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.