There are those nights when the dogs barking outside 
won't shut the fuck up,
when I wonder if theres something in the air-
a wistful wave that blankets us,
some shade of terror that only the animals see.

.Laura Curren. 

I used to dig my nails into jagged edges

that I called love.

I wanted to believe my grip 

scratched the surface of untapped feelings

& this weight would become lighter 

if I just pushed harder, looked further,

if I still climbed for you,

held on for you.

I kept cutting my hands on potential.

I'd sweat & bleed to be someone you need

but it took me so long to see 

it's not because I was weak 

that I couldn't pull myself up.

I clung to ideas 

facing the wrong way.

I was afraid of turning around 

& falling down

but really it was 

flirtatious fear keeping me 

dangling.

I chose to stop reaching for 

what doesn't reach for me.

I loosened my hands

& told myself,

to trust where my heart 

carries my body, 

to let myself be pulled 

by love's gravity,

let go 

let go 

 let go.  

.Laura Curren.

At the bottom of 
my flights of despair, 

the broken bones of my hopes 

are scattered there. 

A pile of hardened feelings

making no shape of sense

just cry & spill distress.

Here lies a personalized mess.

My sense of humor recognizes me 

despite all this

& says between 
offering arms & a smile,

“Oh, stop being so dramatic!"

.Laura Curren.

My love is a different language to
those who fear loyalty & passion 
as one in the same,
no matter how beautiful the words sound, 
they remain lifeless without understanding. 
When I blame self sabotage 
for something not working, 
my excuses turn against me. 
The sides of me I said I'd never be 
appear when I'm 
seduced by insecurity visiting frequently
& chasing what's not right for me. 
When I stayed in the wrong relationship, 
I had the wrong relationship with myself. 

.Laura Curren.

I'll take this shitty 
day as a sign that
good news is due soon.

Haiku 68 .Laura Curren.  






Distract me with tv they call reality,
pressure me with skinny teas
& human advertisements selling pyramid schemes.
The internet & the media are as scary as our imaginations;
blame their wires 
but they stem from the circuitry of our minds. 

.Laura Curren.

The mundane gray is splintered by

volatile illumination:

passion, madness, sudden flashes 

of brilliance, 

all as beautiful & terrifying 

as the uncertainty of life. 

This energy startles

& cracks open still skies & minds. 

It manifests through lovers 

who learn to shock your attention 

& slip away,

only to leave you burning with words. 

or maybe it interrupts your normalcy 

with manic creativity,

the kind of inspiration 

that strikes you to the ground

& electrifies your wild eyes. 

.Laura Curren.

Lightning is very 

beautiful, yes, but I know

what it does to me. 

A flash of passion 

striking through my somber grays

makes the whole sky clap. 

Illuminated 

skies make moments that also

mean risking my life. 

My heart keeps beating 

no matter the weather I 

create with my mind. 

.Laura Curren.

I'll always love love

but it feels so good to not

care about you now. 

Haiku 67 .Laura Curren.

Is it still patience if the whole time 

you're anxious 

but don't do anything about it?

Do you need to personify the word?

Are you still romantic 

if you do romantic things

but don't really feel them? 

People always have their self described 

& hidden adjectives. 

Words have their hidden lives too;

they may seem quiet & shy

but they awaken something inside. 

.Laura Curren.

If you're still playing 

with boys, how do you expect 

to attract real men?

Haiku 65 .Laura Curren.

With all this passing time 

I wonder if I'll ever 

forget your birthday,

the holidays of us in mind,

if I'll remember you forgot mine  

& you were just passing the time.  

.Laura Curren.











Sometimes when I sit in my car, 
I feel like I'm driving the whole world-
& who's to say I'm not;
it's all in front of me
over my dashboard, 
what I perceive,
the colors & details
I choose to see  
or the lack thereof, 
the blurred remains 
of places I leave, 
the past trails fast
behind me.
.Laura Curren.














My kindness is not
weakness if you're asking for 
it when you're in pain.

Haiku 66 .Laura Curren.

Is it still patience if the whole time 

you're anxious 

but don't do anything about it?

Do you need to personify the word?

Are you still romantic if you do romantic things, 

but don't really feel them? 

Proper nouns always have their self described 

& hidden adjectives. 

Words have their hidden lives too;

they may seem quiet & shy

but they awaken something inside. 

.Laura Curren.

These stories are amusing 
& exhausting.
There are so many people, 
it's lonely. 
I feel lost in listed qualities,
pros & cons,
polished answers & buttoned up flaws.
I feel like a silly joke 
I mumbled to myself 
but an indirect listener laughed;
I've been looking for that laughter 
but it happens when 
I'm not paying attention.

.Laura Curren.










I'd swim in a sea 
of apathy  
to see 
your light house smile
catch me off guard
but help me focus.

.Laura Curren.

I'll always say please

& thank you, but I'll also

always say fuck too. 

Haiku 63 .Laura Curren.

We were young & had

to succumb to the soft yet

forceful pull of love.

Haiku 64 .Laura Curren.

We went to the same middle school. You were very 
attractive & I heard bad things about you. 

I knew girls who dated you & cried. 

I was the quiet type. I always knew more about people 
than they thought. I watched you from a distance.

High school came & pronounced my shape 

& sexuality looked into my nervous eyes. 

I remembered you but you didn't know me. 

I guess you liked how I looked more than 
when we were in middle school. & one day you kissed me.

We were lost in our chemicals & growing heights. 

