets very excited about new toys, he even has a special prancing dance ritual that he does around the new sacrifice. expressive small brown eyes. sleeps a lot. tries to sleep while harlow chews on his face. our "grandchild"

my dad says, "my favorite pets are in the order as follows"
1. Black Cat
2. Jake
3. Phoenix (almost a tie with Jake)

merry christmas

do you know why i love you so much?
it's because i can take a shower with you
no i dont mean those sexy showers
that just smudge your mascara
that you share with someone to show that you're fun
and you're exciting & don't mind messing yourself up a bit
i mean a real shower with real love
really naked and really loved
face scrubbing
prickly shaving
toothpaste foaming
beautiful.

I had no idea. I'm so sorry. I stumbled across this information. She bought my birthday present when you didnt have enough time to. It was an unfortunate looking tassel purse with lipgloss and the edited version of the 8 mile soundtrack inside of it. I remember she would always catch you in your bullshit- like that time we made a huge mess in your bathroom back when you lived in Lafayette. We left tooth paste & toilet paper everywhere and you blamed it on your dad-as if he would just go in there and fuck it up and leave it that way. Your mom said "Bullshit! Clean this up!" I have that very clear memory of her. She wouldn't take your crap.  I see her smoking by the pool and laughing.

cry to be close

in some ways, you are as hard as the bricks your father has built around you
i know when your cynicism hatches into your thoughts
but ive seen you cry with rolling credits across your face
ive felt your lungs break when i asked if you were okay
ive seen your eyes and your trust hang to the floor
i saw the makeup roll off your face when you told me you were afraid to be close
i know when your anger starts to melt into drops
i know when art overwhelms your soul
i know the hand that wrings my own heart
when i see rivers slide down your jaw
because your heart plays music
for only a privileged few
it plays louder
than your father's negativity
and it bursts through
the bricks around you

sometimes i rhyme

tell me about this "fuck love" attitude
love is what we never fully understand
it is beyond the dimension in which we stand
but people try to make it flat for you.
now tell me about this "fuck love" attitude
fuck complaints, strains, and demands
fuck whys and becauses, what did i do
fuck dying dreams, i give up, meant to bes
fuck i dont have the time, i wasnt thinking
fuck internal tortures, the distance overseas
fuck the lacking, the tired, the sinking
fuck hormones, chemicals, and nerves
fuck i told yous and you got what you deserves
fuck the memories built above
but never, never, fuck love.

im not sure if you read this.

i used to read your livejournal all the time, when you wrote in it.

i was always interested in what you had to say, whatever it was about.

we have separate lives but we're always right near each other

i see you riding your bike down the street

but you're too fast for me

i see pictures of you with lots of people and it makes me smile but

it's been too long my friend

you don't know what's going on with me

and i don't know what's going on with you

there's too much to talk about

and i dont know why im afraid to say hello

The first thing I noticed
and how could I not,
when you came back to me
was your enormous boots.
you came barreling down my stairs
and despite all of the built up words
anchored in my chest,
despite all the mixture of love and doubt
creating their own universe in my head,
despite the unresolved rusting between us,
all i could think was:
"look at those giant boots!"
after we had said everything with eyes and
daring hands,
i decided your boots should leave
because i love you but my mother grew this heart.
but when you kissed me goodnight
the tight laces you had tied
unraveled and opened
the tongues peeled and unfolded,
and in the morning i saw
enormous boots
looking back at me.

One Sided Rush

(Not about Blaine)

I'm hesitant to tell you at first,
if you buy too much meat it will spoil,
but, i tell you because
we've told each other things for years.
my face is flush with a kiss,
my eyes are round with promises,
my hands fly in recollection;
i tell you all about it.
but the more i say,
the more you can tell
that my blood is pumping quicker
than the focus of its speed.
im realizing,
but im feeling so fast,
im feeling so caught in the wind,
it all becomes blurry,
but you're sitting there,
watching me,
and you know.

tv is always on. im trying to read with conversations in my head. im trying to read.not listen, read.but its through a wall. i want to smash the tv. through the wall. like the koolaid guy.no more fucking commercials.OH YEAH!
ear plugs are an investment. its so loud.unnecessarily loud. blaine feels it when its been left on even when there is no sound. just background noise.just distraction. whatre you trying to say shakespeare? you have reality tv shows in your face. i cant read with one ear. with half a brain. FOR A LIMITED TIME ONLY AT CHILIS. fuck. out the window there you go. pieces of smashed technology that will startle the guy who's always looking through our recycling bins. he has lots of cans, but no tv probably. FIVE DOLLAR FOOTLONG. i remember that episode of the Simpsons where sideshow bob tries to destroy television. i cant watch tv while i read. i cant. i cant.
but i can type

but this...

write in here when you're upset. when you're feeling emotional. when your feeling is feeling too much. write to keep in touch. write to touch what you can't touch. to make feelings that are feeling too much in touch.
but dont beat yourself up too much
but dont beat yourself up too much

LIGHTS -pretty dim

I don't know why I hate this singer so much. I've only heard this one song. part of it might be her hair. and her voice. and the lacking depth. she's pretty and all but there's no soul to the song. maybe i also hate that she has a music video and a big following and she is easily imitated. blaine and i want to sing songs together and i think we could. that would be nii---iiii---iiiiice.
LIGHTS - "Ice" Official Music Video

LIGHTS | MySpace Music Videos

i feel lame for always wanting to see you.

