"and i was born at the same moment as the sun."

My hand glowing like a moon against his black as night shirt and warm, tough, and tan skin. I want to burrow myself under his think skin and hybernate for the winter. Only coming out in warm weather to smell flowers as he watches me like he always does; Like he's honoured by the thought that i would glance at him once let alone twice.
He looks at me like he's asking, "why am i so lucky as o have you? Why am i so lucky to be your winter cave? Why am i so lucky to feel your warm skin against my walls? Why am i so lucky?"
I only know to smile at such questions. How am i to answer?
Should i tell him it's because i am also lucky to be with him? Do i respond with, "Because something must warm you skin in winter."? Do i respond with, "Because you are a cave that echos love even when i scream hate."? Mabye i should mearly kiss his lips and whisper,"Because you are lucky.".
The wind answers my questions with, "Run away and see what he thinks of luck in comparison with love.".
My child responds with, "I'll be with you forever."
The remainder of my memory wonders how much of a promise has been made? How many times will love and promise echo in the cave before fading out?
My child growls, "None."

your a bit like those cinnamon buns, aren't you?

It's like ur wings were put on upside down.
your lips were sewn shut in ur sleep,
and now you can't eat.
you try to smile,
but the effort goes unnoticed.
since all you can do is move your cheeks
up and down.

you've refrained completely from
all matters of emotion.
No laughter hums from your lungs.
you no longer weep,
since you no longer wail.
whats the point in crying if nobody can hear you?

Then he came with his scythe
and pierced your face.
tell me,
how horrible is life my dear,
when your mouth is given back to you,
yet god gave you no voice?
but he made sure he gave you
what you need to choke
...didn't he?

you saw more red that day
then you ever could've fathomed.

The Selfish Bitch Needs a Vay-k

And i said no
and i said no
and i
said yes
and then regret.
I realized and i
jumped.

Brothern of the cheated
watched my vuneralbility.
St. Nick scolding
my premiscuity.

Ezra springs from her grave
saying, listen
child
since you know not
how to open your
jars
of clay.

I agreed to things
i never would
were i
awake.
I fell asleep thinking of
the future
yet woke
thrashing and gasping about
past passion.

The undignified cock
controlling
that which should
be persuaded not manipulated.

However, whats the difference?
whats the difference mother?
Truth tells me there is
no difference,
because what is done is
manipulation and what
you tell yourself
is that it
was pursuasion.

You are a liar
for your own
self-preservation.

A Little Inspiration For The Warthogs And The Mud

The Boys I Mean Are Not Refined
by e.e.cummings

the boys i mean are not refined
they go with girls who buck and bite
they do not give a fuck for luck
they hump them thirteen times a night

one hangs a hat upon her tit
one carves a cross on her behind
they do not give a shit for wit
the boys i mean are not refined

they come with girls who bite and buck
who cannot read and cannot write
who laugh like they would fall apart
and masturbate with dynamite

the boys i mean are not refined
they cannot chat of that and this
they do not give a fart for art
they kill like you would take a piss

they speak whatever's on their mind
they do whatever's in their pants
the boys i mean are not refined
they shake the mountains when they dance

"She's staring at the boys in a way they find suggestive."

I don't want to talk. For once i'm admitting I just want to be held. Laying alone and knowing it'll be that way for a long while. Contemplateing multipule facial piercings. Considering a change of hair color. Either a hole in my eyebrow or a hole in my lip.Either white blonde or midnight black. Either sleep or take 3 times the prescribed painkiller and guage my right ear in a hot shower. I'm leaning towards the latter. Either Excederin or Motrin or tylenol. Either stop asking questions or ask myself why the fuck i feel like this.

more bitter than sweet?

