i dream all the time
so reality is not serious to me unless someone points it out
im mad at people for making goals into tangible objects
and im mad because i dont know what my goals are
i have no sense of direction, only the directions i see other people going

the other night blaine and i were up at grizzly peak surrounded in our own smoke, good music, and good moods. the winter fog had not touched this night and we could see all of the bay twinkling bright and rushing by. when we left, the lights of the city striped past us as we went down the winding roads of the peak (have to go through some shit to get to some good shit i guess, roughly stated). but when we arrived at the bottom of the snaking streets i noticed the red glow of warning; flares spread along the ground and i thought maybe an accident ahead-no an accident right here! inches away from the car, we had better slow down because there is a car right here! flipped over right here! oh my god this just happened "That just happened!" Blaine explains to reaffirm my thoughts. oh my god this happens all the time. glass trickled down from the driver's window. "There's someone still in there!" this happens all the time oh my god. that car is completely flipped over..this happens all the time. my chest is thick and as surprised as i am to be this close to something like this tears puddle in my eyes and its a clear night but im blurry and the flares are so red and smeared and i can't breathe and this happens all the time. "Baby pull over, let me drive" but why cry why be upset this is not me upside down in broken glass. this is not me. but it could be. it happens all the time. breathe breathe breathe. it happens.

well fuck

i was brewing the coffee at work
and a veteran employee, alfonso,
asked me when i was going back to school
i shake out the grounds and say "hopefully in the fall"
and he looks me in my tired early morning eyes and says
"there's no future here"
and i pour my education down the drain every minute im here

i try to write about life in a beautiful way
but sometimes it just isn't attractive
sometimes the unexpected will pull at your thoughts
and you cant help but drown in your own head
sometimes it isnt fair and chances are cruel
and you take your anger out on small things disguised as larger things
but that a touch
a look, a sentiment,
could start the path to feeling better,
that by being there you say to someone
the struggles you carry are for you and you alone,
your mind is your own
but i will relate with you
i will help you, i will love you
i will be someone in your life
i will try to show you how beautiful you are

i could be like one of those writers ive read about that never publishes any of their stuff and becomes famous after death and then becomes studied and printed in a book that students like me have read.
or i could be that lazy bitch that never publishes any of her stuff.

i play songs for you
and here is my mating call
i hope my ipod selection turns you on
i hope you'll let me scroll what you got too
i hope you dont mind me taking a peek
to figure out if those tastes match your physique
see if you know about sounds i dont know
if you pirate this treasure
cause you need to listen to it now now now
if you talk to me through an art,
we can get vulnerable and deep if you want.
you can tell me about the songs you like when youre not feelin right.
we can try to play emotions if we cant play words
& light up that part of the brain, make it sway and sing
we can know each other without saying a thing
if you be the love to your music and the music to my love

you look like something
i could idealize
someone i could -unrealicize
something i put too much thought into
before it ever is anything
the thoughts that would send most people away
but keeps the right ones curious enough to stay

talk

break down my wall of mundane
my "hi-how-are-you-dont-even-bother-to-hear-the-answer"
smash the window of lazy emotions
my "i dont want to deal with feelings right now,
just let the day pass,
not speaking any meaning,
moving about aimlessly,
until we realize our thoughts have dried up,"
smash that right into pieces.
shake the shoulders of my heart
and say, snap out of it!
those lungs are moving,
those eyes are telling,
words are to be exercised and stretched
they are to be shaped and
they are for you and me
so use them expressively

i get lonely sometimes
not solely because i dont have company
i like to be alone
i breathe alone
i see alone
but sometimes
i feel it
for the world,
i know its full of people and everything,
but
that means theres always somebody sighing out there

rotten

you complain about something every time you come into the store.
its the tomatoes mostly
they arent red enough
not the right texture
they are on the side, not on the bagel
even though you eat them on your bagel
they are too large, too cold
there are not enough;
"I don't know what they've told you, but i usually get three slices"
everyone else gets two, but you get three
three tomato slices that seven times out of ten will probably rot in the trash
ive asked you several times if youd like to pick out your own tomatoes
and you have, analytically, critically.
ive thrown out hundreds of slices in your name,
decimated crops for your fussy pleasure
i display the slices and i hold my tongue
because inside i would like to ask you a lot of questions
that have nothing to do with tomatoes
they're fucking tomatoes.
one can only wonder what your life is like

a train of thought

if i ripped your life away
if i held the axe of time
would you be able to tell me why
i should not cut the threads of memories
could you tell me why this very hour means something
to you
to me
could you tell me why i should keep standing here?
and should you say no
then i would guess that something has already been torn from you
something has already sliced the strands of hope
perhaps you loved life with a fierce intensity
the kind of love that falls on its knees
and never breathes when plucked up

a debate

The hand holds the pen in one very decisive position
It is trapped under the spell of the index and thumb
and usually the ink contained is held by one hand
right or left
your writing, however, can be as disobedient as it wants
It can cause a fuss, it can curl, it can not be seen
It can be sharp and short, invisible, obnoxious, pretentious,
absurd, genuine, expressive
I look at my bouncing fingertips when I type this
My fingers communicate against machine
They slap buttons and touch screens
They sprawl out wild, but not to stray from keys
Keys that speak the perspective of me
I can change the color and the style
I can delete and space my thoughts
I could delete this all and you wouldn't know
but if I wrote something by hand,
You would see there was something that was supposed to not supposed to be there
something mistaken
something left out
something disregarded
something feared
perhaps a realization
a special turned un-special ocassion
a number, a name, a secret, a forgotten game,
unnecessary grocery items,
unnecessary blood clot of ink
this crossing out
this scrambling is a small grave
for what mightve been
but the afterlife of the machine,
where is that?