How do you fit

Once we had a smaller bed
my mother would look at it and say:
"How do you fit!"
but in our shoe box of lust
our limbs were puzzle pieces
and it all made sense to us.
now when i'm smushed into a sliver
and i feel your breath on my back
with miles of mattress behind you
i can only smile and laugh.

splitting the atom of devotion

sometimes i cut up your words so much
that i cant even see their true shape
i cant even pick them up
and make something of them
i dont want to love you with a magnifying glass
i dont want to love you with dull knives
but every so often this diced diction
dwells in my own throat
"did you use too much of this or not enough of that"
and i dont want to make your blood boil
or my own for that matter
so after i look too deep
i try to look far
and your words are still there
growing how they ought to be
fresh and full and poison free

except

i have these books that i judged by the cover
because the pages were blank so i felt it was justified
and i hoped i would fill the insides with beautiful
because i would like to think life is that way
however, some of my best inspiration is ugly
but that's not the point
the point was that you wanted to see what was inside
because i was telling you about myself
how i like to write and all these sorts of things
and when you saw a book that was still blank to you
but not blank inside, you wanted to see
"well.." i start to say but i don't mean to end well
"maybe some other time"
because we both know poetry can't be forced.
later when we swirl around my apartment stairs
i tell you things like "i wear my heart on my sleeve"
because i think you should know.
"my feelings are hard to conceal"
and in conclusion,"i'm an open book"
but you look at me and say, "except for your book."

you can think that i don't know how to be confident
but there's always that sometimes
you can think that im lazy and thoughtless
tactless and blunt
awkward and frightened
skittish and strange
careless and reckless
but
i care
i create
i see
i speak
i feel
i may not always know how to pull a conversation out of my chest
i may not acknowledge the truth until confronted
i may
just sink into that moment of uncomfortable
with no brave head above the sand
but i promise you my love is sincere.

why do i haveta make everying a poem/happy halloween

you're telling me about your costume--a 50's dress....okay I'm thinking lady from the 50's......your blue black eye and trail of blood down your lips...ummm...
"I'm a battered wife, and so I have all these sexy bees coming up to me. Fucking sexy insects everywhere. And they come up to me like (in that kinda high pitched ringing on the e's and i's voice) "Ummmmm we were just wondering what you were?"
"I'm a house wife."
"Um...like a beat up housewife?"
"Yeah."
"Oh, okay. That's hilarious."
battered wives explaining, sexy insects flying away

I take back what I said about you. You are a wonderful teacher. You push me to be better. I look forward to your class every time. My laziness is a brick wall. I need people like you. I need to be pushed.

I remember a teacher saying to my class one time that
"Whenever a student gets a bad grade, it's always she gave me an F, he gave me a D,
but when they get a good grade it's always I got an A"

thank you for telling me what was on your mind, on your chest. i know it was hard, but i know that its harder to be happy if you dont. i have seen you grow so much since ive known you. its difficult for me to take my own advice sometimes...but you have helped me with that too. i dont want any more silent wars, so this is my silent thank you to you. but i dont plan on staying silent about it...so thanks for that too

the complications of being complicated

I make a peaceful day at the beach
into a jellyfish I thought was beautiful
but when people run screaming
I forget sometimes
that some will prefer filtered alternatives
to a stinging sea
why tangle yourself up in salt and so many fine grained details
why the complexities that roll in waves
why the dangers of sharks and eels and sting rays
so i wonder if i should keep them screaming
surprising them with fear and admiration
or should i capture the sting for a duller mass appreciation

i like troubled musicians
and not protecting my skin
i like poisoning my brain and stomach
i like sugar in my teeth and falling asleep with it there
i like testing the limits of sleep
and slapping my ear drums
i like sighing to myself
i like clouding my lungs and thoughts
i like my inability to focus on the task at hand and doing something else
i like pretending to be strong
and being weak when you dont see
i like telling you all this
yet lying all the same

LovEvolution '09

now she swallows the chemically contained
so she may be of the pleasure brained
she shades flesh spheres from the heat
and feels the pulse of love's heartbeat
and here she is tossed into altered states
and inside her sense of beauty inflates
in her heart like a balloon floating away
one she tries to catch every time and every day

change is...good?

i remember you. i heard you say i was hot in the library my junior year in high school. i smiled at this mistakenly heard information, cause i thought you were too. and the years have been kinder to you now. your skin was not so blessed..but i saw the smile and the pretty eyes. i heard you talk about bands i liked too. some of your friends were my friends. no hormones or pores would keep me from noticing these things. but now, i can see that your face is clear and your language has adapted to boring. i have to say i liked you better when you had that touch of insecurity. when you were a little more polluted i guess

truth

the thought of you not being as interested in what i have to say on here..or anywhere else saddens me

random late night blah blah

i am obsessed with people. i pay more attention to details about you than you would think. i observe you. i see you. i know you.
i am thrilled by the thought of finding other people just like me. i want to find you. i want to know you. i want to inspire you and be inspired by you.

i want to find someone who enjoys this kind of thing. this kind of i dont even know what im saying thing.
beautiful through and through. somebody that doesnt think words are just garbage. somebody that pays attention. not just in that obvious way. i mean really shutting up for a minute. i mean trying to find meaning in something that appears to have none.

that, and someone who would be chill to smoke with.

bouncing

i had a dream that i didnt know how to run
when my legs started to gather speed
i just awkwardly bounced on the ground
it was embarrassing, i thought "how do i not know how to run?"
but maybe that isnt such a bad thing

mountains

you said you don't want to live
where the mountains are
you'd like to see it all
as flat beneath the skies
clear blues and wounded grays
framed by straight lines
and forward eyes
all plain to see before you
certainly no peaks to slip down
nor tunnels to retire to
no hopes to lose balance over
no, certainly not
you told me you dont like to see them in the distance
i said, "they're not in the way, but something to aim for"
and at that you said "that's interesting"
and nothing more.

head shoulders knees and toes

i gotta hand it to you
youre really keeping me at arms length
the coldest of shoulders
spikes pain in my neck
its all in your head they say
but what about your chest
or your gut
or those legs that shake
those feet kept on toes
that ass that's fallen backwards
you can blame the sum of parts
and the parts of some
all you want

climb up and over those walls

with me please

late to class

you asked why i was late
you said you "don't do late"
and you don't like silly
you called romeo and juliet an "insipid little tragedy"
i already really don't like your class
so, I'm going to get you back by trying really hard.

