to be worthy

i know we have forever
a life just me and you
i'm just missing having so much time
together just us two

i have to be responsible
and plan past cap and gown
but it's taking my time away from you
and i see it gets you down

baby please remember
when those times you're feeling lonely
that i chose you, and i love you
you are my one and only

i know at times i'm busy
and recently, i'm not always around
i promise i'll try harder
it hurts my heart when i let you down

i see that you are needing me
and i want to make you smile
but i know you want me to succeed
so i have to be busy for a while

very soon i'll walk that stage
and i'll start my workday at 8
my life will fall into a patterned week....
the calm is coming, babe, please wait.

employee, daughter, girlfriend, student
in each role, i have to be strong
but you won't fire me....you won't fail me
unlike grades and jobs, we're guaranteed life-long

you know you'll always have my love
when life is great, and when it's rough
but recently, it's been hard...and sometimes
i feel like i'm not enough

i need to be there more for you
to give you strength each time we touch
because you're my life and my everything
and i've been missing you so much

baby, i'll try harder
but please understand what i'm going through
to graduate with my perfect dream job
so i can be as successful as you

i want to be someone you're proud of
i want you to take pride in my life
because i'm going to work my ass off
to be worthy of you as a wife.

A friend's farewell to drugs. --2 yrs ago--

Dear Heroin,

The time has come to bid farewell,

no longer is my soul for sale.

i've slaved away too many times

to cut you up in tiny lines

to stick your needle in my veins

to smuggle you on Delta planes

No longer will i chase your high

you comfort me like pigs can fly

you've stolen every cent i've made

co-signed my checks when i was paid

you made me sick, you made me well

you sentenced me to rot in hell

Today it ends, it's time to pack.

Today I take the power back.

and over.

Because I love you.

I’ll stand by you

Because I refuse

Refuse

Refuse

Refuse to lie

Refuse to lie

About Love—

Or hate—

And…I’ll be there for you

With you

(Because I love you)

As you reach down

To grasp a stone..Only to let it go….

to find a larger

Stone.

And because I love you,

I’ll stand by you

As you throw stones at me

And I’ll agree

With any

And every

reason

or fault

or shortcoming

or failure of mine.

I will be as wrong

As faulty

as anything you say I am.

Because I love you.

And I’ll stand by you

While you throw those stones

At me.

Over.

And

Over.

And over.

Because I love you.

I will

I need to

I have to

Understand why

The stones are cast.

untitled.

My heart was tranquil as a forest pool

Till you came singing down the moonlit way,

Flinging your careless words like pebbles

Into its depths

Deep down they sank- and you went

gaily on

but where they fell

Came little circles ever widening

Till they encompassed all my heart.

When you read this

when you read this, think of me

so lonely, without your smile

and i will feel you thoughts on me

and can be happy for a while

when you read this, remember me

so young when we first met

and i will catch your memories

and will hold them, lest you forget

when you read this, laugh for me

because you know i love your laugh

and i will thank eternity

to have found my better half

when you read this, look at your skin

and picture it next to mine

see the beauty and the contrast

and know it is eternally thine

when you read this, dream of me

tomorrow and for one hundred years

for i know you'll always carry me

through our trials, our joys, and our fears

when you read this, close your eyes

and be comforted, you make me whole

and never forget, my precious Love,

i am yours. heart body and soul

poem.

i can forgive

but i can't forget

i'm still not over

all of this yet

i was mesmerized by your beauty

hypnotized by your voice

i couldn't help but fall in love

give in without a choice

i fell for you

you would have known

but i guess i was falling

all alone

poem

you knew i was fragile

you knew i was pure

you knew i was falling

and still you chose her

you knew i was scarred

but you knew of my bliss

you said you were falling

but fell into Her lips

poem.

you took my breath away

were my wish on every star

and i though i was enough

to keep your heart as mine, afar

i feel you can't understand me

can't see past definitions: unclear

how my whole life was in your hands

and now has dissappeared

i care for many things in life

and only love a few

for fear of being broken

hearted like i was by you

the first time that you kissed me

the poprocks now run dry

and the first time i was ever touched

now a dream-filled lullaby

i fell for you

you were falling too

it was perfect for me

but wasn't for you

i wasn't enough

i can't be anymore

you broke my heart

and made me a whore

poem.

to ever be touched

to ever be loved

to ever be broken

to ever be what wasn't enough. 

is to be broken for the one was was enough for him

poem.

That very first day that we met--
Its a feeling I'll never forget.
All the experiences that we've shared,
I knew right away that you were rare.

You see, it's hard to find a someone like you,
Usually they're too good to be true.
Though I should've entered with more ration,
But with you I felt so much passion.

I wish those things had never happened.
It feels as though my love's been abandoned.
All I wanted was to make you happy,
So why is it that I have to feel so crappy?

I want nothing more than for us to move on,
But it's so hard now that the trust is gone.
I want to get past this, I really do...
What can I do to make you be true?

My love for you is like an undying flame.
And I once wished for our love to remain.
Do you remember that day, the day that it snowed?
Its the day that I wished for our love to grow.

You hurt me that night, you need to know that you did.
And I need you to know that I can forgive.
But I'm really struggling with trying to forget,
Because I still feel the same as that first day we met.

finals. shminals.

Countless cups of coffee. Every surface of the house covered with yellow legal pad paper. XMU playing in the background. Eyes sore from reading. Diet consists of almonds and granola. 4 hours of sleep a night. Restless sleep due to excessive intake of caffeine. Mind slowly forgetting how to spell words such as caffeine and consists (thanks, spell checker). 

Dear exams, 

  I hate you. 

Sincerely, 

.M.

i am upset. 

Alice.

I love this photo by Annie Leibovitz. The model is Natalia Vodianova. A series of Alice in Wonderland photos was featured in US Vogue in 2007. 

i wish i was in this world right now, lost somewhere that isn't here.

Silent Sounds Surround Us.

This quirky thing-a-majig is called Otto, which means 'ear' in greek. It was designed and created by a guy named Duncan Wilson. What it does is make the quietest of sounds audible. It's audible art. The Otto ampliphies undetected and inaudible sounds, and turns them into a 'sonic expierence'. The sound resonates as music.

I can imagine how this could bring a new perspective to 'quiet time'. If I had an Otto, i'd attach it to my computer, to my charging cell phone, to the table as i'm eating dinner. I don't think these are avaliable for purchase, if anyone finds that they are, let me know! You can find the Otto and info about Duncan Wilson here.

Oh so pale.

i am pale. very very pale. This summer, i'm staying in the big Texas, so i'll be buying lots and lots of sunscreen. I seriously never can tan, I just burn and the burn slowly goes away and i'll be left with a freckle. When I go to the pool or beach with friends, they always comment that my stomach and legs are blindingly pale--so bad that it hurts their eyes to look at me.

how sad is that?

Some like it HOT HOT HOT

Today the high is 89 degrees here in the big Texas and I am breaking one of my lifelong rules. I'm wearing workout clothes to class. Ever girl at my college goes to class wearing nike running shorts and a fraternity t-shirt and tennis shoes. I've always worn skinny jeans, high waisted belts, and a fancy pair of flats to class. When i checked the weather this morning, I knew I would die in skinny jeans. My mother would die if she knew I'm wearing workout clothes to class. I guess summer in Texas isn't quite the same as summer in NYC. In Manhattan, I could easily get away with wearing a summer dress; but here, the few times I have worn a summer dress to class, friends have asked me what event I was dressed for. 'no event, I'm just fab all the time' (yeah, that wouldn't fly)

Lush-Lashes

This Givenchy mascara is also on my wishlist. The shape of the brush separates lashes and is perfect for those little-itty-bitty lashes on the inside and outside corners of the eye. 