I don't like to cry,but this drowning sensation is thickening. I just want to scream. I'm sick of holding it all in. But i continue to lock it all in. So this drop of clear, salty water that just threw it's self onto the back of my hand is just caused by a leaky ceiling. I'll just blame it on the leaky ceiling. Hey dad, the ceiling is leaking!
But nobody is home.
I could really careless about arcitectual malfunctions, so i'm going to forget about it and try to sleep. Mabye sleeping will become difficult because it seems like there are holes everywhere in this house.
Do we even have a fucking ceiling?
Mabye someone will come home and notice a puddle. Mabye they'll just say leaky ceilings are a part of life.


The Verve- Bittersweet Symphony

lightless

Q: How many psychiatrists does it take to change a light bulb?
A: Only one but the light bulb has to want to change.

I heard this joke and it reminded me of the this time when my heatlamp bulb got so hot that it melted out of the socket. So the glass bulb was laying there on top of my gecko's cage, but the metal connector and all the wires were still screwed in. This then reminded me of myself and how i am a bit like that light bulb. I wanted to be changed so badly i practically fell out of my socket, but only part off me. My ass is still screwed into the warm, familiar socket. so i've got to find some plyers to unscrew the rest of me. To do that I've got to unplug the entire lamp from the wall so i don't kill myself.

I'm still trying to figure out how the last part of my analogy fits into my life at this point.

As Far As You Know

There is MORE TO YOUR LIFE than you EVER thought. There is MORE TO YOUR STORY than what YOU have read.
-Max Lucado

I bet Ralph Emerson would've liked Oreos.

This is the era of babies making babies.
This is the era of children falling off swings to find that sometimes
nobody will be there to catch them.
These are the days when we are forced to except responibilities we did not verbally ask for.
The verbal language is useless when you can act out verbs and recieve something in exchange.

what were you asking for?
was i subconsciencely asking for this?
am i just pressured by my past experiences?

I can't wait,
won't wait,
am scared of waiting
for the day when i'm sitting proped up on a hospital bed screaming and sweaty.
subconsciencely i think i might be scared that i'll lose him if this doesn't happen.
that thought makes me want to vomit.
i can't be that vially retarted...
...can i?

It's just his hands are so dark and calloused,
and mine are pale and soft.
i'm practicaly translucent.
but i could lose him easily in the dark.

He wondered out loud if you'd be dark like him.
I wonder to myself if you'll be soft like me.
mabye you'll be soft in the darkness.
or hard when everything around you is at it's clearest.

Loon

And your having trouble breathing,
and he says he wants to talk,
and your stomach starts to hurt,
and he wants you to call back,
and you think he's a sack of shit,
and it's hard to bear his voice,
and even though thats true,
you've pressed repeat on his message
more times than you remember,
and you still don't know what he said,
and your gonna throw-up,
your gonna throw-up,
your gonna....
at least cry
and you look like a loon
while you turn pages franticly,
cut out lyrics and pictures,
and paste them down in a book,
and talk to yourself,
and sing to your music schematically,
and you look like a loon,
but not the bird,
and you look like a loon,
but the crazy cat-lady type.

Guerrilla Flames

“You're not doing well”, he yells
His guerrilla fist tightly gripping my throat
An odd phrase to depart from his lips
When his face is the shade of a flam-engulfed body
Hit me once dad
Just hit me one time
So I don’t have to stand here wondering if you ever will.
“Don’t lie to me girl”, he yells
Don’t say you did your best when you know I hate liars.
But I’m not lying, it’s just your burning body makes me wonder
Am I really the liar you claim me to be?
Break something soon dad
Break something real soon
Just to get the full effect and teach me a lesson.
Is it worth it, I wonder?
His fist hits the table
Is it worth it to fight back, to show him what it’s like?
To be on the ground staring up,
Into the eyes of a burning man above you.
Don’t run now, love
Don’t run from him now
Some day the wind will blow and the ashes will scatter
And be forever hopeful that you are not one in the same.