Bad timing with great people

this is not completely me
or this is not completely you
we have some sorting out to do
we are curbside collections
all we need is some new
hands to pick us up
and some sorting out to do
all we need is some you
to tell us we're worth the pain

Love is

"Love is stronger than death. Passion fiercer than the grave."

"All That We Are Is The Result Of What We Have Thought. The Mind Is Everything. What We Think We Become."

strong

if you're reading this

i just want you to know
that if you ever really need to talk to me
you can
but its not up to me to make any more effort
ive given you everything that i can
ive been vulnerable and open
i defended you when i was proven wrong again
and im exhausted

im not sure any of this would have happened again
if i hadnt been the first to say I was glad you made it home safely
maybe its my own fault then.
but i wont change who i am
because if it hurts this much, i know that i really tried.

you always said i was so sweet
but all i see, all i taste is salt

oh look at you and that witty word play!

never understood the word understanding
stand under what?
what am i standing under that makes me like you
sympathetic to you?
why does sympathetic have pathetic in it
im similar to your pathetic
we stand under the same sky
underfell from it


sometimes things sound so good to me at the time...then i look at them later and say what the fuck? like this, for example

mental mechanics

when the cells have collected rust
and the spokes are sputtering
scraping and coughing
when the screws start to loosen
from their tight twists of contempt
and my lungs rattle out breaths
like old freight trains that i must believe in
i wonder if i will look into my eyes
polluted with experience
and decide that it was worth it.

to be a square is really being outside of the box when you think about it

im looking for a different bend
to these curves that follow me
so i might make a box
to contain these thoughts
and open up when
im circled, sick, and spinning
when the beginning is just the end
when i feel surrounded
and hollow at the center,
the lift of a lid
will stretch my shapes

i know unspindle is not a word, just sounded cool to me

if you let my voice unspindle
the fibers of your muscles
crack the marrow from your bones
make your organs fall at your feet
if you let it spill your spine
tear your tendons
curl your nerves
and crush your eyes
then im not very interested.

sometimes i feel like i can do anything..but other times..

ah but see the flame is too bright
it must be squished with a heel
must be blown out by other's breath
should be metallically contained
restricted by a rope
stomped, smashed, and spat out
before these burning ideas
blaze the hills into early sunrise
should be
drowned by everything
but not by you, but not by you
of course.

in pain or ecstacy

when the pills pop up my spine
disintegrate down
bones intertwined
my back hooks in rebellion
refuses to be in line
the bones slump and dissolve
and around this the stars revolve
in this selfish time of youth
until my back can't bear
my choices anymore.

i really wanted to be a mermaid

High on the rock, above the waves,
Coaxing the sailors to water filled graves,
The siren sings her solo part.
Neither the rhythm nor yet the sound
Are the waters in which the bearer is drowned
As testimony to her art.
She sings far more than a sailor can hear.
He listens once with a cynical ear
And once with an innocent heart.
Poets and writers desire such skill:
That sirenlike we work our will
On every reader's ear and heart.
-Jane Yolen

A mermaid found a swimming lad,
picked him for her own,
pressed her body, laughed;
and plunging down
forgot in cruel happiness
that even lovers drown.
-W.B. Yeats / "The Mermaid"

living in 2D

Your time is a piñata full of sand
that the past bashes at with rue
sifting through fingers and hands
its sparkle beaten out by a bat at you
status becomes the demand
no longer candy or a fake tattoo
but taxes and the value of land
that vary with the latitude.

love is what we never fully understand
when the heart reaches out in gratitude
it is beyond the dimension in which we stand
but people try to make it flat for you.

Getting My Palms Read

I tear off crescents 
from my finger nails,
watch moons fall at my feet.
I create freckled constellations
from the sun.
I destroy my own layers
with smoke & tanned vanity.
I have knuckled boulders
& peeling doubts,
crevices & paths
that might tell me something about life.
Underneath there are
rivers, a civilization
with hidden functions.
All this for
only me & what I see,
boxed in this skin of mine
housing my verse's within.
My own system,
a universe inside.

.Laura Curren.

I'm very half assed about things sometimes. but sometimes I'm very full assed. not about things with grades or credits or check marks.