I always want 'gimickey' things, says those who know me. Basically, if something is new and different, i want it.....In my defense, i just like having things that nobody else has. It's all about being different, standing out. So I would buy this for 2 reasons. 1) it's a designer label and 2) it's different from the rest of mascaras. 

I fall into the marketing trap, i know this. 

Sephora has a great price for $28, here

Does anybody else think the applicator somewhat resembles an old torture device? 

soon it will be summer

This was from the past summer in New Mexico. (RIP blonde streak). This summer i'm staying in Texas. The sun will be sunnier, and the heat will be hotter....but i will miss my summers in New Mexico. 

ARRRGHH

These Vivienne Westwood Pirate boots have been on my neverending wishlist for about two and a half years now. My three best friends in NYC all have them. Their price tag of around $700 is more than a monthly apartment payment. 

so the important question is.... shoes or shelter? 

Poopy Statistics

Studying for statistics makes me feel this way.

Grey Gardens, Daring!

My family saw the play when we lived in New York. We loved it so much that my mother and I went out and bought the original documentary. We would imitate Big Edie and Little Edie and we'd just laugh and laugh and laugh at the lines. 

We just finished watching Drew Barrymore as Little Edie in the TV adaptation of Grey Gardens. When Drew said her very first lines, my mother and I looked across the room at each other, our jaws dropped to the floor, and our eyes wide in amazement--she hit the nail on the head! My mother was convinced that it was the real Edie from the original film! The acting was phenomenal. 

The only criticism we have is that some of the best lines from the original film and the broadway play were left out of this film. 

(i would have loved to see the dance Little Edie does with the flag like it was done in the documentary, also I wish they would have included the moment where Little Edie is reading that old Astrology book)

Amazing film!

Penis bones, scrabble, and books du jour

This necklace is from Erica Weiner (link below) and is a raccoon penis bone. For those of you that have read JT Leroy's book, Sarah, you'll know what this is. In the book, Cherry Vanilla (a young boy), dreams of becoming a girl truck stop prostitute, called a 'lot lizard'. The best lot lizards wear raccoon penis bone necklaces and the bigger the bone, the better the lot lizard. 

It's one of my favorite books of all time. Raw and real. amazing. 

i want this necklace. 

i love all of her jewelry, but because i'm allergic to anything but gold, my options are pricey and limited. 

These are all pieces from Erica Weiner: i have all but the first one:  

-Porcupine penis bone necklace

-filagree ring

-porcupine quill necklace

-handcuff necklace (from my loving boyfriend)

-scrabble board necklace (is says 'ma coeur toujours pour toi', which means 'my heart is always for you')

-book lovers neckalce (which i use as a pill jar when i wear it)

The story of how i fell in love with this designer is great. I had just moved to New York City and wandered into a designers market in a dimly lit, and rather smelly, public school gym on the lower east side. I wandered around and fell in love with the jewelry of one designer. She was just starting out and didn't have but ten or eleven pieces with her. I fell in love with the filagree ring and ended up shelling out $80 for it (there was only one). Over the next three years, i wore my ring frequently, loving it greatly. 

When I moved away from NYC, i began to miss it. I started following blogs of friends and socialites i knew that still lived there. I stumbled upon the Bona Drag boutique website and fell in love with the booklovers neckalce. I bought it, and wore it for a few months and loved it. Then, through blogging, i stumbled upon the Erica Weiner website and while browsing, realized i already owned 2 of her pieces! it was wonderful to find this great designer again

Spacker Dogs

My boyfriend and I really really want a bull terrier puppy. So much so that he has the above picture as the background of his iPhone. We call them 'spacker dogs'. Spacker is an english common word for 'retard' but with less of an offensive air to it. We consider each other, that is my boyfriend and I, to be pretty goofy and silly--we often call each others spackers and the phrase, 'you are spackin' out' is used frequently. English bull terriers are known to be goofy dogs.....you know, the type that run around in circles for minutes on end....anyways, we want a spacker dog so so badly!

look at the cute cute little puppies! i'd give up my chanel shoes for one! 

also: i've always thought that English bull terriers have human eyes. does anyone else see this? 

the pic above shows why i call them spacker dogs. 

Peanut Butter & Givenchy Jelly Sandwitch

Givenchy. oooh la la, i know. They're $170 on the Barney's website.  I bought them about two weeks ago. I'm wearing them incessantly. They've currently replaced by beloved Chanel flats (for the time being).  They are rubber, which explains the pricetag. 

I love these shoes. I hesitate to call them 'jelly' shoes.....i automatically think of my childhood when my mother refused to let me buy these: (thank you, mother)

 

What to do?

i really really want a new title image. my boyfriend would be the person to ask, but he's not around right now. i've told everyone that i'm studying statistics and managerial accounting ( i hate buisness), but instead i'm le-blogging. 

i take business courses with people that don't know the difference between your and you're. i'm cynical and they're idiots. ---these idiots make better grades than me because business doesn't care for language. 

idiots.

i'm currently slobbering over these boots. i saw them on a blog i follow BLEACHBLACK

but you can find them here

Some phavorite photos.

a different direction...

love this photo...it's from a blog i follow: www.befrassy.com

...sudden desire for another tattoo....

slow panic

Stillness, I can’t find it
Lost in the hole where the roads split
Where are songs of simplicity
when everything is falling away from me?

The rubble falls like rain
Covering me in wreckage again
But I am delicate, I break easily
Defeated i mix amoung the debris

I can’t find any beauty here
I find nothing left with to perservere
And Safety shouldn’t be outgrown
when I have nothing left of myself to own

one day it started, got dark
the rain made my world an ocean
and I’m just trying to breath
struggling in dark swirls of motion

and the fish survive so easily
while my tears fill my ocean higher
no air, I fill my lungs with water
and I sink lower

I can’t save myself
Hold me close
shelter me
Protect me
Breathe for me
Handle my heart carefully

.

and the amber leaves of autumn with the cold of an afternoon are what i need.
are what i need.

i write you off

the dorms are filled with rotting carcasses
the churches silent with hypocrisy
the nights are free without your drunken words
i write you off, the whore of majesty.
i write you off, the whore of tragedy.
i write you off, oh misses 'woe is me'
i write you off, i write you off.

of what is unsaid.

the heat of the unsaid and undone is flug upon the walls like animal flesh. rotten, sour, unwanted.

...

I open the door to his room. I take him in. he’s soundly sleeping. i reach out and gently brush back his hair, and kiss him on the forehead. There is no response, he’s lost in his sleep. I remove my watch and bracelets and lay them on his desk with my necklace of keys. I take off my yellow jacket, my sweatshirt, my skinny jeans, and my mismatched socks, leaving only his grey-and-white striped shirt on. I burrow softly into his bed. I let my body adapt to being under the covers. I reach my arm to rest across his stomach, and I gently press my cheek against his chest and I hold myself there, listening, hoping to understand each beat of this man’s heart. I lean up and briefly press my lips to his. I raise my head back and look down at him—he is perfect, truly perfect—I allow time to pass through my heart. Again, I kiss him: a longer, softer kiss. His eyelashes flicker, and his eyebrows wrinkle down as he opens one eye. He sees it’s me, his face relaxes, his eyes close, his arm reaches to wrap around my back and waist. His head rests back, I lower mine to his chest. I fall asleep in him, with him. I love the familiar scent of his naps.

i remember.

