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