Letting the cables sleep Bush
Uploaded by cramchur. -

maybe i shouldn't post things when I'm upset

now i can see your pain, i'm sorry

If I ask about it, you will probably explain it to me much better in person. but when i read it, my mind warps it into some kind of analytical trap. aren't i worth staying here for? I feel that you want me to stay. I see it when you look at me, but your words tell me something else. It's strange because most of the people that I've really loved have been all talk. but you're all action. Since the day you got back, squeezed me and lingered at my door, I knew what you meant. but when you wrote it all out, I became confused. when you told me what kind of glue your mind was in. what kind of a bind. a bind you want to run from. cross borders and break hearts for. all those things you're feeling? I feel them too.

conversation i heard my parents having

mom: I wanted you to walk through the door first because I wanted you to make sure it was fixed.
dad: And I wanted you to go first because I already fixed the door and I wanted you to see it.
mom: Bear, lets go get some pillows.
dad: How about sticks?

i can only hope for this

i read this post

"I found that when I lost someone whom I considered the woman of my dreams, that there was much to do within myself to fill that hole. But, I still repeat to myself that if my heart hangs on to her, it will never be open to another. I try to fill myself so I am whole regardless of my partner, so that eventually a new partner who also is working to fill herself will be able to appreciate and understand. We will love not out of need to fill eachother's lacking but because of how we inspire and propel eachother forward. That's the hope that keeps me going, and makes the loss seem like it really was just meant to be, so I could learn to be full in myself."

my love is deep and awkward

peace of mind. are you as unattainable as me right now?

Old Lady I Talked To Today

Your face looked like
the sourest of apples;
puckered, pickled,
angry arches.
The sourest of apples;
the one that
fell from the freight,
out of the truck,
off of a cliff.
The one that
heard its heart
break on the rocks
& decayed in defense
to this split in its core.
The one that stayed sour
by never asking for more.

i fell in love with a writer

There's a present hurt in my chest
a fragile place to make a nest
& shelter my hopes flying outwards
with a beat i have doubt towards
A vulnerability I forget every time
arising when the love climbs

You tell me:
"I don't always say the right thing"
but I'm thinking of songs we sing,
funny faces you make at me
a private parade for us to be.

I'm thinking about no words at all,
when we met at at the end of fall
waved your hand out the car door
said you would sleep on my floor

I'm thinking about quiet comfort
an understanding of some sort
that what we want is me and you
that this was what we both knew

You tell me:
"I dont always have the right words to say"
but I read something you wrote the other day
and it told me otherwise
it told me more than you realize

the best message

usually i feel like the one that makes an effort to get to know someone, it's nice to know people are still interested in getting to know me

yes I'm sad. yes, I'm hurt. I keep putting my heart out there and i tend to give the whole thing away when I feel I've met someone special enough. and while it's tempting to say fuck you to everybody and put up walls, I refuse. cliches are so appropriate right now. just be yourself, just be yourself. there is someone out there that will love you for you, wholly you. every last goddamn habit, quirk, gesture, expression. there is. don't tell me that's a fairytale. don't tell me you don't believe in love.

up for it

chin up, cheer up,
felt up, check up,
follow up, prop up,
cough up, grow up,
throw up, give up,
live up, sit up,
shut up, fuck up,
so many verbs
close to this direction,
and the hardest one
to do is get up.

everything i was worried about, happened. everything i hoped wouldn't, did. what i built. what i tried to make. what i knew would break. what i knew would hurt. i knew this all.

in a nutshell.

crazy.passionate.caring.jealous.witty.impulsive.creative.expressive.
quiet.shy.loud.contradicting.hypocritical.blunt.selfish.indulgent.
optimistic.lazy.fiery.silly.artistic.protective.crude.confused.
intelligent.perceptive.oblivious.reflective.morbid.emotional.
sensitive.harsh.loving.untimely.unorganized.awkward.restless.
defensive.forgiving.unexpected.lucky.insatiable.complex.comforting.

how is one in sane?
i want to be outsane.
everything not in.
outwards.
out of the wards.
an idea so insane;
to show the insides
when in pain.

2 am traffic

The stereo was silent and we slowed to chaos.
There were invisible red lights
and impatient steering snaking up the sides.
Oh you want to escape too?
There were nervous trucks that couldn't dance with other cars.
There was opportunity's sour ugly sister
meeting a man that stepped out of his car to
hiss paint on the walls containing this mess.
The music was off and we slowed our minds.
The couple inside of a metal box
spilling our hearts and guts privately.
The man gets out again
to spray his mind on the bricks.
Beyond all this there are sirens
and less freshly graffiti-ed walls
surrounding a spit up wad of engineering.

fountain of you

did you look too beautiful today
was it too hard to sleep comfortably
were the winds inconvenient
did your long hair snap at your face
did your young skin burn and peel
are the dark circles from pleasure
are the calories only a suggestion
do you ponder the meaning of life while avoiding it
do you end in a question or...maybe nevermind
do you have bottled waters and hills to climb
do you have grains of sweet stuck in your teeth
do you have a sugary grin &
dreamy red eyes
reflecting in glass
telling you this is all for now
this is all there is, this is it
this is you and me

i don't know what to do.

"Writing began to give them wings with which to hover above the confounding maze of their lives, the better to see the patterns, the dead ends, and a way out."

personally

It's hard not to take it all personally.
It's hard not to carry a shovel
on my brain's back.
Hard not to mimic the metal
of the shovel I carry,
to dig for what, I'm not sure.
It's hard not to fall into
my own pores.
Personally, it's hard not to take it all.

baby you said you have love handles (but i think you look good)

id love to handle you

handle your love

grab your skin and steer

to love and all that it handles

push and pull

and lock all your love

turn and twist

plead and insist

for your love to open for me

Dear drunk man outside my window,

drinking down something
filling up on nothing,
rummaging for the sum
of some things,
the sum of change for things
the "some things
never change" things
To some bodies
you have no body &
your sum does not equal things
so you've got nothing
& everything around you
so you've got nobody
& somebodies around you.
no mind, no matter.
you're yelling at nothing
but you're yelling at something.

suddenly i think of all the times i've heard it and the first time that I remember hearing it.

in 1st grade my class was making paper flower collages and my teacher came over to mine that had mass amounts of glue and sticky paper. she shook her head and began picking off these dripping flowers. "No, no, no, too much!"