During the darkest hours of the night, I remember. When there remains nothing to fill the empty space that should be here, I remember. The hours when the darkness outside cannot penetrate my thoughts, I remember. During the times when I cannot block the pattern of my own breathing, I remember. When the hardest part of the night overcomes, I remember. When the passage of time is deepened and silence is one degree heavier, I remember. In the unwavering awareness of the light, I forget.

my heart is a mirror

My heart is a mirror
And I can’t always see
Which are your reflections
And Which is just me

For your smiles, I smile
For your fear- I quake
And I laugh when you laugh
And I cry when you break

I’d change nothing about us
I love the commotion
i love how you’ve given me
this very emotion

.

Every time I look into your eyes
I loose myself in you
grounded by your truth
you’re my everything.
My everything.
My everything.
Your kisses make my dreaming real
Don’t let go, it’s all I feel
take my breath, make it yours
For you, my love, this heart can’t lie
Together in time, are you and me
You’re everything that I need
My love, you have this heart to take
And make it yours, it’s yours to keep

She's got it right...

The Center of Night's Sleep
by Vivien Birdseye

In the center of night's deep blackness
And before the dawn of day
Too much awake for sleeping
And too much asleep to pray

I draw my knees up to me
And long for earth's dark womb
Too wretched for Heaven's salvation
Not wicked enough for doom.




my great-grandmother's poem describes exactly how i'm feeling right now and these past few days.

what i know of purpose is what i do not know.

Here I stand. Outside of these city walls
One two three four
I need to become what’s inside
One two three four
I saw an unfenced garden today
One two three four
I need to become inside the city
One two three four
Why are there no doors?
One two three four
The garden had lilies of the valley
One two three four
I hear them inside the city, with papers
One two three four
They are all successful inside the city
One two three four
There was a swing in the garden
One two three
And a very big tree, for climbing,
One two
There is my purpose beyond these city walls
One two
Brick paths all around, and roses
One two
And ivy, lots of ivy
One
The birds sang freely and they sang to me
And they didn’t fly away when I reached to them
The smell of bluebells enticed me
To come and rest my head
Upon the soft grass at the base of the sycamore tree
And so I laid down, lulled to sleep by the smell of lilies
And the sound of the breeze
And the song of the birds
The warmth of the sun, a safe blanket
So deeply I fell asleep
And so deeply I stayed asleep
And so deeply I died.
With garlands round my purpose.

i'm not running away.

I am but a starless sky of a woman
Waiting for a sun, waiting for my stars
Vast and dark, I wait, empty and incomplete
Burning embers seem so out of reach
Help me.
I don’t know how to become daylight.

when...

when you come to me
and you hold me close
our hearts beat against each other
i long to show you all my heart and soul
to say 'i love you' seems inadequate

....

i've always felt an unsoken connection to my great grandmother, vivienne Hoyt (or mouse as my mom called her). I have mouse's handheld mirror and one of her necklaces and one of her rings- all of which my mother gave me. I can't explain this connection i feel with her when i didn't even know her beyond the age of 2, when she died.

anyways, i was reading some of her poetry, and came across something that my great grandfather, 'grandaddy', had written about her:

"Vivienne had many qualities that attracted me. We were alike in many ways; in many tastes; and quite unalike in others. i was a conformist, where Vivien was a non-conformist. I was brought up to accept and respect authority. Vivien, by nature a Rebel, conditioned acceptance and respect for authority on its wisdom and justice and morality. I, by nature, could accept an end result without knowing or caring how it came about. Vivien, on the contrary, had to know why and how. Vivien always had, and still has, a serenity that is delightful, wonderfully soothing quality to live with. She was pretty as a high-school and college girl, but is even prettier now as a middle aged matron. i mentioned vivien's rebel qualities; that she was a non-conformist. these qualities were accompanies by a quaker-like code of morals, fortunately.---over the years together as our lives have blended together, i have seen many of her qualities become second nature to me, and likewise many of my qualities became part of vivien"

i hope to have a love like thiers someday. and, sometimes, i see a little bit of her in me...or what i know of her at least.

vh

and day by day
over and over
the selfsame way
we must learn to live

untitled. -mellors-

I came to you with starry eyes,
And that sweet surprise of butterflies,
That only served to compromise,
My thoughts, my voice, everything I do,
And somehow made them all for you,
As if that could bring me closer to,
The words and thoughts you never said,
And never bothered to address,
Or maybe they were never there,
And it is true you did not care;
One word, even one lie was all it took,
It would have got you off the hook,
And me still here, still hooked on you
But you, you chose to walk on by
I wasn't even worth your alibi,
Instead you gave me vacant space,
Which I could fill with my disgrace,
An mpty face, an empty place,
No loving word, no soft embrace
And now I am at a loss for words,
This is where my evening ends,
There's no Act II to cause amends,
You never touched, you never shared,
You never changed, and you never cared,
You didn't even think to call,
And silence isn't gold at all,
For silence was what made me fall,
Into unpierced, untouched, unused space,
The only thing left of this waste;
It smothers my insides and it covers my face,
So blank, so empty I hope you never see,
That beneath it you've defeated me;
How funnyt hat the only thing you gave,
Is the only part of me left unfazed

an empty title should suffice

You said you had to see me
Told me that you need me
But there I sat, in your empty room
Lonely and defeated

I really thought you knew
That I truly need you too
And that’s what I sat wondering
Broken without you.

I waited in your chair
And your friends were all aware
How I sat alone, while you were home
Left to my own care

My cheeks were cold
no one to hold
No sweet romance no comforting trance
Or love, like I was told

You feigned a quick ‘goodbye’
But you never saw me cry
You didn’t care and were unaware
That I saw you as a lie

I came, I stayed, I left alone
Broken by your wordless stone
And now, alone, I sit and cry
Asking outloud: Why? Why? Why?

Twilight Ashes

Gather your ashes
And call them a storm
Finish your soul
It’s at the bottom of the cup
I’ll keep on the extremities,
I’ll keep.
You just watch the world close to darkness
And hunt the crumbs of pity
Recite what you know
Let your hands to the talking
Bat those eyelashes
Finish your drink
You know all the words to this song
Close your eyes when you sway, spiiiin
This is a balancing act now
A chain reaction from the first sip
And I’m still watching you
In this veneered social musk of diversion
Go ahead, get acquainted with the night
All you know of your purpose, little one,
Is what remains when you can’t remember
And the stains that won’t wash-out
And the blaring, wretched headache of tomorrow
Perversion, perversion, perversion.
This is your brain on methodical socialism
Any questions?
You’ve begun to realize
That you’re not always right.
Am I right?
Of course I am.
Do you remember how to spell everything you used to know?
I judge you.
I laugh when your footing fails and people begin to point and whisper.
I understand that you don’t realize,
But you left your dignity outside, on the ground
It’s dirty now, and smells of rancid piss.
Judgement is always like the drinks,
A free, deliciously disguised demise.
There’s nobody here to save you anymore
And we don’t have any recess either.
Welcome.

a little money down.

because it's not the singer, it's the song,
for only what's written can hold out long.

the rapture of right now.