We let this confusing & soothing feeling ride between us 
to become a story. We were young & had to succumb 
to the soft yet forceful pull of falling in love. 

We screamed each other's names, at the ceiling, 
at each other, to the sky, to our dreams. 

But something reminded you 
that the world could be cruel. 

Your light was eclipsed by dark memories; 

you took them out on me. 

You scraped the shame off your bones 
& threw it at me during arguments. 

You called me everything that hurts. 

I tried to hold us both while I felt 
shredded sympathy for myself. 

I became insane 
& loved your pain while trying to fix it. 

.Laura Curren.

Help me understand
the sorrow of your parting
taste & touch from me.
Let your hands speak on
my skin. I'll listen to the
sweet sounds from your mouth
when you first feel how
I feel about you inside;
don't be afraid to go too 
deep, love. I'm waiting. 

.Laura Curren.

Maybe you're wondering if I've finally had enough of knowing you in whatever form that is at the moment. Maybe you even start to feel sad. But do my eyes interrupt your thoughts? Am I in your head when you look off & away until reality shakes you out of it? What fills me might be empty for you. 

.Laura Curren





I can't make you see it the way I do, but I can try. 
I was excited to know you- I know that feeling steers me off course when I really like somebody. If the sex is good, it's all over, I'm a fool. I assume that because our bodies connect so well, our minds will too. But when this doesn't work, I'm hurt by what pleasures me the most. I still see your eyes over my thighs & I want it to mean more. I want my hair pulled by love. 

.Laura Curren.




I'm at a strange age. 
I don't know which section of clothing I'm supposed to browse through. I feel like a little girl lost in blouses & responsibilities. I feel like a teenager oozing out of expectations & jeans. Cheap seems to be childish but price tags tell me to grow up. I'm almost everything. It all almost fits. I'm Cinderella leaving a shitty shoe behind, everything fancy dissolving into the dreams that created them. I'm a mix of an exiting decade. I'm a blend of confusion on clearance. I look for professional pants & sweatshirts to hug my hangover. It's not practical to be with the sexy jacket that will fall apart after a few wild nights but these thick sweaters make me look tired. I know we are all naked under our presentations of ourselves but if I could, I'd show you all the colors that embrace me just right. 

.Laura Curren.

Television 

Watch other people 

do, play, speak, make, keep, break things.

Pause your life for theirs. 

Haiku 61 .Laura Curren.












When we were on the
same page, I never wanted 

to stop reading it. 

Haiku 62 .Laura Curren.

I want to be as 

certain as the type of day 

you decide to have. 

Haiku 60 .Laura Curren.

You're calling me but

I don't want to talk to you.

I don't want to think about 

my voice, my word choice.

I don't want to slap my forehead 

for what I've said & say 

for how & what way 

I speak presents itself;

sometimes my words drunkenly  

stumble out 

& fall to the ground

or they catch on to unnecessary fears 

like misguided embers,

misguided tempers, 

but my thoughtful speeches 

curl into petals that peel & unfurl 

for the eyes willing to water them. 

.Laura Curren.

I can't expel my

energy anymore

to those who make it

feel lost in their atmosphere,

maybe you let me

hang in the air, in your smoke, 

your guilty pleasure, 

but my fires are

brighter than barriers, my

love can make stars sing.

.Laura Curren.

Either the

poised actress stepping out 

with a hand of help, 

in the evening gown, spilling down 

past adoring screams & flashes,

waving, kissing the air, 

selling her smile 

& right to have cellulite in a bikini

or the pop star 

who's had enough 
feeling like a display,

an animal 

in an inescapable exhibit, with her existence

behind the glass of screens,

waving one finger, cursing attention  

tumbling out of a vehicle 

with red eyes & no panties

saying fuck what you want her to be. 

.Laura Curren. 

I'll land like a cat, 
miraculously, despite 
throwing myself down. 

Haiku 58 .Laura Curren. 









I can rid myself 
of the dirt I've allowed to 
settle on my heart.

Haiku 59 .Laura Curren.

The fuck it friend 

will chew up my problems with me;

fuck him, fuck her, 

fuck this, fuck that.

My smile will be stained 

with the names I spit out.

My issues might be covered 

by fear & luck 

but swallowing the truth 

& patient listening

are the only ways I digest them.

.Laura Curren. 

Maybe we're like balloons;

we're in prisons or vessels,

depending on your view,  

protected by skin that if broken

would leak us to be a part of, 

as one, 

what we always were. 

.Laura Curren.

Maybe I was meant to look at it all wrong for awhile. 

I needed all the wild nights to compare to stability 

& I needed stability to feel stifling. 

I needed to be suffocated by unconditional 

to discover fleeting & disposable. 

I needed to be cruel 

& for my heart fly to jaws that looked like nests. 

I needed to be as bitter as the drinks poured over 

the faithful butterflies in my chest

they landed in the wrong hands, on the perfect words 

to strip me down to vulnerability. 

the perfect exits & ending speeches...

& there I am again, the only character. 

Of course I thought I was the protagonist of my own heart, 

that who I would save would save me too...

 but really I'm the background to a bigger story, 

a bigger theme. This love, this circus of feelings

 made to do tricks & impress...act ridiculous, 

I wish it would wipe off its makeup, unchain it's wild 

& be free. 

I've been acting so long I've forgotten 

I'm an animal too. If it doesn't suit me why bother...

why wear what hurts me...why ask for anything less than 

soul moving, spirit enhancing, 

something that deeply & whole heartedly 

encourages you to breathe &

just be. 

.Laura Curren.