Curb Dreamer

“I used to think I was gay.”
She sits on a curb and lights a cigarette.
“Really?” he responds, not knowing what more to say.
“Yeah but I’m not.” And then she starts to regret
She puffs away, hardly taking a break
“Why do you follow me around?” she asks him
“Because you're weird and I’m a fake.”
“You never make any sense”
“Would you rather be awake?”
“Did I tell you about the time I…yeah I did”
“I was there” “you're always there”
“Can I have the rest of that cig?”
“Yeah, I don’t need anymore”
She walks away as if the hounds of hell are licking at her heels.
He takes a drag off the handy habit.
An unfamiliar taste on his lips.
He watches her walk away and whispers and hopes that she’ll hear it.
“I can taste your scarlet lipstick on the filter.”
He knows she heard him as she turns around
A tear in her eye and a slow in her breath.
He hates it and glances to the ground
He catches up and stops beside her.
“I used to think I loved you”
She sniffs and lights a cigarette.
He doesn’t know to what or whom she’s referring.
They keep walking, only now in silence.

gone away

thinking somewhere,
about something.
mabye nothing,
mabye something serious.
I won't be around for a while.
Mabye never,
mabye soon.
I am trying to be helpful.
I hope i'm giving you a hardtime.
I love people untill i get hurt.
I would never hurt someone....untill i get love.

I am not perfect.
I am not a defect.
Seems we both have stuff to think about.



(read prose on a friends message and it stuck with me)

Your Breath Smells Like Grapes.

My eyes locked on thier bodies in this picture.
His hands on her stomach.
Hands that used to hold mine now touch her striped sweater.
Will he hurt her like he did me,
or does she get to experience the new and improved him?
I had to have been the one to try the test model right?
While she gets the perfectly perfected product.
How quiet unfair this all
continues
to be.
How uncertain i can see he is.
He is missing something in his eyes.
I think he's seeing he can't be what he was.
He's scared to be what he is.

and she...
...her...
she is obliviously observing...

.... something thats not really there

BUT SHHHH!!...

.......she doesn't know yet.

Die Hard Questions..."What are your thoughts McClain?"..."yippie-ki-yay motherfucker."

I'm scared of it all.
I'm not the girl i used to be.
I am lost in this sinking rock feeling.
Sometimes his eyes make me want to cry.
why is beyond the mind of me.

i want tears to stream down my cheeks,
get tangled in my lashes,
burn down my skin.

I trust and get hurt.
I hurt deep in my gushing, pumping chest.
I'm getting aches in my stomach.
I want to throw up.
I don't want to eat.
I want to scream and fight.
I want to cry.

When things start falling down, who will be there to catch me?
Who will be there is my lover is gone and my friends are
too selfish
or blind
or high
to help me?
I can help everone else when they fall.
I can hold the weight of the world on my shoulders.
But if i fall now...
I will hit the ground and shatter.
Butterflies will hit my face as i fall and try to give me their false hopes.
They will make me think that i am flying.

Realization will only come with the crashing of my face agianst the tar.

My mind is overloaded and full of hot water
and i am teatering on the bow of my boat.
I need to spout an ocean of tears.

How am i going to cry when i shatter.
My eyes will lay opposite sides of a room;
Watching peices of my heart melt into the gravel and stones...

... For now the sloshing noise in my skull is driving me INSANE.
I need to IMPLODE.
I need to KNOW
...when?
I NEED to KNOW
...why?
I need a flood to
SET
ME
OFF.

i swear i don't regret it but...

i mean i wish it had been different.
it just wasn't what i wished it had been.
don't get me wrong,
it was good,
it was great.
but it wasn't what i wanted it to be.
i wanted to feel beautiful.
instead of feeling like a vacum of sorts.

"Life isn't about finding yourself.
Life is about creating yourself."
-George Bernard Shaw

This is what it's all about

"O'Brian can find his own damn belt." Tiana said looking at the stars with a few drinks in her system.