i type so fast. i grew up and the internet just started happening. i got harrassed online when i was 11. aol creepers asking me about my private thoughts. a random person full of hatred came at me in caps. i remember books for research. but now this jsut wont do. its just too much to do. its too much. today i ran on a belt that runs for me. it operated by wires and machinery. here i am typing on my bed because my computer is portable. here i am raving in my head and broadcasting to who knows because my world is portable. my iphone knows where i am. it can tell me how to get to the washington monument and tell me about it too. it can count my calories.
it can
but what can i?

i pour the drinks of my choice.
i know my favorite dishes.
i select the scents I am stirred by.
i create laughter when i start to sink.
i set my sights.
i discover my desires with time.
i age and find ways to reinvent the bones ive been carrying around.
i sweat in shallow attempts.
i ask for time in all sorts of ways, especially for myself.
i curl up and embrace myself on harder days.
i choose the sexy dress.
i choose my sleep,
my art, my dreams.
i choose with all choices in mind.
only i can turn me on.
i tell these muscles to move.
i say what makes me coy or bold.
i hold the love to let you love me.
i smile at my reflection when its right.
i provide the touch that will tell you how.
i breathe deep and steady
and really listen to the chaos in my head.
i keep my happiness in mind.
so yes, you could say that I'm in love with myself.

today i met a woman in her 70's who had had a heart transplant. she has the heart of a fifteen year old girl who died in a car accident. the mother of this girl said that she loved pepsi and pot. the newly alive woman began to drink a good amount of pepsi until the noticeable weight difference made her want to stop. i didn't ask about the pot. she said she now wakes up with no pain, none of the aches that come with age. she's got teenage energy. she has a piece of someone's life inside of her own. her body accepted this foreign wealth of life. her heart beats and beats courtesy of a girl with no pulse and no need for a heart anymore. you're born and you die. you live until you die. and death can breed life and life keeps blowing my mind

a dark chapter

i wasn't eating very much. i had the idea that if i just ate a pickle here and there to curb my appetite i could go by without eating much. i enjoy pickles; theyre zesty and snappy and the taste lingers on your tongue for long enough to distract you from hunger. so i ate pickles. i ate pickles and my pelvis began to stick out more. i was proud of my loose pants. i just wanted to look good. i wanted arms that looked long and thin in pictures. i wanted the teenage fat from my cheeks to dissolve. i wanted you to turn your head away from an ever absorbing computer screen. i wanted to be sexy, to be wanted, to be lusted for. but i was empty. no pickles could save me. i was hungry and tired. i had no energy. but i was really tan! and thin! and fuck did my eye makeup look good! my hair dresser told me how fabulous i looked and i smiled a miserable smile. a smile for all the wrong reasons. i think that was the smile i always had for you. everything wrong but looking pretty. looking polished. "gosh, she looks really good, has she lost weight?" so why dont you rip your eyes away from that screen. that fucking mindless screen. i dont care what level you are, what your character has done in a virtual world that won't have sex with you. i am right here you fool! i am right.here. i had a depressing ring tone for you. i wrote things about you. i kept pictures of you. i sank with you. and no you never hit me, never handled me too roughly, never left a mark of anger but your mouth was the worst kind of poison. a poison i let seep in to my skin everyday i tolerated it.

you told me little things i needed to improve. you made jokes to "ease" any tension over this. you said you really liked it when i was all done up. so i never showed you anything real. i showed you nail polish and hair dye. i showed you the effects of only eating fermented cucumbers. i showed you empty. and you, you were empty too. but i tried to fill you with whatever i had left on my bones. i tried to laugh for you, to be happy for you. but you muffled my laughter. you told my tears they were wrong. you shoved my spirit to the ground. your depression bored me and my patience bored you. so we would pick at each other as some sick satisfaction. we didnt solve things. we said things were stupid and buried them. we were the worst we that could be. yet i chose you and you chose me. and misery chooses company. and i chose for a time to tolerate this. i let my thoughts be polluted because i always thought things would be clear if i waited. waited for what? for you to turn into another man? i waited while my toes were stepped on. i watched you drown at your desk. i watch you immersed in a world that wasnt real, i saw you disappear inside headphones. i yelled at you sometimes. i screamed. i wrote in sharp and pointy letters about your disregard and disrespect. i exhausted your name in trying to understand you. i smushed the lumps in my throat into my pillow. i breathed heavy. but i saw you give up on life. i saw your back slumped over in defeat. i saw you, but you never saw me.

he sat in the row of desks next to her and reminded her of a southern gentleman from the civil war,
a handsomely torn expression on his face with an impressive amount of facial hair
and those deep, poetic eyes like small worlds shadowed by a concerned brow
those eyes would sweep across her in moments when she pretended she could not feel them taking her in
she became more aware of how she held her pen, the part in her long brown hair, how her sleeves should be rolled up, all of the trivial matters of attraction.of course during these curious beginnings to a visual flirtation these things do matter. an hour and 15 minutes twice a week was her time to show him and not tell him how lovely she might be. they were in this class to learn about writing and the teacher always told them to do that anyway; show, don't tell! show him.

so she would try and show him that she was not shy to share her opinion, that her arms could be raised and from the calling on of fingertips she could produce an answer that was thoughtful. she could speak with eloquence and add a witty remark. she could wear stylish dresses and necklaces that her grandmother wore once. she could imagine her makeup smeared by an antebellum beard. and verses would circle his eyes and tell you all the lines you could not hear. because he never talked to her, you see. they only passively spoke to each other in class. they watched each other when they pretended not to notice. they softly agreed with each other when speaking in discussions. they created an indirect appreciation of one another. her eyes travelled all across his back and his face in profile would turn ever so slightly to return those intrigued looks.

but it was nearing towards the end of this class, and they still had never said "Hi."
she left class one afternoon with the intention of skipping her next class and noticed that he was walking in front of her. she did not seize this as an opportunity to talk about stupid things that were an excuse to start something between them. but she did not let him walk much farther than she.

