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.