We’re walking back to the car, the last shreds of sunlight dot the afternoon. His arm is back and around my waist, and mine around his with my fingers tangled in his belt-loop just above his back pocket. I watch his profile as he talks- that slight hunch of his shoulders, his matted and long eyelashes, his effervescent smile, the carefree stubble- those unfailing features that make me love him. he glances sideways at me, catching me and my clandestine smile. Fearing I am not listening, he starts to pull his arm away, but before I can take offense, his arm returns for my safekeeping, and I am filled with tenderness. Our shadows join as one obscure shape, and I find myself wishing we could be joined like this forever, allowed to stay in this moment with the unfailing sense of being young. He lets go of me and I stumble to take the last steps to the car door without him. I watch his profile as he drives me home, my hand thoughtlessly on the back of his neck.
His smile, his lips, his voice. He continues talking, without the faintest idea of how in love with him I am right this moment. He switches lanes, keeps talking. I am overwhelmingly in love with this man, and he think’s I’m smiling because of what he’s saying and he smiles too. God, I’m so captivated.

Without him right now, I feel my body ache with longing for the warmth of him beside me. I long to hold him, to protect him, to keep him, to save him, to be to him everything he is to me. Keats once said that ‘nothing ever becomes real until it is experienced’- I am in the realest love, laden with blazes of amber and gold. I am lulled by the steady rhythm of his love.

written to me on my birthday.

the plastic yielding lawn chair in
a lurching pool
of sweet green, hazed heat,
i consider when my dreams
began speaking in their own slang, argot
when thinness of air and excess
of blue burned them out
sent them away, then
found me here.
this gritty, mordant,
spectrally vibrant, stoked
like the last dying embers,
an epliogue, an
appendix, an addeundum spewing
frenzied glossolalia.

and thinking about that
other, unexpected green,
a sidewalk in summer, an apparition
superimposed, embossed,
arguing with simple existence against
all thought of the mundane,
walking light,
beckoning and unapproachable, tense,
terrifying faberge power
broadcasting promises only of
of ambiguity, uncertainty, short hand,
sea legs, stenographic and painstaking
unspokenness.
that tremor on first glance
resonating still
a string plucked to go twang in
a vacuum,
the same sweet note, never
repeated, moving like
a hummingbirds wing moving still
something like you won't
come again.

me and me.

come on, just you and me
i see the shattered, you're not free

what is holding you back?
why can't you be?
something has locked our mind.
but neither of us can see.

look at me, god, look at you

something is missing
something is locked
something is wrong
something is blocked

it would be you
it would be me.
but its only a reflection
mirror of my broken marquee
you can't be my protection

i will break all mirrors
forget past years
go forward as i wish to be
boundless and broken me.

untitled.

its a young heart.
wasn't broken from the start
life that was
becomes life that is
i can't not remember
it was november
i was young but i recall
her demise, i saw her fall
she was taken away
but never wanted to stay
no words to be shared
she didn't even care
alive or dead
is what they said
silence silence screaming
her sickness was beaming

i'm too old for this
no kiss can fix
shovels of dirt, please
hide all of my memories

goodnight, sweet sickness
goodnight demise
all that she was
me: desensitized.

berringer....1994...cabernet sauvignon

my reflection won't look at me
it rejects everything i seem to be
who stole my paper?
where is my pen?
i'm broken down
who have i been?
i can't look myself in the eye
i see the dripping lie
tear it away from me
tear it away from me
wash me from my mirror
break me from my fear
my grave was broken
i escaped, soul for token
i wander, i wonder
like ivory thunder
i feel directionless
i see me powerless.
somethings not right.
no.

i loose my mind.

i need to know
if things that grow
always have to die
will he and i?

i need to know
i'm afraid to go
afraid to fall
to give my all
unless i'm sure
of loving pure

i fear it all
i fear the fall
i fear the break
can't seem to shake
these fears of mine
and the ticking time

it is all in a glass box
everything is.

i need a hammer.
give me a rock
anything, everything

ma cher rachelle

my love,
a comfort in you
words of myself
truth of my heart
blender in the background
strawberries and angelfood cake
we were, are, and will be
ours mine and yours
which, is us us us
always
i know myself in you
and yourself in me
a forever love
and
a love forever
are
cake and pie
you and me
(plus coffee, of course)

'the universe is shaped exactly like the earth, if you walk a straight line enough, you'll end up where you were'

i fell apart.
i fell.
i'm falling.
i fall.
i'm falling
falling
falling
falling.
.

yes.... there.
i'm falling
there.

love.
i don't know.
i don't know how to know.
i want to.

7408

i thought it was a thunderstorm.


only fireworks.

homesick.

As little kid, we’ve all cried for home. When our little minds become overwhelmed, we knew a little tear, a sniffle, and a simple ‘I wanna go home’ would be our saving grace from the world. When the realities of life became too much to handle, there was always home. I’m still begging for someone to come and take me home.

love i.......

.

i like it in the city when two worlds collide.

my pops, his Pops, all rusty and russell.

overheard my pops talking to my momchick....they were talking about people who have bumper stickers, and american flags in their front yard, and people who have a million pictures of themselves in their house, who frame and hang their diplomas, who wish to have a picture with the president...anyways....i wrote down the following:



my mom read him bits from this article, which i then went and read b/c i couldn't write down as fast as she was reading-->

In 1942, as the United States was entering World War II, the Office of Strategic Services -- the precursor to today's CIA -- was scrambling to find promising spies to go behind enemy lines. One of the aptitude exams it developed was the Belongings Test, in which candidates had to draw conclusions about a man based purely on items in his bedroom: clothes, a timetable, a ticket receipt. Sam Gosling, an associate professor of psychology at the University of Texas at Austin, has made a career of studying how such clues illuminate personality. His premise is that our personalities seep out in everything we do and that expert snoopers can draw remarkably accurate pictures of us by examining the traces we leave behind. Gosling's conclusions are supported by rigorous academic research, but his engaging book is aimed at a popular audience; he presents it as a field guide to the "special brand of voyeurism" he calls "snoopology." Few readers may actually rummage through their neighbors' garbage in search of what Gosling dryly calls "behavioral residue," but Snoop's conceit makes for an entertaining tour of how people project their inner selves outward into the world. Some clues come from explicit, deliberate identity claims, like the Malcolm X poster on your wall or the crucifix over your bed. Others, like the songs you download or the coffee cup you throw away, are what psychologists call "seepage," messages that leak out beneath your notice. The trick to decoding a person's space is knowing what to look for. Offices with plants, knick-knacks and symbols of friends, family and pets tend to belong to women; men display more sports items and symbols of their achievements. Rock fans are less friendly, more artistic and more anxious than fans of religious music. Extroverts offer comfortable chairs and bowls of candy as "bait" to lure people into their offices, while difficult people wind up on the remote fringes of the workplace. This may seem like just common sense, but it's not. We think people with messy, disorganized bedrooms will be unpleasant, but we're wrong. We incorrectly assume people whose rooms are highly decorated and cluttered are more extroverted. We make similar errors in judging people directly: We expect timid, grumpy-looking people with weak voices and halting speech to be anxious and easily upset, and we expect self-assured, smiling, stylish people to be open, imaginative and curious. But neither expectation is accurate. On a date or job interview, you may succeed in presenting a misleading impression of yourself. But since the gradual accumulation of clues in your living space is hard to fake, snooping can yield a penetrating portrait. And that, says Gosling, is perfectly okay, because though we try to put our best selves forward, most of us, in the end, want to be known not for who we wish we could be, but for who we are. Of course, one of the main ways we carve out our identity is by consuming. We surround ourselves with things that reinforce our conception of who we are, purchasing not just the objects we need but also symbols that help us articulate our personal narratives. That's why Ramones T-shirts outsell Ramones albums 10 to one and why, Rob Walker asserts, 75 percent of Viking's ultra-high-end kitchen ranges are never used...