she noticed that he was going the same route as her apartment and continued to slowly follow his feet. he glanced back over his shoulder like he had so many times before to her and they smiled at one another. "Hello" they said, without opening their mouths. they kept walking in this formation, with him every so often checking to see if she was still smiling to herself behind him. he did this about four or so times until she had reached her apartment. she opened the gate to the concrete stairway ahead of her and when he looked back to see she was not behind him, she slammed the gate extra hard so he would turn to see her standing on the stairs smiling at him above on the 3rd floor of her apartment complex. they paused for a moment and she waved from her stairs. still never speaking, just shaking her hand left to right and right to left to show him she acknowledged those side glances, that she acknowledged him. and he quickly waved back and then shyly folded his arms back in place and began to walk away. they still had not spoken to each other, but this small moment spoke to her. and she laughed to herself and reviewed what had happened in her mind, imagining how she would explain it to someone else and wondering if they would be able to see it in their minds with so few words.

i see the hurt stretch across your face
i see the hours hang on your eyelids
i see what you dont feel like talking about
and i know, nobody can get inside your head
but everyone tries to tell you whats in there

you can start so easily
but finishing? i dont know
youll just start something else
maybe you can compile all your started things
and say its a collection
you can take up parasailing
and not know how to swim really well, i guess

i was so nervous to meet his mother
i had heard descriptions that were
intimidating to say the least.
i had heard of all the things she didnt like:
chipped nail polish,
fingerprints on the steel refrigerator handles.
so naturally i checked myself for chips or smudges.
i put my sweaty palms down carefully on my thighs
and sat very ladylike.
i wore a nice blouse
i powdered away the shine and sweat
from my after school face.
i shaved my legs,
i shaved my
keep it private, i'm dating her son.
i picked out the right earrings.
i toned down my sleaziness,
stuffed the swear words back in my mouth.
then she presented me with a test:
a box of donuts; glazed, chocolate, bearclaws.
and how am i supposed to be?
am i supposed to be demure to donuts,
as if i have never met donuts
and i could not formally accept the invitation?
i think of so many girls who would politely shake their head no in this situation.
and i thought briefly of this,
this sugar limbo.
"oh no thank you, im fine"
oh what a lady, she turned down that donut with such grace.
but despite this whole presentation of myself i have for her,
my initial reaction is "oh yeah!"
hear i come, you delicious bearclaw!
and later my boyfriend tells me, after all my fears
that she liked me because i ate the donut

9/24

If I could tell you what the years mean to me.
If I could express the kind of love that ages with you,
that sees you when youre awkward,
when there was still a gap between your front teeth,
when your heart was first spat out,
when your father was harsh about art and what it means,
when people questioned your fashion, your sense,
your wisdom, your words, your scenes.
If I could show you you are so beautiful when youre vulnerable,
when you let it all spill out,
when the words youve locked away roll off those big eyelashes of yours.
If I could let you know that
that maze of a mind of yours still so amazes me,
you would probably say I have cheesy puns,
but I wont stop making them for you.
You say I embarrass you sometimes
and im so sorry for my oblivious mouth,
but I wont stop learning from you.
If I could tell you it is such a relief to see you recover
to see the light return to your eyes,
to hear your laugh climb back up your ribs
and bounce around in my ears, loud and alive.
It reminds me of all the years
of wanting to hear that sound.
Because I have known you a long time I know this means
that sometimes the world will wound you
and the laughter may be lost in your chest,
that sometimes we forget to say how much all these things mean,
but the bond we have, no matter how distant we may be in mind or miles,
makes me who I am and is a part of me,
it has helped me to be myself,
and even if I could tell you all this
you still wouldn't really know how much that means to me

i am the mother of this heart
and i let it play
out in the sun
in the rain, in the mud
free to be dirty and to enjoy
i am not some overprotective parent
that sees the sky turning gray
and locks the doors.
it might be hard for me to stay put sometimes,
so maybe i enjoy all this running around, really.
im young
im naive
and strong for now,
but i do give in.
i give in to love everytime. i give it all.
i give it my soul. my speech. my anger.
my childhood. my mistakes. my looks. my light.
it takes so much strength
to share with someone else
to say okay, thats alright
i want
i think
i can
this is
i am
we do
we will
this is not it,
we are not through.

when i hear people say "i'm not good at writing" I usually say something like: "Maybe you are and you just don't know it. If you write a little something everyday about whatever, something that happened to you, a memory, somebody rude you encountered, something that made you smile, or just what youre thinking...it might be more interesting than you think. Just remember that whoever reads it or is listening is not inside your head so you have to describe it as best as you can with that in mind. The problem with writing is that most people try to force it into something before it ever is anything. You should let your thoughts flow, let the words build and grow, let the characters form a soul, let it all spill out first. It doesnt have to be poetry, it might just become it."

I'm not even following my own advice. I wanted to write more because Stacy told me she started to read my blog and it made me feel good. I forgot that kind of connection. I miss school mostly because I was forced to write and even when I had a massive foot noted beast to write, I wrote poems and other things about my life as a means of procrastination. Why do I lack so much discipline? I don't like being told what I should do. Even if I'm telling it to myself. My writing teacher last year told me I should never start a sentence like that last one I wrote. Well I like it. It's dramatic. D for disobedience for that.

It doesn't all have to be fucking poetry! I like a seasoned swear word here and there. It's like adding some pepper but if you use too much, it's not good. I would get so excited when my Shakespeare teacher would swear because I knew she really meant it. If every other word you use in your vocabulary is a swear word I'm not really sure what you mean...