i've always felt like i'm too much. sometimes i feel ridiculous by the things, people, whatever that affect me. that i pour my heart out and it's left just spilling sometimes. that i apologize too much, even when i don't feel it because i want a situation to be better. that im too hypocritical. lazy. whiny.... 

it's not always bad though. i like that small things get me excited. i like sometimes that my heart is bursting. i like that im too private at times, too shy. sometimes i even like that im too last minute because i prove to myself i can still accomplish things under pressure. but everyone seems to look at these things as a handicap, and yeah sometimes i feel my feet dragging too, but it's how i am, who i am. its me. im too much. but its not too bad.

what the fuck am i doing? i am so lucky.

a conversation

it all comes from insecurities
and you feel really good to me
so i worry

worry about what?

about dumb things, like when i said i think i text you too much
or that you wont want to talk to me
other girls blah blah
you make me really happy and i guess its kinda scary to be happy sometimes

well its not worth making yourself unhappy just because you are happy
yes, being happy is scary
and no one wants to have their heart broken
because deep down everyone is insecure about something
but it shouldn't stop you from enjoying things in the moment
yes, its difficult that we're far from each other
but, it hasn't changed anything
we're still the same people, still insecure about the same things
you just can't let it consume you
because it affects everything else
like school, friends, etc...
I don't want you worrying about me
because it makes me worry that you're worrying
and then we both have problems that can weaken us
and I'm sure part of the reason you worry is because I'm not doing a good enough job to keep you from worrying
I know sometimes I don't say the right things
or respond the right way
or say what you would want me to say
but, you have to understand
I still care for you
I still miss you
I still love and want to talk to you
I'm just not perfect and never will be
but its apart of who I am
and in some way keeps us together

i love you and i love our non perfectness
this is me jumping ahead of myself
sometimes you say exactly the right thing
and you know just what to do to make me feel better
and you know i was thinking of you and you surprise me and see me
its because of all that i worry about losing you sometimes
its natural
if i didnt think about it, or get hurt by the thought i dont think i would be in love
i just need to be reassured sometimes, even if i know all this that you told me
i just need to hear it from you sometimes
i know its better to tell you but i do also want to enjoy myself. when im with you i really dont worry
i have fun with you and enjoy the time and we communicate without having to really, but its hard for me when youre far liek you said and it doesnt change any of my feelings for you either i guess i just need to hear those things sometimes when you are away
its weird to say, but i feel more myself when youre around
9:13 PM
I think this is where we have sex

haha
and this is why i love you

cause I like sex?

fool

not finished..but working on it

"Do you mind?"
"Nope" he said smugly sucking in sparks of red and then blowing smoke directly into her window. Yes he was in fact the one brewing the swirl of smoke, but this was also partially the window's fault. College is supposed to prepare students for "the real world" but apparently college is also prepared for the "real world" to already be apart of students. Hence the suicide proof windows; they only open as a hopeless crack. Who's to say that that little metal latch can't be broken off though? Nothing a screwdriver can't handle. With some pills. Either way the window jump driven will find a way to spill their guts. but thats not what life's about. it's about something as unpleasant as a cloud of carcinogens making its charming web in a new window.
"You don't have to be rude. Your smoke is getting all over my stuff and I don't want to smell like an ashtray."
"I hear Febreeze eliminates 99% of odors"
"I hear Febreeze doesn't spray the cancer out of your lungs and that
people who blow smoke into other peoples rooms are assholes"
"I haven't heard that."
"Maybe you should socialize more then."
"Maybe you should close your window."
"I'ts fucking hot. My room mate just threw up something that looks like some type of bird, and she spilled soda all over the fridge, and now you're blowing smoke into here so it smells like a carnival."
"So how come you're not with her? Throwing up I mean. Maybe you should socialize more then."
"I don't feel like going out."
"It's easy, just keep a lot of liquor on you. Dignity is optional and be prepared to tell people your major."
"Wise words.."
"I'm blowing knowledge into your room, that's what I'm doing."
"I think you're blowing bullshit"
"Oh quick on the draw. "
"Gotta stay prepared."
"Prepared for what? assholes like me?"
"Thought you said you hadn't heard you were an asshole."
"I've heard many things. of fools and kings."
"And do you listen to the fool or the king more?"
"I guess whatever I say you'll have already decided before i tell you, am i right?"
"I guess you're not a fool."

Makeup.