I won't wear O'Brians belt. I won't be constrained by the stars. I am not desided by them, i am found by myself, with no belt around my soul. No rope holding me in. I am in a state of perfection. I love this feeling. Every love song is him. Every shadow and light is beautiful and looks like his eyes, his soul, his inner light. I want this emotion forever, and i want him forever. White flowers, and dresses, and early sunrises, and walks in the moonlight, and open laughs that are about nothing but happiness, escaping through facial expressions, and deep breaths, and silent vocal chords. I am awake when i sleep, and i am living when i dream.When dreaming of him.

I wonder if i'll ever know what Tianas drunkin slur means to me.

who's the liar?

The girls bathroom walls says,

"Love won't fix you."

...

it also says,

"Holly B is a slut."

Holly B says,

"i'm not a slut i just like pleasure."

....

what a horrible comeback.

Indian Burial Prayer

Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there. I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow. I am the diamond glint of snow.
I am the sunlight on the ripen grain. I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you wake in the morning hush or quiets birds in circled flights.
I am the soft star the shines at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there. I did not die.

It's depressing but at least i got an A.

A short essay i had to write for my english class on lord of the flies and loss of innocence.


Life isn't all sunshine and happyness and around the age of ten you start to relieze the worlds flaws and your own flaws. society forces us to grow up and stop pretending we are wizards or we're invinsible. Ralph is growing up on the island and is starting to see the flaws in the society they had created for themselves. he doesn't want to joke about the bathroom anymore. he wants to be serious. he's growing up and he's confused with what he's feeling. he says he has ," lost himself in a maze of thoughts that were rendered vague by his lack of words to express them (p.76).

i depress my teacher i can see it on her face. she wishes i showed more joyful insight into the loss of innocence. she doesn't know that i wish i was still 4 and playing with toy trucks in a sand box. mabye i wish i was 95 and playing with my food on a tv dinner tray and shitting my pants without caring. old people have lost so much innocence that they are refusing to see the truth in that they are truely old and demolished on the inside.

One of those days when you just can't stay awake in algebra.

I drempt of him last night.
The last one i had is what he is.
i still loved him i could tell.
we sat in an empty room in big red chairs.
watching a TV that shows nothing but static.
we didn't watch the TV.
We watched each other.
we were the characters pretending to have feelings we don't.
we are the actors showing we are unsatisfied with what we have become.
I'm numb on oneside.
inside
or
outside...
...i'm not sure which.
but one side is overwhelmed with this all.

The better version i'll never get back.

Let us go to places words can't describe.

Let me hear you say everything you've everwanted to say, but never had a reason or place to spill your guts out loud.

Let me tell you all of the pointless stories of my childhood in full detail, so i can remember that i've existed for longer than i feel i have.

Let me stick just one finger in your front jean pocket, because it makes me feel small when i feel too big.

Let me hear your deepest secret,biggest burden,loneliest moment and all the moments you were distracted by a feeling of utter rapture.

Let me stare at you and smile without haveing to tell you my reasons, because you should know you are my reason.

Let me make you dinner so i get distracted and ruin it, so then we can just order pizza.

Let me hold you when everything is falling down around you. I'll try my best to make us the last thing standing.

Let me make forts out of bed sheets and lay with me, to nap, and dream, and kiss, and nap.

Let me remind you everyday that i am the man in the relationship.

Let me say the previous statement, but know it's not true.

Let me Laugh about how i've never felt like a cute little girl before.

Let me be reminded that i'm not invincible, that i never have been and never will be. Sometimes i forget and i wouldn't want to scare you.

Let me read to you poetry, essays, comics, articles, and my own writings.

Let me listen to your beathing if you fall asleep by my side.

Let me feel your heart beat, so i know when i kiss you it means something.

Let me fall asleep someday, to the sound of your guitar.

Let me thing about you all the time...and not feel like a creep.

Let me worry about you, because worrying makes me feel needed.

Let me be the person you trust the most, because i want you to be mine.

Let me slide my fingers along your neck, but don't let my mind wonder to think of the ache if this ends.

Let me tease you.

Let me be teased.

Let me be the mess i am and know that by just being here for me it cleans up half my mess.