and this is what my pops said: (well, most of it at least, i was writing as fast as i could):

That is exactly why I have never had a bumper sticker, never had a personalized license plate , never put a fish sign on my car, never wore my letter jacket, never put my all-state patches on my jacket, never hung an award on the wall, or a diploma, never sent out graduation notices, never kept pictures of myself anywhere on a wall or in a frame, don't wear lapel pins, don't put signs in my yard, don't wear "I voted" stickers, don't wear "I gave blood stickers", never put decals in my car window of HS- College-Delt- Sooners or anything, never wore a t-shirt promoting a band or promoting anything, never put little knick- knacks in my flower beds and bushes, don't wear jewelry, and never tried to send anything ahead of me to represent me or leave anything behind but a memory of me as a person (preferably barefooted and in jeans).I don't collect "things" that I agree with and leave them out to speak for me, I don't cut out articles that I agree with and send them to others, I just say what I think and that only as a last resort. Being an enigma ,when other pushy people who wear "flair" on their person and allow their trappings to say "something" about themselves, is always fun and enjoyable, especially as they pry to try and search for "things" to define me, and are increasingly frustrated. Why don't they just come in my house when I am gone and search it for clues? What is funny, is that people who have all of the stickers, pins, plates, photos, etc want you to validate them and comment (like "I am showing you all my stuff, please comment-PLEASE") and when you don't give them anything to define you, they do in fact "snoop", and I have found in the absence of finding anything, they usually just make up something in utter frustration, as the need to "be defined" and to "define others" is strong in people who lack confidence in themselves alone, and thus need animate objects to speak for them, and need others to constantly, and repetitively validate them. I "enjoy" in silence, I "hurt" in silence, I "pray" alone without waving my arms or rolling in the aisle, I fear alone, and I believe that, had my mom put one of those "Face" posters, showing the different moods and asking "which one are you today?", I might have cut it up and stuck it in her car window and on the bumper of her car. Fortunately, she knew better and just looked closely at me, the person, for her clues as to what I was. Thats a pretty good way.



after listening to their conversation....my pops read from his autobiography he's been working on...he read me about his first kiss...he was in the 7th grade, he kissed the girl, then weeks later he and his best friend went over to her house and of course my dad hadn't told his best friend about the kiss...and he leaves to get water from the kitchen, and comes back to see his best friend with his arm around the girl my dad was trying to 'woo'. my dad only told his best friend about this incident 35 years later....


last night, me and my pops were going through boxes and boxes about his grandpa, rusty russell, or "pops".....my dad was the kid in his family that collected things from "pops"......and i was poking fun at my dad because there was a big white box that said "pops' things under protection of Russell Morton...touch this box and you will be SEVERELY PUNISHED!!"....his handwriting was that of an elementary schooler...meaning that "Pops" was still alive and my dad, his ultimate fan....i was poking fun at my dad for the 'severely punished' part and my dad replies, with the most humble composure i've seen as if nobody was around and he was all alone, "i loved my grandpa...he was the greatest man i know....he was...he's my hero"........i saw my dad in a new light, because to me he's superman, there is nothing he can't do or can't know...but to see him humbled in memory of HIS hero....was possibly one of the greatest moments in my life....you never imagine that your heros have their heros.

goodnight to the city

i have sentences to cover up all of me.

..

i feel like such an idiot.


i won't be posting--but i've written.

.

break up. break down.
drink up. fool around.

closure. slamming shut to closure.

M: …this is weird…uh…hows home?

A: Walking home….its like living near a waterfall, you just get used to the sound. …it’s been a long time since I’ve really wanted to become a social creature….i couldn’t live in the house where I was any longer…it was part of my plan, my master plan, my five year plan, to go back home at home point….

M: so no driving factors? You just woke up homesick one day? Seems a little out of place

A: I mean, there were lots of factors, one that packed my bag, one that taped up the boxes…you know.

Me: stop the artsy bullshit andy, I’m asking for an honesty that was never there…just tell me

A: Well ever since you left, I was never there…not leaving my room, anxious….precipitated by the feeling that my world was contracting and collapsing…without building on the gross specifics I had to be hospitalized for what I took and it was the last straw…I needed to get into to place where I wasn’t surrounded by theses constant….. Surrounded by…I mean ….everyone I know is scattered to the winds….as an impairment It’s pretty mind numbing….when you’re 26, it’s not like your whole world comes home for the summer.

M: Gosh andy, you’re such an old geezer


A: Yeah I know, my knees tend to give out on me all the time…what about you? Still a teenager?

M: Everyone needs an excuse for being irrational and whatnot…thats why I don’t want to turn 20…no longer being a teenager means no longer having a fallback excuse…and ….i need an excuse for the…for the…

A: for the world?

M: yeah. Why did you leave santa fe?

A: don’t be straightforward or anything…shit…well, like I told you, I felt I had to…it was a lot of different…

M: grow up. I want nouns.

A: You want an itinerary? You want a bank thing?

M: no, I just sat in the fucking backseat, swooning over you, and you were never ever ever there. I am not that type of girl, and I almost let myself become what I loate. So, THAT is why I’ll always be angry at you, THAT is why I don’t speak to you, and THAT is why I want you to say it once and for all, outloud . I just want you to say for yourself.

A: What do you know?

M: too much. Now admit it to me.

A: What? Because when I met you I was with someone?

M: that I didn’t know….you would have let me fall in love with you and never had told me that?…wow…thanks…but…..uh..but no, that wasn’t what I’m talking about

A:…she and i were sort of an item but sort of not…I had no idea where I was going…I thought that that was where you were going……

M: You never told me any of it…

A: There was a long period where we were’t communicatng…you know? You went to school….and…I mean, I really, I don’t I don’t I don’t get it.

M: I want you to admit to whatever you were taking. Admit that you stood me up, left me waiting for 3 hours in the plaza on my birthday while you were tripping acid. And everyother day was just like my birthday. I knew you did it at the time, I was more angry that you never told me. You have no idea what it means to value someone.

A: Ohhhhhhthats…ohhhh…..i’m clean of everything else but you now…except for cigarettes but what are cigarettes really? I’m in my right mind for the first time in many years… but you and I still…

Me: no….no ‘you and I’….no ‘still’…there never was a ‘you and I’ because you were so fucking selfish with your time, giving it all to your prescious drugs. There will never be a ‘you and I’. how dare you keep telling me how you’re in love with me when I’ve asked you not to call. You never knew me. You can’t love someone when you don’t even know their middle name.