I'm going to try to write something every day...even if I don't publish it..it's for me...and it doesnt have to be spectacular...it doesnt have to be FUCKing poetry

but I love you. (You)

so I won't stop writing if you please won't stop reading

we didn't

we didnt stop talking,
but you stopped asking.
amazing how far questions can go.
we didnt stop seeing each other,
but you stopped looking.
amazing how far the world can pull you away.
we didnt start a fight,
but we didnt resolve anything either.
we didnt scream and yell,
but we didnt speak up,
and love cant be closed shut.

if you ask me i prefer a tired throat.
i prefer swollen eyes.
i prefer off my chest and a mess,
and the extremes over neutrality.
if you ask me,
if only you would ask me,
but you do not.

patterns

people tell me we have a pattern
well patterns can amount to something beautiful cant they
patterns are designs and intricate lines
the colors and twists of our creation
patterns are people
people tell me we are repetitive
but songs recycle sentiments
the stars show their faces on schedule
and our hearts skip the same pace
so yes you may call it a pattern
but i call it an endless work of art

the white pelican

we were watching a program about birds,
and there was the white pelican.
the narrator tells us that
the worlds a different place now,
so this birds gotta change.
beaks against nets and boats
oil, plastics,
all kinds of drastic
to keep up.
survivors swallow adaptation.
hunger suggests you change.
so the pelicans, they found that they could
feed on the chicks of other birds.
they changed their flight pattern
and their diet.
acceptance with no feathered riot.
they hover over the ground,
abandon the sea.
they change i guess you could say instinctively.
i hover over my own thoughts, which are wings to me,
and i ask
what will be on my plate in later years?

My family has never been too tidy. when people apologize for a disorderly house i laugh and say they haven't seen mine. my father can't smell and he thinks that no one else can either. deodorant is just like this pointless task to him. he cant smell it, he doesnt know how bad he smells, so how couldnt he forget to put it on sometimes? only when he raises his arms and our faces become sour do we poke him until he says "alright, alright." He gets angry about my room when there are heaps of who knows what on the floor. but after he's had his coffee he just leaves the kitchen right away because that coffee pot leaks shit EVERYWHERE. don't pretend it doesnt dad, you drink out of it everyday. when my brother lived with us, he liked to take showers in a tropical rainforest setting. do not go into the bathroom with socks, unless you love that wet sock feeling. my mom tells me how she used to be as bad as me about cleaning up. but now she is an organized messy. she has always taken care of the bills and has always had a big heart, with plenty of space for animals. in turn, this allows fur, everywhere, all over. lint rollers are never out of business, vacuum cleaners are constantly choking. all furry things are allowed on the bed, the couch, our clothes. when it rains, footprints, pawprints, muddy comforters, delighted drool. friends of mine have clean couches, pristine counter tops, boring amounts of dust. some have pets that stay outside, they keep the mud in the mud. ive heard of rooms people have that have couches no one is allowed to sit on. that is just ridiculous. sometimes i feel that i should be more embarrassed but, my family is dirty and loving. our cars never smell like new. our clothes are not stiff and pressed. we accept the mud. we sleep with panting beasts. comfort is not always clean. even if you smell bad (we might tell you so) but we will still hold out our open arms.

women say "I want a man who will move mountains for me"
men who dont run from mountains
or try to build around them
men who wont pretend "it's all taken care of"
when evidence clearly shows,
no mountains have been moved.
i dont ask for monumental strength
come on ladies, using a hyperbole to explain what you want
i roll my eyes, but romantically.
i want a man to climb those hyperboles with me
if we run out of oxygen
it wasn't meant to be
and if we never look back
at crumbling where our feet have been
if we move swiftly
carefully yet fiercly
mountains will obey our steps
mountains will allow us,
they will keep me slipping and smiling.
mountains wont be moved by the man i want
because i enjoy the climb,
i dont like it easy
so you better come with me

why do i let my hopes get up?
why dont they just sit down
take a seat, rest awhile
they could just softly tap my shoulder
and say "excuse me, it's time to get up now"
and then i would know
so i would never be let down
just gently eased up when i was told it was right
and nothing would ever be exciting.

we were talking about how they say men end up marrying their mother and girls their father
i ask not for my father's guilt tripping
but that silly sense of humor can stay
now i ask if you think my brother is like your father
and you say only with his temper
and i see similar explosions
you ask me if you're like my mother
and i say yes you are
you take it as a compliment
i do too
i tell you you're sweet and caring
and you're a nurse.
you shake your head at me
"I'm not a nurse."
"yes, you are."
and I imagine you with a tray of snacks
'Can I get you anything? Do you want something to drink? "
you host when it's not even your house
you attend to the unattendable
you want to shine light on the smallest of seeds
you're a nurse

im back at the apartment in san jose. gonna pack up the rest of whats left here. im smoking. im breathing. im thinking. im processing. im maturing. im still avoiding punctuation in these things. im so glad i called you kaity because...my anger just comes in bursts. i think that i can blow it all up on the person im angry at...but really i just need to talk to a friend. im realizing this more. i dont need to repress it, i dont need to try and calm myself down, to "sleep on it." sleeping on anger seems uncomfortable. ouch anger, you're kicking me off the bed. god damn anger why do you take all my pillows? im crazy. i know it. but its good sometimes. its alllll good right? people say that. it's all good.
ive had so many interesting conversations lately.
yesterday i looked over at you when you happened to be looking at me too. as timing would have it, the lyrics of the song sang of love. but my mind is elsewhere. my heart is beating in many kinds of directions. i will be going to new places soon. to where i never thought i'd go. to be the impulsively idiotic romantic i always knew i was. oh but romance, that makes me nervous. romance implies love and...love implies...what? hurt, pain, ice cream and extra pounds, chemicals released, sweat produced, thoughts scrambled, sleepy eyes, smiles that burn, memories painted in brighter colors. it's all good.

this is crazy! i need to stay up pretty much all night to finish everything i have to do. but. i dont think i could sleep anyway.

you run from too many people
i run to too many

ENOUGH!

say something

"Relationships don't work they way they do on television and in the movies. Will they? Won't they? And then they finally do, and they're happy forever. Gimme a break. Nine out of ten of them end because they weren't right for each other to begin with, and half of the ones who get married get divorced anyway, and I'm telling you right now, through all this stuff I have not become a cynic. I haven't. Yes, I do happen to believe that love is mainly about pushing chocolate covered candies and, y'know, in some cultures, a chicken. You can call me a sucker, I don't care, because I do...believe in it. Bottom line is couples who are truly right for each other wade through the same crap as everybody else, but the big difference is they don't let it take them down. One of those two people will stand up and fight for that relationship every time. If it's right, and they're real lucky, one of them will say something."