I wake up to a smeared, rougher face than the night before or a face that seems naked and crude. I examine the damage, see what needs to be done. I gloss over the battlefield. I fix the potholes with liquid cement. I photoshop my face. my eyelashes are liars, every one of them. False flushes, exagerrated eyebrows. I guess you could say I'm two faced.
It started out simple, as many addictions do. In 6th grade I always wore a hat. Always. I hated my math teacher because he made me take it off. It created a shadow on my face, it hid it but still showed it. Oh make up can do the same thing? Well then, I'll try that instead of being called "hat girl" and worrying about fancy dress situations. So I put it on, I slapped it on, I caked it on.
"Wow your skin looks so much better!" my friend said to me when I met her at the movies with my newly acquired face. Here's where it started.
So then I began to experiment. I met all the wrong colors and they broke my heart when I didn't blend in. But, I found a replacement hat.
And while I repair myself, I feel better with every brush stroke. I admire myself more with every color that does not belong to me. I only reveal myself when I am hidden. It's lonely. Seeing other girls with smooth skin and clear complexions. Girls that emerge out of water with no runny black night of the living dead eyes , no flesh colored sticky droplets. Girls that wear their hair back confidently with no borders. blank canvases that do not need paint, they simply make you say "ah this is nice" like you are in a modern art museum and you just don't question it. Girls that can go camping and go to sleep without the concern of their face falling off in the fresh air. Girls that can press up against white shirts and pillows with no anxiety. Girls that can be up close in the sun light, unweary in flourescent light, unchanged by any light.
Oh but here I am, foundation in the pool, self tanner rolling down my neck at the gym. Mascara while I sleep so you won't see. Here I am, absolutely terrified coming out of the shower when my boyfriend has decided to surprise me and drop by. Here's to every "I've never seen you without makeup" and me pretending to not have makeup on when I really do, they call it the "natural look." Here's to my confidence in various containers and packaging. Here's to my plan B when I run out. Here's to an airbrushed culture. Here's my weakness and my strength. Here's everything laid out in front of you, and on my face.
So in highschool I got a little better at it, a little more comfortable at hiding the flaws. I took notes on liquid eyeliner, on primers. I banished shine with powders that made me cough. I made sure to wipe my lips and eyebrows after I did this. And I did this every day.
In P.E. I would retreat to the bathroom after running a mile. Touch up sweat, clog my pores some more so I could just keep covering them again. and in the winter when we would watch videos about teen suicide and anorexia I would think "good thing I don't have to sweat."
One boy would say over the recovering starving girl with cotton candy hair from the 80's, "I don't get girls that are anorexic. Just feed them a frickin bagel!"
Oh, yeah, like it's that easy. Like all of her built up images of herself are just going to say screw it, I'll eat today. Like I'll just wipe off my face, fresh from the shower and go out in public. But thanks for your input.
To all you girls melting in the sun, going to the pool just to tan and not actually swim, touching up after exercise, waking up early to fix yourself so your significant other won't know, I respect you. and I am envious of the bare faced. How nice to be able to not have a drop of artificial on you, and that's brave even if you don't really think about it. But it's also brave to throw a bunch of colors on your face of all places, trying to create something of it and hope it looks good. Lady with way too much blue eye shadow and lip liner that's anything but the color of your lips, I respect you too. You're still putting your face out there. You're still trying your two toned best even though your perspective is challenged. You put it on because you feel your best when you do, even if bratty thirteen year old girls laugh at you behind your back, or, in front of your face.
I know makeup will never leave me. I know it can make red seem peach, and pale seem sun kissed. It's you, but enhanced right? I know I use it as a crutch, but I have to wonder if I would even be handicapped if I stopped using it. I love you makeup, I really do, but I hate you too.

now im not saying they should not be free

free from grammar and rhyme

that they should not reveal and unpeel

and show you the layers of what once

was formed in suggestive spit

im not saying they should not be barefoot

and be tickled and cut by the world

im saying don't gag them with abbreviations

don't pick their skin with ugly interpretations

don't crack their ribs with associations

im saying

dress them, strip them, paint them, parade them

but don't choke them, sever them,

don't bury them with your muck.

i'm saying i don't know what i'm saying

because i heard this from someone else.

it's 3 am and

i was walking back with a group of girls i met at mario's birthday party. we are the group of drunk girls coming back from a party weaving around the sidewalk, talking at the obnoxious drunk volume, and fantasizing about peeing and already being in our own beds. we're almost inside a couple of the girl's apartments, but two prowlers decide to creep up beside us too. before they can say much we have already rejected them with laughs and rolling eyes and some of the braver, more intoxicated, utilize the verbal chokehold. swear words spill around like the sloshing beer in our stomachs. more laughter, more eye rolling. rejecting, rejecting. but even after we have made it clear that the early am lurking technique does not work, they continue to walk beside us, ask why beside us, ask why they can not be beside us. but we walk ahead. we split apart and the group becomes just me and another girl. two girls and two young men that we think to be still left in the dust we kicked up on them. but we're wrong, because the moment i decide to spin around for some reason, one of their faces is much closer than i thought. i blurt out "what are you doing?" and looking at me a little less than a foot away he says, "Why was your friend so mean? Why did she say those things to us?"

i feel foolish that my heart is throwing rapid punches at my chest and im silently wondering if they can detect this. i realize im holding the other girl's hand and how i never heard his feet, i only turned my head to see he had crept up to us.

"we all have boyfriends so when you come up to us its like fuck off. we just don't like you creeping out here at 3 am, okay?" says the blonde stranger im holding hands with.

and we are both a bit weary of "fuck off" being a trigger so we try to explain ourselves with lighter words. but when we finally walk away with their eyes following our backs up the stairs we keep talking about that one moment of turning around. they begin to sound like hyenas and we are some bones walking away. hyenas laughing when we walk up the steps and my mind says what are you doing? what are you doing? we watch for them out of her window, frightened little lambs. these hyenas will laugh and they'll say "we'll huff and puff our cigarettes and we'll blow your defenses down" but we'd say "not by the buttons on our celly cell cell phones." or something like that. because im scared and thinking of strange things.

but when i am safe in my house of bricks, i still think about the possibility of my walls being blown to pieces and my shelter collapsing.

it's funny

because people say its therapeutic to write about troubling things, but i get so mentally exhausted that i don't even want to bother to spill it all out on paper. 

my excuses give me nosebleeds

they build up and burst out of my head

they surround my skull and make me run away

and wont sound meaningful till im dead

my excuses give me headaches

and rattle the peace in my sleep

they reduce me to head shakes

and im so tired i dont even want to write anymore.

one of those posts

It's one of those weeks that i can tell will be difficult.