Andy: we are talking on the phone in different states… right? …I mean, I recognize ….i don’t know…uhhh…yeah…I don’t know where I was going with that….i mean, I I I suppose that given the…I I I …hang on…let me marshall my thoughts…I’m totally to blame, even when my phone was working…I just retreated…I don’t think there’s been a day when you haven’t been in my thoughts….

Me: you’re sad, andy. Borderline obsessive. You think writing little pieces of thoughts on notes and giving them to me over the course of one summer constitutes love?! I may not fully know what it means to love someone, yet, but I can tell you that I think it comes at a point where you don’t just get giddy or excited when you see someone, you feel whole….and you found that solace in your drugs. You never knew me, you need to stop telling me you love me, and you need to do this now…..you disappear for two months, telling me nothing, and then resurface and think everything will be okay? You don’t do that to someone you love. You didn’t love me then, and you don’t love me now. Accept that

Andy: that’s just true…I’m not…that’s just true…

Me: you fall off the face of the earth then say I’m in your thoughts everyday…fuck that…do you not see how twisted that is?!


A: Shortly after you left for school I followed a practice of falling apart…I don’t mean to imply that it was your fault…but I was nowhere to be found for anybody…I was surviving…in constant battle with myself…it was a long period where all I wanted to do wall fall away from the world…I broke down or ignored most of the things that I valued…I lived in my head all of the time…it was a very bad period…I don’t think ….i …thiat….i wondered about you a lot… I mean it wasn’t any one thing…it was probably…it wasnt a good year….i…I …I .looking at it now..i see it was extremely melodramatic, and I can look at it from a point of removal…

Me: I don’t care anymore. Im done with this. I’ve been done.

Andy: well?


Me: you are nothing but a memory to me….

A: a pleasant one?

Me: a memory.

A : I could get started to being a person to you again…

Me: again? What you were to me, how you were to me, was nothing humane. You are a memory. You will stay a memory. I have a terrible memory, so you will fade and eventually disappear to me.

A : That’s why I did photography… so I wouldn’t forget you….do you remember what I wrote on your arm the first time we met? Just answer me that and then I’ll go, okay?

Me: you wrote ‘in full bloom’

A: I came across you…and I told you…that I loved you. I wrote it on your arm…I wrote about you.. I didn’t know your last name…. I wrote about how I was happy about meeting you….at the time… I wrote in my journal, “TALKNG TO A GIRL NAME MADELINE…” and I didn’t know your last name so I referred to you as ‘Madeline Who’

M: okay. I want to go now.

A: you shound vexed, are you vexed?

Me: yeah. I’m going to go…

A: I still have that note: “dear andy, your note makes no sense to me. Happy Monday.” that note was underneath a cake at my work…you claim to have no knowledge. …..i like to remember things in my own way…not how they happen.,

M: I’m going.

A: I’ll come back to santa fe sometime.

Me: to me, andy, you’re never coming back.

A: a poetic and anatomical coincidence…it would be extremely disappointing to me to be talking to you at all , in this way, in such a long time so easy and natural but then coming to the conclusion that we wont see each other again…

M: you have to stop this.

A: I wont’ accept tat…I will see you again..


M: Andy, you almost broke me. And you were never worth that.

A: but I loved you then, and I love you now…is that not something worthy of forgiveness? Doesn’t love conquer all?

M: I didn’t love you, you didn’t conquer me, I can never forgive you for what you did. I can never forgive myself for wasting my tears on you. You never did, never could, never would, and never will keep me or have any part of my heart, you were never deserving. You’d never be able or capable of stealing the pieces of my heart from the hands that they’re in now.
---I hang up---

---I wake up to the following phone message the next day:
“From that first day I saw you , I knew you…it was something real, I saw it, I didn’t respect it, I wasn’t in a position to respect anything I saw…you got to say your peace to me, so I get to say my peace to your answering machine….i didn’t manufacture anything, I didn’t respect it, I was in no position, didn’t respect myself…I didn’t respect myself, so I couldn’t respect anything I saw…you couldn’t possilby want to leave it at this...you can't possibly want to leave it like this....bell, I love you, and will love you until I die, bluebell…my bell.

This is the story of monotony.

This is the story of monotony
Of rising in the morning
Of coffee, shower, and earrings
Of double checking, and car keys
Of clocking in and smile on
Shoulders back, walk with grace
Smile. ‘my pleasure’, smile
This is the story of monotony
Of clocking out, smile off
Of lights on, left turn, driveway
Of brushing teeth, makeup off
Of aimless goodnights, empty
This is the story of monotony
Of writers block, and solitude
Of empty sleep and tears
Of a dried out typewriter ribbon
Of internal conversations and comfort
This is the story of monotony.

.....

I want to fall asleep to your voice. You keep me safe. And you keep me so well that there are few chances for me to keep you. You asking me to read as you fall asleep was my chance to keep you.

It was one the greatest feeling I think I’ve ever felt, having him call me because he’d been woken up by some noise at 2am. He asked me to read to him, whatever I was reading at the time. I pulled out an old book of fairy tales and read him ‘the juniper tree’. Fifteen minutes later, I could tell he was asleep, but I kept reading for fifteen more minutes until I finished the whole fairy tale. I sleepily wished him sweet dreams, told him I missed him, and wished I could be there with him.

I miss the way I feel when he looks at me


When someone takes care of you so well, you find yourself needing more and more of them and finding comfort in the safety they provide that you get caught up in being taken care of and being kept that sometimes when you’re needed and he needs to be kept, I find myself realizing just how much he keeps me. I miss him. I miss him. I miss him. My eyes burn because they don’t see him. My lips are cold and kissless. My arms are empty and my back is bare. My hands find no comfort holding each other. I wish that I could reach into my daydreams and make him really here. I can’t ask for the impossible, I know he can’t be here to put me to bed when I can’t sleep; yet somehow, I keep wishing.

breakup note

a guy friend and i once decided that we were such good friends, that we should date. So we plan this dinner date, and we've decided that at the end of it there would be a decisive kiss, after which we would know if we were meant to date. So the end of the night brings an awkward and totally out of place kiss. Both of us couldn't help but cringe with disgust afterwards. So over dessert we get really into writing break-up poems to each other on napkins and trying not to upset the other restaurant goers with out obscene and untamed laughter. This was my break-up poem:

I do not enjoy you, Spiderman
you just don't fit in my life plan
Anime is not my thing
and now i wish to end our fling
i would consider a dorky guy
but calling you dorky would be a lie
you rap a lot in japanese
you're always sick you snotty sneeze!
your mullet isn't very cool
when you speak you sound a fool
gaming is for junior high
your pinky nail makes me want to die
you only own one single shirt
from Kmart, so it must be dirt
i'm sorry but i must retreat
i just don't think you're very neat.

i wish i had a copy of his poem, it was much funnier than mine.

2 things written to me...

A stranger has come
To share my room in the house not right in the head
A girl mad as birds

Bolting the night of the door with her arm her plume
Strait in the mazed bed
She deludes the heaven-proof house with entering clouds

Yet she deludes with walking the nightmarish room
At large as the dead
Or rides the imagined oceans of the male wards.

She has come possessed
Who admits the delusive light through the bouncing wall
Possessed by the skies

She sleeps in the narrow trough yet she walks the dust
Yet raves at her will
On the madhouse boards worn thin by my walking tears.