shit

i lost my phone
doing fun and irresponsible things
im not the most sad about not being able to get texts
that tell me to call people
or call people to tell them to text me
im sad because
there were videos on there
that i shouldnt be watching anyway
one when it was the beginning
and issues were yet to surface
i laugh and i kiss the air
because on the other side its you there
when you wrestled the dog on the floor
when we jumped up and down
naked parts flying around
you sleeping solid and sound
but i'll buy a new phone
things change i guess

black cat

my mother tells me youre having trouble eating
but i scratch your ears and you sound like younger years
you're my favorite
so i tell you "you can't grow old, you can't grow old"
but my mother listening says, "all things do"
and on her i see refined lines and grayer hairs
that i dont want to see
i grow tired but i flicker bright
i sweep my hand over your fur
and i tell you how much i love you
because all things may know the rules of time
but my love knows not the date of bones
it will scratch your ears as long as you like

.Laura Curren.

facebook!
and myspace
and my face
in tons of pictures
tag me tag me
text me the address
send me a pic of u honey
disregard grammar
im enamored
with your typing
im gonna download
everything i own
check my inbox
reset my passwords
check this check this
bright blinding banner
lose 10 lbs in one week
hot and sexy locals
waiting for you!
masturbating for you!
take this survey.
free free absofuckinglutely free!
congratulations you've won!
ipod (cant) touch (this)
go read a macbook
why dont you go blog off
fall off a cliff note
set to private
im changing our relationship status
we need a break technology,
its not you, its us.

silly goose

His name was Freddy. He had droopy eyes, a sharp, freckled nose, and the nervous habit of sucking his bottom lip with his enormous front teeth. He was awkwardly tall amongst the first graders, and often hung his neck and slumped his shoulders, appearing as a vulture in profile. It was hard for five and six year old eyes not to examine him, although it was clear by his silence that he preferred to be unexamined. For the most part then, he was willingly ignored, except for one day, when all the attention would be on him.
For every character like Freddy, there is a character like Amy. She had a cruelly cute face and long eyelashed eyes that reflected that she knew this. She was an insidious pageant queen, but she was beautiful and always had gummy bears in her lunch, so naturally, I wanted to be her friend. Most girls vied for her attention and favor. Just as the class would go out to the field to play duck-duck-goose, she seemed to select her next best friend in the same manner. I had been chosen to be a goose. I did not know though, that this decision also meant I would be the subject of jokes and pranks.
I was sick one afternoon, and in my absence, Amy had devised a scheme behind those shining blue eyes. She crafted a note that was as romantic as a first grader could concieve, and artfully signed my name and my affections with it. She promptly delivered this confession to Freddy. I can only imagine the waves of giggles in the classroom. So the next day when I returned to school, I did not understand the sudden attention, the impish glances and smiles towards my direction, the hushed voices when I came near. When I felt Freddy staring at me from across the cafeteria table and heard Amy screech in delight, I knew something was not right. I looked back at him, teeth protruding over his lip, and I asked Amy and others around me what was so absolutely exciting that I did not know about. Amy was proud of her tricks and she happily burst out : “I wrote Freddy a love letter as you!”
“Why did you do that?!” I shrieked.
She shrugged her shoulders. Duck, duck, goose.

application

can you tolerate hurricanes of the bedroom kind?
are onions a problem? black licorice? you'll be tasting them.
do you test your lungs on your favorite song?
do you hate being told youre wrong?
can you apologize
are you a dreamer day and night
do you believe in love even when it falls on its side
are you capable of laughing at yourself and me laughing at you laughing at yourself
how spicy is spicy
do you like to make out despite high toxicity levels of breath
wanna have sex even when im sick?
can you handle me? whatever pop stars mean by that.
do you demand more bed than there is supplied
can you carry my affections equally, not too little, not too much
know how to drive my car? you'll be driving it
looking to expand your music collection and share yours?
can you tolerate my lack of labeling
will you save me when im feeling dramatic
will you go to far away lands and close couches with me?
can we blow smoke all over the stars
can we dance in sweaty situations
are you open to waking up early in the best possible way
mind if i put my legs there?
can you appreciate absurdly cute dogs who might eat your possessions?
do your possessions eat you?
will you set aside technology for flesh
are you not afraid to get stuck in your own head,
and can i meet you in there?

did you read all of this

i just cant explain this shit at all, i believe in people like you

Great Expectations

"That was a memorable day to me, for it made great changes in me. But, it is the same with any life. Imagine one selected day struck out of it, and think how different its course would have been. Pause you who read this, and think for a moment of the long chain of iron or gold, of thorns or flowers, that would never have bound you, but for the formation of the first link on one memorable day."

your words are not my friend

you are so malicious without realizing sometimes
your lips arch in points and stab back at me
they snap before i even spit
but i dont adhere to this kind of artillery
i put up my hands
but dont let them move
i dont add gasoline to your arguments
so you'll just burn out, exhausted
with a smoky vision and tired lungs
and nothing left of me in your path

"Life is like a girlfriend; demanding and I'm deeply in love with it."

why cant i be more angry? not in general...just about this situation. is this some kind of subconscious message to myself? maybe ive been kicked to the curb one too many times.