Today I started walking to class, late, as usual, but I decided that I should go to the library to work on my sociology paper. I came out of the library and I weakly smiled at and walked right past the assistant teacher of the class I had just skipped and then I also walked right past the teacher of the class I had just skipped. I know he saw me and like an idiot I just looked away and walked by faster. yeah, just walked right by with my bright red hair. maybe he didn't know it was me. sheepish is the word of the day. I've also been so spacey that i completely forgot that my midterm for that class is due this week, so in my desperate attempts i've been trying to email classmates to see if they will help me. I hope I have some pinch of good luck with that. 

I also (without meaning to) forgot to put back the earrings i "borrowed" from my mom and with my annoying habit of just leaving things all over the place (i actually noticed I did that less when I was on medication) i'm not even sure of where i did leave them. She always has to remind me to put her things back or not take them out of the room and I don't want to be that kind of daughter.

I'm not looking forward to going to classes this week.

I still have to finish this sociology paper

I still stilllllll have to finish this sociology paper.

I hate that I don't want to talk to you. Actually today I wanted to, but it was too much to think about.

I don't understand why you mention hanging out, it absolutely baffles me. 

Sometimes I really think about going to the community college back home. I feel more comfortable there, I feel that I have more friends and focus there, and of course it'd be nice to be closer to blaine. but as much as i love my parents, now that ive had a taste of having my own room here free of family supervision...it'd be hard to give up. but i have to face it, im not doing my best here, im not trying nearly as hard as i should be and it doesnt make me feel good. 

ive flaked and been flaked on...flakity flake flake. that doesnt make me feel good either. 

I've been with/seen Blaine everyday pretty much for the last 2 weeks, and it's only monday and he doesn't have his phone. I want to complain about all these things to him but it's only Monday and he doesn't have his phone. I feel like a baby for missing him after only a couple days, but I can't help it. I know I will miss him terribly when he leaves for a month. but the fact that i have a wonderful person to miss terribly makes this a little easier to write.

you were hoping to be weightless
because you told me
"ive been crushed by hope's weight"
so the less there is you say
the more balance you have
but i tell you it's easy
to keep your spine straight
when you're lying on the ground
not expecting anything to move you

i luv u 2

all my excitement goes into the flashing of a message on a little screen in a little box
cradled in my hands because it is my child at my side that i dont leave behind and i hold its hand every chance i get because like a child it has its own brain that i send words to
and you try to understand what your own little box says and then our words float in the air but have their backs turned to each other because im not entirely sure of what they look like, though you did kind of describe them to me but maybe you dont quite see the shine in mine and then maybe i dont know the sway in the step of yours because i tend to ramble on and my thoughts get trample-stampled in a stampede of senseless endless when i really need less- chattering.

what do you call an articulate dinosaur? a thesaurus.

i look at my posts and my words look so simple

this grosses me out. (disgusts, irks, disenchants, repulses, sickens, nauseates, upsets, bothers, disturbs, piques me) 

i need to read more, i need more words. 

titles are hard to think of

my room mate lets me borrow her computer so i can type out the many things i have due....but where do i go? here. because whenever i have something that needs to be done i seem to do everything else but that.
i almost didnt, but i called you today and im glad i did.
the only thing i was really upset about losing was the video we made after the first day we met. it was only a few seconds long, but when i watched it randomly the other day i felt so glad to be where i am now. i told you im afraid of being too mushy sometimes and i know you read this sometimes so i just want you to know how nice it's been with you around and i mean every word.

because the last couple posts were negative i feel the need to be positive

so...my spring break is soon yay!

.

you say you're happy for me, but you dissect this happiness, take a part its pieces because you don't understand how it came to be. you don't see how this could all work, how things could fit and create peace and how to step back and take it all in, appreciate and experience all of it. you tell me this is all some silly machinery, because you don't know, you don't see, you don't feel it they way that i do. im brought down by trying to bring you up.

im letting it go though

i had been looking for it for awhile now,
i thought maybe i misplaced it knowing how i am and how unorganized i can be
but this was special, this was something i would never want to lose
my grandpa gave it to my grandma as a present
its beautiful and means more than just style
and i saw it in your drawer.
you don't know how special it is or what it means
or that it was my graduation present and it fits my wrist perfectly
that my grandpa didn't have much money and he bought it just for her
that i never got to meet him
you don't know that my grandma used to wear it when she was capable and smiling and took care of herself and told stories and didn't bare weight on my mom's back
you don't know how disappointed my mom would be to know that i lost it
how it still works after all these years
and if you didnt leave the drawer just a little bit open, i wouldnt have seen it
and it would never mean the same to you as it meant to me
but i saw it in your drawer and i took it back

sunday night

im listening to what i assume to be the young couple argue in the room below me
she gets annoyed when he stops to cough
and he gets annoyed that he has to make an extra effort
to keep up with a throat itchier than his
it's not when they raise their voices that i worry
or when their swear words aren't muffled by the ceiling
it's those silent pauses they have
when their minds are let loose
and theyre processing what each has just said
and they're building up responses to conversation a or b
when things that aren't said are thought of
when things aren't said
when things build to an everything
and everything is a pile of rotting words
things are a heap of not now trailing off...

today

i savored the last minutes of sleep with my boyfriend before saying goodbye

transported my new bed from lafayette up 3 flights of stairs to my room in san jose with my mother

ate lunch at the thai place across the street with my mother

went grocery shopping

worked out with my best friend

so why is it so damn hard to do my school work?

my mom said "i hope it won't be as hard for you and your brother as it was for me to figure out what i wanted to do in life"

well, shit.