And taken by light in her arms at long and dear last
I may without fail
Suffer the first vision that set fire to the stars.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"might be a little stranger than it is charming, but what've I got to lose?:
i've got a piece of one of your skirts
tied around my wrist.
pretty sure it's effective in warding off hungry ghosts.
Better than a singing bowl
and twice as paisley.

tonight

From the moment that I met you
I prayed I’d leave my solitude
And I hoped we’d be together
I wished that I would be with you

On that night I first saw you
The first thing I thought to do
Was look into your eyes
And give my smile to you

I was yours from the start.

And I know you’re watching out for me
And I’m not my last resort
I know that I am free to fall
Because you’re there as my support

So no matter how my night was
It’s okay that you’re asleep
I wish you dreams of sweet surrender
Knowing I am yours to keep.

4am

I cannot sleep because of your starry eyes
that’ve given me these butterflies
and ceaselessly sensationalize
my thoughts, my mind, my sense, my soul
that are slipping out of my control.

Yet here, alone, in this empty place
Without your words, without your face
Without your arms, no sweet embrace
Alone I lay, alone awake
my skin, it’s cold; my chest, it aches

some nights when the stars are right
and shine in full, unlike tonight
I’ll hear your voice, and I’m allright
But right now, my words are not enough
to comfort me or make me tough

I need you here to fall apart
To loose myself within your art
i need you now, my bear won't do.
because in all the ways, he isn’t you.

I need you here to fall asleep
I need your arms that can hold and keep.
I need your breath upon my neck
Without you, I’m such a wreck

I need your voice, I need your lips
I need your hands around my hips
I need your neck, your collar bone
And the you that makes me not alone.

...

I couldn’t sleep. partially because any whimsical fantasy that may permeate my dreams can’t even come close to my reality and partially because the ceaseless popping renders me a romantic. Seemingly groggy, I roll out of bed and replace my pajama pants with some skinny black jeans but leave the shirt I’ve slept in on; It’s his anyways. Stumbling in the dark I jingle on my bracelets, aimlessly brush my teeth, and slip on my favorite ankle boots. I silently open the door, praying my roommate doesn’t stir from the jingle of my necklace, bracelets, or keys; and I’m gone. I walk amongst the lonely sounds and empty solitude of everything that isn’t 5:30 in the morning. I hide my fear of the morning in my steadfast strut towards his house. I hear nothing but the ‘click, click, click’ of my boots on the pavement, and the ‘jingle, ching, jingle’ of my necklace of keys. I always know I’m just about there when I can smell the remnants of oil and French fries wafting from the Jack-n-the-box right before his house.
The door is locked. I punch in the code that he doesn’t remember telling me, and let myself in. I turn to quietly close the door so that I don’t wake his roommates. Removing my boots, I stammer up the stairs. A sullenly somber face paints itself upon my demeanor as I wander past his empty kitchen and living room (he kissed me on that couch). I open his door and pretend to be much cooler and more relaxed than I let on. MY HEART IS POUNDING. I set down my boots, remove my oversized and highwaisted belt, slip off my bracelets, hang up my necklace, set my glasses on his desk, and slip into bed, pulling his right arm around my waist as I overwhelm myself with his sleep.
tirelessly, he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me to him. A simple kiss on my shoulder and he falls back to sleep. I set my alarm for 7:40am and slip my phone beneath the pillow. Surrendering to his sleep, I loose myself in his arms. Even now, I close my eyes and imagine his right arm reaching around my waist to pull me towards him to fit perfectly in his arms. And I tell myself that this man’s subconscious cannot lie.

i miss having a reason to wear perfume, i miss him.

As I laid down today in the sun
deep piano music began to play in my mind
I’m taken to where my wandering mind cannot resist
To that time, when he stopped, and sat up
With his legs hanging off the end of his bed
Making him to face the window, which means
That I was facing that shadow poster on his wall
And he sat up, like that, with deliberation in his eyes
And lifted my head into his lap
To cradle me in his arms
And looking down at me, he hesitated
I think I might have bitten my lip
And tried to look right, out the window
To disguise my smile, and my butterflies
With his right hand, he turned my face to look up at his
I briefly kept my eyes closed, then opened them to meet his
and I was shattered, i lost it, lost it all…
he had me.
And then he kissed me so deeply
So beyond what I thought kissing was
So much more than I ever knew it could be.
And after, I don’t know how long, I lost time altogether
He stopped, and pulled his head back
And looked at me, to see if I understood,
To make sure he didn’t cross any lines.
I have no idea what my face told him
But my mind was lost lost lost
I am so lost in this man
And I love it.

cold coffee and it's too early

Man, I gotta do something.
Got a little too much on my mind
I may be beaten in my search
but this time, the decision is mine

to leave from the immoral doorways
or expose what I know of
the lies of a sunbathed ivory rainstorm
that secretly veiled an eastward setting sun

Rid me of the perfection
Woven within my soulless constitution
That tells of how I can fly fly fly away
and never return. I beg to be creedless

let someone set me creedless,
let someone set me free
let someone steal my state of mind
and let them save me from me.

I may not be religious,
But god, save her, him, them, and me
because the battle is empty
and boxes of bones are floating


but my words may just be fallacy
and my constitution, just a flame
and creedless be my creed today.
I can’t call upon this day

What I am, is what I know
All I know is windows opening
To thousands of balloons
That’ll take me to where I’ll go

When I loose my way,
Leaving is my sorrow
My pen, my paper,
maybe my tomorrow
it’s been my teacher
my reacher,
its all I know, all I know
it’s been my comfort
and still hides in all my tears
wherever I’ll go, so follow my fears
save me from what I know
it’s all I know
leaving is my past
leaving calls on my present
and it bellows into my future

and while I seem so grounded
ground me more,
ground me more
ground me more
ground me more.

written march 5

last night, he said that he likes my fingers, and he remembers that my fingernails matched my apple on the time of the 11:11 lunch—I like that he thought that way
----also, he wanted to find my hipbones—and then he said he wanted to learn my body—and once, our teeth hit when we attempted to kiss—so perfectly imperfect….i opened one eye when we were kissing and caught his eyes with it….. –he said he had really long eyelashes as a kid--


how did this happen?
What did I do right
Where was the point
Where it became
This perfect?
How did I get here?
When is the moment
When it all goes wrong?



He says I have a cute nose. Asks if anyone has ever told me that—says of course they have. Says he likes that one little curve on the back of my neck, where his hand rested. I want to walk more slowly, savor the short walk to the rec. When we stop walking, he wraps his jacket around me and I lean in, my face pressed against his chest, and would be okay to stay like this a little bit longer. I kept trying to write in my head, to put together words that could perfectly describe everything, and I couldn’t, I couldn’t think of any words. My mind was speechless. I have goosebumps as I write this now…it seems to be the after-effect of the poprocks he gives me with each kiss…..and…I’m still amazed---completely amazed---and stunned and lost and found and everything and still more and…I don’t even have words, still I am stunned every time he kisses me.

untitled.