"you should try being more angry with him"

but im not trying...im just being...this is me. this is my heart. my mind. my soul....whatever that is. my arms are perpetually open, even when they're crossed. i dont think life is for crossing arms. i keep em open because its possible that they might wrap around all ive ever wanted

im open, im free, people are starting to see

some of my favorites

love without pain isnt really romance

“Don't make waves”
fuck that
make oceans
make fires
chaos created the dinosaurs
and shit went down in Jurassic Park.
The Lazy River is nice
but wouldnt you rather be shot from a tube?
Wouldnt you rather sit in the front rows
so a whale
can splash appreciation
all over your dry?
Wouldnt you rather
not listen to your mother
and let your mistakes slap you in the face,
wave after wonderful wave of them

spring in the air

Such a tiny flower!
I wanted to pluck you up
marvel at your compact wonder
place you on my fingertip
but,
I want to see you grow,
not in my world,
but your own.
I want to love you as tall as you stand,
not cut by my hand.
I love you for what you are,
not as a trinket or a token.
I love you more than the ground can hold
I love you more than metaphors

trust

im in knots. what do i expect? everything and nothing. my palms are sweaty and we dont meet for a few hours. i want to be calm and cool. i have a feeling tho that when i see you i wont be able to help but smile. do i still put that spell on you like you said so long ago? i think we like this. these dramatic gestures. we would like to say we like to make it easy and simple, but thats just not who we are. i think you know. i think i know. i dont think actually. i feel. i feel vast. i feel low. i feel overwhelmed with what i want. i feel your eyes and skin before they brush over me. i feel my fears. i feel my nerves squeezing my heart. trust your gut, well my gut is a little tied up at the moment so what do i trust? do i trust my love for you?

open the door, walk right on in

i can't sum it all up. it can't be summed. but parts that really stick out....friday i was exhausted..we all lost each other in the overwhelming waves of people and the dark. but i heard fever ray performing "Im Not Done" and ran towards it. I ran! it felt good, running in the warm night towards something i couldn't wait to hear, something i was so excited about. it was like she was calling me to that stage. i ran and i slipped into the crowd as close as i could get. it was worth every sweaty push to the front. she painted her face all white with dripping black tears. she wore a long black dress that she lifted her draped arms out from like a powerful statue. she sang just as i imagined. creepily amazing. the set, the costumes, the light show, all of it- blew my mind. i was alone. dancing my heart out. i was happy.
and the next day when we did shrooms i was enjoying myself, but quiet, until we went into the air conditioned 5 gum tent (free gum and air conditioning) which i can only describe as like a big piece of moss. dark, cool, and damp grass ground. we lay there staring up at rippling tent ceiling and lights. but i thought of you and i started to cry. it came easily. i missed you so god damn much at that moment. all i kept thinking was "he would appreciate this so much." everything here. every show i wanted to see, i knew you would want to see too. i was terrified of the possibility of seeing you there, but at that moment i just wanted you to see what i was seeing, to enjoy the music like i knew you would, to be there. i felt every note, i danced without embarrassment. i wanted to tell you all about it, but i wanted you to be there. i dont know what the point of saying all this is. i guess its the same point as crying on shrooms in a dark and cool tent in the middle of the desert. its just a release. im just setting you and my hurt free.
it's not easy when you cross my mind

in music class i was getting goosebumps from the different pieces....the feelings in the sounds just making my skin alert and alive, mind and body stirring...but you, i wonder do you feel it? rather, do you let yourself feel it?...you're always making jokes. humor can be such a disguise. i think you know you're obnoxious and the teacher knows it too. but i see sly smiles as ways to shade the truths. maybe you wonder why people don't take you seriously? i'll take you seriously when you show me something serious, genuinely felt. i love to laugh, you know, and sometimes my best humor comes from pain...but if you would shut up once in awhile maybe you would see or feel it

i can be pretty cheesy, but i always mean well

I hear you on fighting fire with fire,
but what if
you loved fire with fire.
what if lovers heat up the dirt
with promises of fresh ideas.
what if two flames did not destroy,
they just blazed the atmosphere.
sure, birds might drop, things could get messy,
but chaos is hard to repress.
It crackles, ignites reflection,
and wipes the remains from a clean slate,
like love right?

a couple weeks ago wendi told me she had a dream that she, katrina and i were all hanging out and decided to venture to the freeway. except i got hit by a semi and was blown to pieces. she said that she and katrina didnt tell anyone because they thought the cops or someone else would figure it out.

don't wait until you burst.

tell me what you want, and what you see

tell me when it's dangerous out there, when you're weary of speeding trucks and people keeping their mouths shut in fear

piece me together, make me listen

call a search party when im nowhere to be found

love me when im a mess

tell me when im being dumb

because i dont notice this very green grass right in front of me

dont wait, dont wait

tell me when i should hold my tongue, but dont you dare do it for me

and dont you dare hold your own too much

be as expressive as bursting upon impact

so i dont know what smashed into me

tell me you love me more than concepts or interpretations of dreams

tell me you find peace with me here even when i might be in pieces

whoever you are

so comfortable its uncomfortable

I wake up with your legs wrapped around me,
fitting so wonderfully,
but you tell me it's too comfortable.
it's too comfortable
when you cradle me when I cry,
too comfortable when you spill out your life,
when you peel back your pride.
Don't leave your things here
because they might just stay.

some advice

you cant base feelings on a formula, andy
you dont just divide the months
and say you will feel like this after the approximate date
you dont say this hurts now but this is only valid until
what is this all supposed to equate to
what logic did you dissect this from
sometimes i question if youve ever been in love, andy


maybe i like staying up late at hair pulling hours
maybe procrastination is my company
tell that bitch misery i have a lover already
i do marvelous unnecessary things when time is not on my side
i notice things that pass you and your texts by
maybe its more of a rush to be in a rush
i resist lists, i create what wasnt asked of me
so i tell you to fuck off politely, andy.

Wednesday, Marching the Hate Machines into the Sun

yesterday in class i thought of you, and in my head i said "i wish you well and i wish you happiness, even if it means its without me ( i struggled with that part but couldnt deny that it just popped up) and that must mean i really do love you" i got this weird sensation all over my body after "saying" that.

it'll be okay. only a matter of time.

April

there are a lot of things to deal with. but its been busy, its been good. ive met some great people. trying to keep moving, no time to think. i try not to expect too much of anything. fuck you horoscope, you dont know me.

i almost cracked and messaged you the other day, but i remembered it's not my place to do so.

im planning trips, im saving up. im on my way, to where im not quite sure.

my friend had this quote in one of her notes

“Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being “in love” which any of us can convince ourselves we are.

Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Your mother and I had it, we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossom had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two.”

im covering someone's shift at work. i have to leave very soon. as usual. phoenix was being strange and following me all around the house. he came into the bathroom and tried to squeeze himself into the empty water dish while i was brushing my teeth. of all the things there are to be sad about, i am the most upset i can't share these simple silly things with you. i can't show you how funny he looked. i can't directly tell you. i can't tell you anymore.

I don't want to dream about you,
but when I drift away in sleep,
there are promises of the thoughts I keep,
left over images from my brain;
a reality becoming insane.
when I walk with nightmares
of memory eyed stares,
I'm awake with the thought of you.

or a dream is a message from my heart,
part of the remaining pieces falling away,
echoing for me to let go of them day by day.
just let it play out , time takes time,
accept the pain but don't let it define.
collect yourself, be composure keeping.
Love is too alive to be sleeping,
too rare to be a logical art.

[of mind]

I never put your picture in a frame.
I was afraid to place your stare,
eyes boxed in, squared away,
under the glass, a memory in decay.
I never wanted to take you out of there,
for you to leave your square,
no longer looking there,
your feelings not the same.

i think one of the best compliments you can get is "you're fun to be around"

someone spelled your name wrong even after i had spelled it out.

it made me angry. that's not the way you spell it.
you're missing something there.
it's a silent letter but it stands its ground.
it's a quiet vowel with presence.
it might not seem to make a difference,
but small things usually do.
it might not seem important,
but it's still a part of you.

I think my heart is too big. I think lovers sleep there because they know they can. Plenty of space to stretch out their arms. Plenty of pride to be harmed. Too much warmth to wrap around. I said, I'm feeling cold. At least I am aware of this. At least I might take care of this. At least I don't have the least of space to share. Full and soaked with signals from my brain. I cant fit this heart in my chest anymore. I have to wring out my pain, only to be filled again.

grow from the ash.

i have to.

i have to do what's best for me. i have to close my heart for awhile. i can't even see what you write or have to say because it sucks me in. i've been sucked in and now it hurts. you know how i feel. i wish i could deal with it and not have to be dramatic and delete things but the only way i can rebuild myself is if i stop wading through my thoughts. i can dissect and pick a part but it doesnt get me anywhere. it doesnt mend a broken heart.

"i dont want the world, i only want what i deserve."

if you love someone, let them...

yeah, you know i see what it says.yours is broken too? it seems like you were never mine from what it all says. i don't think you are anybody's. you are the breeze. you are carried away. i dont have to chase after you anymore. everything i wanted far too early. too restless. i have this silly idea we might meet again. don't hurt yourself with thought, laura. you need to take a shower now and get ready for school. you have people to meet up with today. people who have been missing you. Get up.

remember when you miss them
that they chose for you to.
they prefer their own company
over yours.
remember words sliced you up
& memories try to heal wounds.
no sunny day with sandwiches
will bring you back to me.

for the last couple weeks i wanted to suggest to take some time off. i was feeling frustrated about things. i was going to tell you. but i waited. this turned into us both feeling distant. i guess though, that you felt this in stronger ways. i can always sense when there are problems, its just that i figure after awhile the good times we have are always worth that. i mean you dont know what happy is if you're always happy. you don't know what frustrated is if you're always frustrated. all the ramblings in my head try to make me feel better, so it's just you and me ramblings. just you and me.

i got an invitation to katie's wedding today. i can't even imagine getting married right now. i saw that it's on May 29th, which seems far away but creeps up on you faster than reading this. you and your guest have to RSVP by May 1st. of course i want you to be my date. you are my date. i could already see us in fancy outfits making little jokes sitting on fold out chairs in the heat. i see you there, but i dont know if you will be. i want to know that you will. who knows though where you will be. will you be in kansas? will you be working? will your heart still be with me? i'll plan my schedule around this. i'll ask not to work, i'll say "i can't, im going to my friends wedding, it's the first one i've been to." will you do these things for me if i ask? will you put on a nice suit, catch camera flashes, shake unknown hands, endure the heat, because i want you to be there? i dont like to assume. i dont like to plan too far ahead, but sometimes it's necessary. i guess what im really asking is: can i count on you to be in my future?

my arms have been stretched for so long
i feel the tops of trees
i ask and i say please
i unhinge my knees
to stand taller
to shake shoulders
i reach and reach
does it take snaps and cracks
for you to hear me?
does it take a sore strength
to show you
ive had open arms all along

I speak up. I try not to speak down
to anyone.
Vowels roll off my tongue carefully
or they fly
in a burst of 
I'm sorry it just came out. 
I'm rarely punctual but
I speak too soon sometimes.
I try not to be late.
My heart vibrates off my teeth,
but I am so silent in some ways.
I push the words back
all the way up in my mind.
I wish for the adventurous ones
to try to climb up there,
see my fog over 
quiet mountains I've built,
climb to the ends 
& scream down my spine.

.Laura Curren. 

in the last two nights i've had every insecurity summed up in dreams.

I knew what was going to happen;
your things slowly parted from my room,
thoughts pushed back faced forward.
We were standing outside by your car & mine
by the heavy wooden gate
blocking you from somewhere you used to stay.
You asked if we could go inside 
but I said "No, tell me right here."
My skin was hot, my arms were crossed.
You held me, but I was not to be held.
You didn't speak until I told you 
it wasn't fair to keep me quiet here against your ribs
I deserve words. 
It wasn't fair it was a beautiful day.
It wasn't fair I still hoped you wouldn't leave
while I ran down the stairs to throw all of you 
into a basket to shove in front of you
& shout with a shaking yet clear voice,
"There's nothing here for you anymore!"
The dogs were barking & clawing at the gate,
crying out for you while I cried out at you.
They wanted to see you so badly
& so did I but I told you never again.
I said that's it, I've done all I could,
leave now, like you wanted to.
I asked why you were still here
because I wanted to tell you to go.
You told me you were trying to say goodbye;
it was the first time I had seen you cry.
              .Laura Curren.

i remember when you came to my apartment and stayed here while i was in school. i came back from class and you had cleaned my room. i thought oh my god he cleaned my room! then i thought oh my god...he cleaned my room. it was all so fresh and delicate. you folded my clothes and i imagined the reactions in every crease. just like that, you put everything in its place so quickly.
just like that

i think i have built up a resistance to red bull. nobody really stays on the bull too long. they fall off and wake up in their textbook with all of the lights on.