oh

up the street. the one with the trees. up to comfort. up to what i came here for. up to my expectations. up to rebuild. meet all over again. become closer. then leave. winding up. back to what i feel at ease calling a home. back to where i was from before. a shelter. a bubble. i think i cant do this anymore sometimes. my words always get mixed up. that's not what i meant. what am i without my words. what am i with them. a mess of explanations.

lalaalalalal
la la
LAAAA

the news

The moisture has climbed out of her throat
and pools in the palms of her hands
that are dripping down the frame of the door
that is supporting her shock in pounds,
sliding down the frame of the door with her
to the scratchy inviting square
that prickles through cotton modesty,
that prickles through to her skin,
her skin that she has left for now,
her skin framed by the door
that is open to the air and the spears of light,
and this is all a new atmosphere
to her because she is a lump against wood,
but floating so steadily in the breeze
and all she can hear is wind chimes on the neighbor's porch,
crying out by strings,
circling melodies in the wind,
clanging chaos and harmony all at once

heart shaped box

thanks kaity for finding this


great cover..i love it

i need to

unplug

after i kissed you goodbye

I had the kind of sigh
that is everything at once,
a breath that rattles by
and encapsulates the months,
a breath that brings to light
what has been and what might be,
that for now all is right
with life
momentarily.

not a poem

i feel so intensely about everything sometimes
and im so overwhelmed by all of it
that i have to remember my lungs .
im looking for other ways to be calm.
i look at other people that seem this calm.
i try to absorb some peace.
i seem to absorb everything else that's around me.
at times im thankful for this and that im not a zombie,
but other times that seems pretty nice.
my friend said to me tonight "dont be sad"
i said i wasnt, im just everything and too much of it and
i dont know how to channel it,
i dont know how to make you understand.

dot dot dot

i dont contact some people for awhile
to see if they will contact me
and then if its been awhile
i start to think
are they doing the same to me?

but i tend to "crack"
because i was trying to be "strong"
and i wonder if anything would be said
if i hadn't said it first


i like to be direct
lay it all out there
but i get tired of that

sometimes
i just wanna be figured out

eye

if you're
afraid to be
the sting
in its site,

intrusive
eyelash
plucked from its
vision,

to be cast
aside
by the wave
of hand
'cross your skies

and you're
trying to
dissolve
away in
quiet white

then youre
already
lost in
its sinking
black pit

and you'll
never know
the passion
bred by
discomfort

: )

you make me feel pretty.

uhhh

nope.

these are old.

'05-'06?

Easing to the side, parks her car,
8:45 a.m.
For she has found resolution,
and the absolute beauty of
merging onto the right hand shoulder.
Sits in the last adjustable seat of trial,
exiting words the polished name of her son.
Hoping to be saved by speeding closure,
had this appointment all her life.
Steps out in the road,
and well the bus driver-
the last excitement he found
was the pickle in his sandwich
purchased at the deli by his wife
(he's allergic to pickles,
he swears she's trying to kill him),
promptly hits this resolved woman at 8:48 a.m.
And as the smoke curls out of this giant hearse,
he realizes they were both right on schedule.


'04

Oh honey I'm just lonely.
I have you here,
But it doesn't seem
to make any difference.
As useful as a picture in a frame,
I can't breathe life through the glass.
They say it's a stab to the heart,
but i don't believe so.
It wasn't easing a knife in,
it was pulling one out.
All of it was one sleek blade,
sharpened to the tip,
carefully held in,
loosening every so often,
until it was plucked out.
The shock of its absence
made me faint.
Oh honey I'm just lonely.

indeed

i'd like to be your muse.

lmfwknjegds

10/19/07

When this dull quiet comes to pull at my eyes,

And these late hours strangle my thoughts,

I cant help but think of what condition you are in.

Are you so tangled in old doubts,

That you cant bear to breathe freely?

Are your edges so prickled,

That no hand of hope can smooth them?

Have you fallen down my ribs,

and been bruised by every bone?

Have you slipped into that vague pit,

Where fragile wings of past land on you,

But never flutter just the same?

And when your song never plays just as fast,

I wonder if you will slump further down,

Until i am walking on you

Like some tired piece of gum,

Hoping you will be stuck to someone else.

1/19/09

my heart decided to leave one day,
shriveled and shrank in its porcelain cave,
squeezed down canals of pleasure and pain,
it wanted to travel this world of skeletal frame.
down its twisted paths with hesitant eyes
but growing bigger and bursting at the sides
by soaking up knowledge the further it went,
flowing warmth to colder continents;
hands and feet and corners of mind
discovering who it was and of its kind.
pumping back up ladders of bone
and returning back to its home.

fleeting

Hi I'm
& you're
we should
sometime
& we'll
& then
become
& after awhile
if you're
& I'm
then we'll
but if
then it was
undone
& I'm
& you're
we used to
before.

i wish

that i didn't care so much sometimes.

looking back

I remember being in love with you
quietly 
yet bursting out of me.
I remember when we talked about relationships;
you told me about 
the girl who wanted too much of you,
& settled for bottle labels
when she couldn't claim you with her own,
the girl who sought the looks you gave her in other faces,
the friend you had always loved but couldn't have.
I felt like telling you that it would all be okay eventually,
that you would find somebody amazing & wonderful
& a world of overused adjectives
that can't really describe just how beautiful they truly are
but you said “I really don’t care.”
I replied without much thought, “that’s all I care about.”
& I knew you would never be mine.

21

these colors swirl around me;

in my stomach,

in my mind,

stolen from my skin.

running ink,

asleep at the climax,

extreme daylight savings.

just one more, not enough.

no patience,

no control,

enough to bruise,

enough to never be,

only a loss of memory.