My response to McCains support of the war (written during a 2008 presidential debate)

You call this winning you bastard! You call dead Iraqi civilians a sign of victory?! what are you five?! Playing with little plastic men in your sandbox! You dirty scum Bastard!! I want to see a soldier look you in the face and call you a heartless lying bafoon!! We aren't winning you lifeless shit! Our people are dying and their people are dying because of shitheads like you!!

Forced Forgetfulness

This dark night,
come lie with me.
Trail your lips down my spine.
Brush your fingertips along my curves.
For tonight,
i need someone to love me.
Someone to love me,
because i don't.
Push against me.
Pressure this heart into obediance.
Push the peices together again,
if only for this night.
Skin against skin.
He always said it was
"..the best feeling in the universe.."
HIM! HIM! HIM!

You...

The pea under 100 beds

Sitting on the warm steps of the library. My eyes closed. My headphones in and Modern English flowing over my eardrums. I relieze that the wind blowing through my hair is no different that the wind that would blow through my hair in any other place. It feels no different.

It's chilling, it pushes,it flashes through this everything.
This big nothingness.
Pushing though my small everything.
Something invisible can make the biggest difference.

John candy. Funny man, famous man, actor. What did he do that changed your everyday life? Nothing unless he's your comidic inspiration, which i hope he's not, because he's not that good. The guy who first made rubber. Do you know his name? Not unless you have a good memory that goes back to fith grade when they mentioned his name once. Most likely you were passing notes and didn't give a shit. Well mabye if you really want to accomplish something you can't be well know in the future. You've got to make sure your name disappears.

All this from a passing, pushing, breeze.

What Would Your Father Say?

When did she start to wear lingerie?
When did she start picking up my habits?
I'm a hypocrite.
But i mean no harm.
I had no idea and now she causes such alarm.

I don't tell my stories.
They stop at my ice eyes.
I don't tell my stories.
I swear i'll tell no lies.

She says i have good intentions.
The fist gets in the way somedays.
She's a hypocrite.
But it's all my fault.
She's soon to know how much it hurts to fall

College education unused
Go to school to go farther than me.
I'm a hyporite.
But i guesss thats the game.
Try to be better than your own name.

I don't tell my stories.
They stop at my ice eyes.
I don't tell my stories.
I swear i'll tell no lies.

What happened to bedtime stories?
What happened to the monsters in the closet?
I miss your small eyes.
Now they're wide open.
Now i fear what's seen.

I don't tell my stories.
They stop at my ice eyes.
I don't tell my stories.
I swear i'll tell no lies.

You Were Such a Humdrum Bum.

What size bucket should be used for the shattered and tattered, faithless body strewn across a stained pink rug. One does wonder what hopeful dream ran away
and left this dejected body in such a lifeless manner.
Without movement or sound, dreams burst from the shaken body. Stories lurch from inside it,spilling out like vomit. The questions that have gone unasked, unanswered, waver on the tip of the tounge and slide from sullen eyes, that at one time portrayed the sun itself.
The sidewalk never settles benieth your heels. Weed your overgrown garden of thorns. The ones that cradle your faith. How happiness excites you mind, envelopes you head completely. Your up to you waist in cement and stone. No amount of faithful shoulders will sooth your unrested head.
Pick up a shovel and unravel, unbury, ur past. The shattered and tattered, faithless body is your own. If you bury things when they're still breathing, they will knaw their way out, till their spilling from your mouth. The only question heard now is shreaking up from the stained and faded carpet...Are we born with the creases on the joints of our fingers or is it some trait we aquire?