"To truly love something, you must first give it a chance to fail. If it survives, it is going to be stronger than ever. Distance is pure proof of this, and forever we will love if we survive"

best friend

i think about you often
i pat my chest
and say youre in there
but this weather is so cold
and our connection freezes
i pat my chest
and say thats how life is
metaphors are my explanations
i want to tell them to you
but steady is my hand over my heart,
it swats out others actually
and i feel an apathetic pulse

take care of you

When I said I wanted to take care of you
I didn't mean you couldn't take care of yourself
that you weren't capable
I didn't mean to stab at your pride
No, that's not what I meant
I mean the smile when your eyes first open
I mean the touch that pulls you from slipping
I mean conversations
no burdens
just listening
I mean comfortable in your skin
& mine, to wrap around you
I mean giving you how you make me feel

"She seems like one of those people who's always in their head."

"She's a writer, she's supposed to be like that."

i hope you rest easy

nervous chatter evolved into trips
and hugs and tears,
discussions and silence.
you were so beautiful,
but men had stepped on your spine
and your son was stepping on mine.
i said it wasn't your fault,
please don't cry,
but your back curved in concern.
i wanted to be like you in many ways,
to mend hearts at the price of my own
but your eyes haunted me at times.
I wanted to straighten your bones,
smooth the crooked path,
but how could i
when i let my own snap?
so i had to run far
from you and him, so far
to find where i am now.
my love for him burned away
but i still wonder how you are

if you ask me im ready

old stuff

Schedules

I know that love can't be built upon excuses
Well maybe he didn't know
Maybe he's just scared
All these wobbling boards
I never saw anything upheld by maybes
Never saw a foundation of sometimes
But he's so busy
He's always working
and he's really driven
He just doesn't have a lot of time
I mean he's got a really hectic schedule
such a busy schedule
Yeah but,
does he know yours?

But It's Inspiration

It's tearing me to pieces but it's inspiration
its an anchor im looking up from
its cutting at me so creatively
with its broken hearted abilities
killing responsibilities
i may lay without a sound
in darkly lit rooms
but my hands are moving
my mind is running
miles away from here

pretty girls

pretty girls pull off
short hair and piercings
they laugh holding their beer
and pretend to look away
pretty girls show their crafted jaw,
and unconventional style
pretty girls are
lonely and busy
they stay up creating worlds
you can see with only passion
pretty girls imagine and improve
listen and suffer
scream and evolve
they don't beauty sleep
pretty girls shape their souls
with no easy effort

today

talked to a few people today. got some perspective. i understand things better. just when im upset im upset. i let it all out at the moment. i didnt mean to corner you. you do need to relax and breathe all to yourself. you deserve to.
i havent taken my medication in a long time. i took one today and i was really social and pleasant. i know its not supposed to work again in just one day. it was probably a placebo effect but maybe i should start taking them again...i don't think i was that different.
im starting to enjoy my directness more now. i like to get to the point. i feel discouraged because i feel like im too much sometimes and people arent used to how i am, but i figure the right people will enjoy it. one of my new years resolutions was to stop texting so much and to actually use the phone. i called tali and shelbee and amy today and it felt good to actually talk. i called bora too. i know this isnt poetry to the few people who read this, but it is to me

just feel

lame.insecure.choked up.sensitive.nervous.unsure.frustrated.messed up

and full of love

shadows are climbing over us
they collapse into a calming dark
but your eyes say there is light here
your hands say "right here"
frightening are the changing skies
but the colors are so pretty
when the times collide

back in my apartment in san jose

i forgot how tired this place makes me feel

sometimes i question how determined i am. sometimes. my mother is always delighted to tell the story of when i was a very small girl trying to put on my pants. "i stood in the doorway and watched you. do you know how many times you tried to put on your pants? twelve times! and you didn't stop until they were on."
i think there are at least a few areas in my life that need this pants determination
i could list them but nahhh

i walked past a heap of all the trash i've said
no one makes friends with flies
and where does it all go i ask
nowhere but everywhere if you let it

everything stopped growing
patience, appreciation, understanding
and in rebellion,
(because everyone called this planet a mother
but in reality it was a child,
a child who would hug you in earlier days
but started to let go of your hand
when things became about appearance)
she stopped growing too
sour fruits melted into the dirt
branches would crack and split
rain would roll off them with no effect
everything was canned
everything was packaged and frozen
just as we had started to become
but parents would say yes there was a time
and paper would be stacked shamefully
and plastic overflowed and children asked
what a forest was, a garden, a lawnmower,
what are bees and sparrows and seeds
what does dropping like flies mean
and wrinkled faces told you about leaves
and how they were piled or
blown about by loud devices
how they changed color
and crackled under your feet
how they fell without realizing it
but this was only natural
a part of the next cycle

you looked just like a dragon

smoke curls out your nostrils
gray swirls around your teeth
shining fangs rise to blow
clouds from a painting
embers fly from your spit
those eyes flicker
& you look something ferocious
you look something consuming
but i step forward
with my own wounds
i know the pain it took
i know swords in souls
i hear the crackle
of flames put out
i see the bones lying about
but i am brave
i am certain it's right

and in less than an hour i feel much better. so good to see your pretty face!

roast beef sourdough roll, no mustard
corn beef roll, extra mayo lettuce tomato onion
egg salad sandwich, dark rye, lettuce and tomato
g smoke. no pickles or pepperchinis