I’m forgetting to breathe
And the driveway starts to spin
I open my eyes,
With a hope to stabilize myself
And stop the spinning
- I falter- and then I realize
that he is holding me,
And so I cannot fall
He will keep me
And so I smile in my mind
And close my eyes again
To surrender to the spinning
Shedding my fear of falling
Like spinning on an unwinding swing
Uncertain of balance
Embracing the eloquence and irony
of a simple moment’s kiss
and I close my eyes again,
and let myself begin to spin again
because I know I can’t fall

untitled.

and they remain
soulless, lacking, bare
....waiting, i watch the lives of others
countless others
defined, confined
to wheeling boxes, most are black
some bigger
others smaller
old, new, broken, locked
torn, plastic, sturdy, and dirty
yet all the same
and all clandestinely holding, hiding,
identities

empty, the soulless wait
until their defining box is spit out
and begins to ride
around and around and around
waiting to be claimed and owned
by the body belonging to the encased
identity

and so the bodies struggle
and push among themselves
tirelessly searching
and waiting to re-claim
everything of themselves, and their hidden
identity

i watch the unclaimed and forgotten
identities
go around and around and around
in my livingroom

mine?
long lost in the system
give into the arms of the air
too many times over too many years
seen by too many faces, in too many places
and is probably going
around and around and around
somewhere else
waiting...unclaimed, and thinking it's home by now
i wouldn't want it anyways
just re-pack, re-ship, re-check, and re-claim
i've been there before,
i don't think i'll have it back, thanks,
my identity

i think it's filled with too much naivete anyways
i don't want it now,
i bet i'd get away just surreptitiously stealing
another one that looks enough like mine
with wheels, a few zippers
and no tag.

...rkr's lyrics....

--song lyrics from Rachel's song about/for me--

She's just spinning and laughing
she's so beautifully out of control
table dances and short-lived romances
diamonds the same as coal

a barbie doll face
but a real head case
she's standing on the ledge
gotta remember that cut out dolls
have a perforated edge

whatcha gonna do when the tables turn
whatcha gonna do when i finally learn
that it's my turn
when i learn how to burn

she's a beautiful american princess
a prisoner of war
in this battle between the whores
oh my beautiful american princess,
don't you sell yourself short
take this world, reject it
make it further than your last resort

she didn't know what hit her
when she stepped out on her own
the way we isolate ourselves these days
its hard to find time alone

making choices is always hard
but, beauty, here's the thing
she's still discovering new ones
without knowing what they'll bring

never knowing who to trust
she questions what she believes
when you're busy giving
you don't always have time to recieve

its easy to see whats lacking
in this girl who had it all
struggling to find a hold
before she takes a fall

i need to be studying!

There seems to be a loss of words
A loss of things wish to be heard
A loss of me, I left behind
But now decide I wish to find
Dear city, I’m sorry, I no longer despise
You’re a comfort compared to my latest demise
I spent so long dejected, affected
I think maybe I wanted to be so infected

What tragedy!…my writing, so melodramatic
Woe is me! Woe is me! And elaborated thematics
I wrote so much about wanting a home
but maybe, perhaps, I’m destined to roam.
So what, so I write about how I’m not strong
But maybe, I think, its okay not to belong.
‘I’m homeless’, I’d cry, but now to my chagrin
I’ve a lot to write now, I like not fitting in.

exams

2 exams down,
3 to go.
do not feel prepared.
tired. run down. worn down.
average sleep per night: 3 hours-ish
number of notecards to memorize by 8am- 342
number of chapters left to memorize by 8am- 4
number of chapters left to memorize by 11am- 10
number of red bulls i had today- 3
number of starbucks doubleshot espresso drinks- 2 = 4 shots of espresso
breakfast- coffee and redbull
lunch- just the charms from a bowl of lucky charms
dinner- powerbar and teddy grahms.
number of exams tomorrow- 2
number of days left until i'm finished - 2
amount of time i'm wasting doing this-

...

"there is no prize for playing that game"

My mix cd for you.

I want to tell you that I had bad dreams last night
And that I woke up all sweaty and afraid
With tears on my pillow
I held onto bunbun and bear
Because they were all I knew I had
And I was squeezing my eyes shut so tightly
And wishing that they were you
Because I wanted to be held back.
And I want to tell you
That in that sleepy limbo of dream-world,
I didn’t move or turn to find you
Because I knew you wouldn’t be next to me
Because you’re out of town, and I miss you

I want to tell you that I’m wearing your sweatshirt
In 93 degree summer heat
Just because it smells like you
And I keep pretending to scratch my nose
While writing this at starbucks
Just so I can smell you near me

And I want to tell you
That I’ve hidden a little toothbrush
Just for me
In your bathroom.

And I want to tell you
that I’ve tried to think of names to call you
because I love when you call me babe, or b,
(or that one time, when you took care of me
when you thought I wouldn’t remember
and you called me baby)
but I can’t think of anything to call you
because I never know whats right
or perfect

and I want to tell you
that I do not
use baby-talk when I’m tipsy
-I just think your hearing is flawed--
and I want to tell you
that I hate baby talk and that I really hope
--really really hope----
we never use it, ever

and I want to tell you
that when we were at that party at your house
on Thursday
and I fell asleep on your shoulder
with that beer in my hand
when we were sitting on the couch.
I want to tell you it was only my 3rd
And I was just tired.
But what I want to tell you even more
Is that I fell for you a little bit more
When I realized that not only did you stay
And let me sleep while you could have been socializing
But as you woke me up,
That even though my beer was steadily resting in my hands
And wouldn’t have spilled.
That you had taken it out of my hands
And placed it on the table.
That got me…..

And I want to tell you
That you have this way of calling me
Whenever I’m just thinking
That I’m missing you.
--like how you did last night—
when you said you wanted to call me
before I went to sleep
and I could hear the soundtrack
of music and laughter and conversation
that made me know you were at a bar
-you were at a bar, with your friends
and other tanned beachgoers—
and you were calling ME.

I want to tell you
That the CD you made me, that time
when we wandered around the bookstore
--back then I didn’t pay too much attention to the songs
but the other day you said to me
“the lyrics are as if I’ve written them to you,
at that time, its like a letter from me to you”
and so I went to re-listen to all the cds you made me
and I want to tell you, you have me falling
because I get you just a little bit more
now that I know that your music is like my writing

and I want to tell you so many things
like that these lyrics
from the first cd you made me
mean something to me:

“Things I'd say but just can't face
All it means to say them
I could believe the things i feel
Then tomorrow get the same deal
Am i acting on something real?”

And I want to tell you
That you just sent me a text message
..like you always do when I’m missing you…


and I want to tell you,
that I like how you say
“I like it, I like it”
and how you do your hand when you’re making a point
with your index finger touching your thumb as you
move your arm, from the elbow, forwards and back
…for emphasis that your point is right…
and that when you use both hands, you’re being serious
and I want to tell you, that I think you’re cute
when you make that ‘I’m being goofy’ face
when you’re doing something silly,
so that everyone knows that you know
that you’re being goofy
(just so they don’t really think you’re an idiot)

and I want to tell you
that I love your skin
and the way your t-shirts smell
and that you can’t leave the house without making your bed
and that you always lick my nose—without fail—when we’re kissing
and you know I love your arms…
but what I want to tell you
is that you are so handsome
and that I like you’re strength
and I like the placement of your Tv in your room

and I want to tell you, that the other day
when you took me to lunch in Arlington
that that day, because of you,
was like a rainy day to me
and you know that my favorite days
are rainy days.

i want to tell you
I want to tell you
I want to tell you.
And I think, maybe,
I’m getting there.
And still….
everytime you kiss me.
Its like you pour poprocks in my blood.