I Wish I Had A Street Corner To Stand On So I Could Rap This Around Your Face

So now i've started feeling the pain.
It's grip of grief wrapped 'round me.
Strapped here to ground me.
And i'll tell you again i'd rather sit in the rain than try to refrain
from staring into the cause of my pain.
How much i wish to be full of grace,
right at the moment,
right at this place,
this era,
this time.
Whats your punishment for commiting this crime.
You're afraid there's no escape from this game,
but i'm afraid the only way to escape from this place is to
harden my face,
forget your embrace,
and pretend that someday i'll understand.
You'll go on to pretend
you're so grand.
You're great,
but your crumbling,
stumbling;
You can't seem to find a lightswitch,
and so you'll keep on fumbling.
Just remember,
theres no escape from that which you create,
and you created all these blocked escapes.
Nailed up the doorways with your fake inalienability.
So when you realize you've no escape
excuse me for my incivility,
as i smile,
and turn away.

Question on Regret Answered

" You ask me about regret? Let me tell you a few things about regret,my darling.There is no end to it. You cannot find the begining of the chain that brought us from there to here.Should you regret the whole chain , and the air in between, or each link seperatly as if you could uncouple them? Do you regret the begining which ended so badly, or just the ending itself?"
-- Ingrid Magnussen "White Oleander"

Why Don't I Just Use A Gun?

This battle has already been won.
So why am i still standing here,
alone,
prepared for bloody battles.
Shield hangin limply in my caloused hand.
Sword swaying at my side.
I know there's an uneasy confusion smeared on my face.
Aren't there suposed to be flames thundering up from the ground in front of me?
The only thing bursting from the ground is baby's breath and daisies.
This battle field is full of daises.
The dead anti-christ stories have been carried away for their mass burial.
Baptism five years past,
but i never moved from my spot in this field.
As if the devil is going to pop out of the surrounding forest
and brand his name upon my forehead as i sleep.

Finish Your Cigarette, Get Off The Steps, Get Your Shotgun and Go Hunting For Summer Trouble

Ever felt like your not sure whats gonna happen to you next and your scared. Well mabye not scared, just kinda waiting for it to come. Just sitting on your front steps smoking a cigarette. Wondering, "when the hell is it gonna happen, i'm bored".

Summers here and i'm not sure what to do with it,my life i mean. Fuck it up a little? Fool around and be a kid while it lasts, make mistakes and not regret them....or straighten out, except my responsiblities, get a job, keep up on house work, stop smoking, don't sneak around my parents, do what a good christian girl would.

Well i'm on the roof of my house everynight, smokeing a cigarette and wondering when the next big thing is gonna get to me. It's not gonna come if i sit in a church pew repeating psalms. It'll come when i don't expect it. At least thats what everyone says. I usually go looking for the trouble that will knock me off my feet. The struggle to get up is good for your health....thats the best excuse i can give for getting into the trouble.

But, i can't seem to find anymore trouble and i'm getting tired of looking. But i feel this summer will be a good hunting season. Don't you think?

So finish your cigarette, get off the front steps, get your shotgun and go searching for some summer trouble.

My Son is The Messiah

i'm always watching people.
just sitting.
watching.
as if i'm waiting for something to to happen.
something amazing to burst out from within them.
ok so mabye i'm crazy.
a bit strange.
but not really,
people just like to say that to feel better about themselves.
admit it,
you'd be offended if someone said,
"your really not as crazy as you think."
ouch
that really hurts,
which is weird because calling someone crazy used to be a politicaly incorrect insult.
3o years ago if someone said "i'm jesus",
they're "crazy" and are sent to the asylum.
now if you said you were jesus you might get some rude snappy remark like,
"If your jesus, then i'm mary magdeline..fuck off"
ok mabye not but you get my point...
It would be funny to have kids with jesus at this day and age.
or be the mother of jesus. because every mom thinks that she has the best kid ever.

beat this though....

"my son is the messiah."

shot down.
you lose, your kid will never be able to measure up to that level
i wonder if mary ever thought that made her cool with the soccer moms, or whatever they played back then. it would never work. they'd be too jelous.
but it's ok, she'll continue with her life.
she'll go home and steal jesus' power
(just enough for some bread and wine)
out of the jar above the stove.
i bet thats where they kept it till jesus was old enough to handle it.
nobody wants a two year old pulling some water into wine stunt...
..thats just wrong..