Because I know I've got good intentions
But no one else here thinks I do
Is it because of a bad impression
Or because an honest word is something new
I guess it doesn't help that it seems
I've something that I try to hide
Behind a bitten tongue, a shared bottle
And another starry skyed black night
We sit here in front of a fire
Sharing stories of fires past
Most are told by perfect liars
Yet they all think that mine move way to fast
Don't they know that's how all the best things happen
That, and they're often all done out of sight
And just because they unfold quickly
Doesn't mean they weren't done just right
The fire keeps on keeping on
While the group breaks off into smaller cliques
And as the bottle drains its way to empty
They look for other things to wet their lips
Couples start to vanish in the fog
To places that are best kept secret
Like vampires running from the sun
They disappear from places kept well lit
A small blonde with a pixie haircut
Takes my hand and leads me somewhere silent
She kisses me, hands on my chest
And tells me we need to keep things quiet
So now I sit here with my mouth shut
For just the second time tonight
But the hush didn't last very long
My voice was given up without a fight
I remember when I cut my hair
Because you preferred it short
Now you're gone
And I'm sitting here
Wishing it was long again.
for every night we giggled on the floor
and every cigarette we smoked in your house without your parents knowing.
for kissing one person good morning and another good night
and every yearbook scribble about living together.
for matching haircut,
for matching eyes,
an every freckle on your perfect body that i told you drove me insane.
for every lunch you ate on the bathroom floor.
for every person i told you were a dropout.
and every minute i spent yelling about the jellies in the sea where you got stung.
for being into typewriters,
for being into talking,
and ever golden lock of hair i pointed out,
for the things you wanted added and
for the things you wanted removed.
for the holes we put in our bodies
this is just to apologize.
It was my first time
I was fifteen years old
And it was 8 inches.
Eight. Whole. Inches.
Laying motionless in my hands,
Long and lifeless as I stared excitedly, nervously
My first ...haircut
I spun around in the salon chair to see my exposed jaw, shoulders, neck
Holding in my hands a ponytail that would soon be sent to Locks of Love
My first legitimate haircut, not the simple snips my mom would attempt in the bathroom when split ends were too unbearable,
A real style
Back straight and shoulders proud,
Uncertainty left on the tiles beneath the feet of beaming confidence,
Leaving dead the sheet that covered scared eyes and shy smiles…ever since I've developed an addiction to change,
Can't leave it the same for more than two months
And the chime of the door behind me opened endless opportunities:
Brown, auburn, gold, red, blond, yellow
Brown black, blue black, soft black, natural black, always back to black
Straight, curly, layered, cropped, feathered, fringed, shaved
Undercut, mohawk, faux hawk, that weird thing where I gel it to the side and kind of look like a boy...
And yeah, sometimes I get sick of the sexist comments
People telling me I've got a boy's haircut
That short hair is for men, but
So were the olympics and voting and public education and getting published,
And thriving in the workplace and wearing pants,
And god knows im not going to give up either my Levi's or my razor
I'm not going to keep worrying; man's words will stop me from doing what i love
And I've been called lesbian, boyish, butch, manly, androgynous, anti-effeminate,
But I know I don't stand alone.
So thank you, Natalie Portman, P!nk,
Rihanna, Katy Perry, Anne Hathaway,
Kaley, Megan, Erin, Kim, Skylar
I don't know all of you well,
But the risks you've taken with your hair
Are an inspiration to those who care
So short haired women,
Keep doing your thang.
She moved away when I turned 9.
She's the best drummer I've ever met.
He used to sing Ocean Avenue when we walked to class.
He said that no one could keep secrets quite like me.
He told me to learn how to say no.
It didn't seem as important as it does now.
She was half my height but had twice the heart.
She was the nicest friend I ever had.
He'd wake up at four in the morning to go running.
He read a lot of books and never spoke to me.
He wasn't quite the fastest swimmer on the team.
I wasn't quite the slowest.
She likes shelves and the color red.
She hates sloths.
He is the fastest swimmer I knew, but I'd never seen him swim.
He told me that he liked my haircut when I hadn't cut my hair.
He told me I owed him four years.
I don't owe them anything.
Poetic break necks weak at the knees
And I'm looking forward toward the danger
Magic underneath the fingertips
Money burning in my hand - twinkling coins
Deep seeded experimentation
Where fuel and passion the only fuel
Bohemian day dreams wet with guitar sweat
Crying moon unlit, undead, unresolved
Faithful love entwined with wicked angel
Poetry being only other peoples dreams whose goals
Have no names; treacherous young hearts obsessed with the nameless
Every indented bloody street corner fixed on the hips that sway
Round ass, square eyes, coming of age in an animalistic way
Putting my front foot down and my left hand up
I see clouds bursting into yellow infrared flames
Corner stores accepting variations of resumes
Dot coms colliding with wolf sneering meteros who dance
With the enormity of definition - never admitting defeat
Feasting on risk, we live like God's for we are GOD'S
Sameness tossed to the train tracks mixing with balloons filled with your past
Mentioning old lover's
Not mentioning lover's you'd like to have with old one's
Barking dogs prescribed a suffocation millions believe lucky to accept
A window frosted over white and outside a trying tree bent double
As if weighed down by hundred pound rusted chains
And in the background lingers the secretive ghost of Burroughs
Not knowing Him, I say nothing to him, though I know he is there
To shake is steak would be to make what he worked so hard to make
There, breath is dead cold, the lungs constricted by the passion of expression
So stifling for so many want to show it
Mentioning competition, the sister laughs, "The town is old, the people dead, the streets
Drinking." She nodded at her own
Comment, while everyone else sitting around sat silent. "And another THING," she continued,"
A friend of mine named Sheridan needs a bathroom to take a SHIT and she needs it NOW."
I sat back, touching the thin strands of hair on the back of my neck, feeling I
Needed a haircut and a drink.
Alive in this
I see what I wish to see
Monty allows anything
He's always drunk
Never touching a drop
You always complained,
hated the way you looked,
Felt you had to compare,
Yet on you I was hooked,
You Felt you were chubby,
you hated having a scar,
Despised the stretch mark tummy,
Said your teeth were quite bizarre.
You, so strong and Independent,
Hating being between Jobs,
Living in poor conditions,
Stuck in a house full of slobs.
All you wanted were the girls,
Who were (wrongfully) taken away,
You could talk of them for hours,
Always having more to say.
You find all these faults and flaws,
You tell me that you're "Broken"
Yet you're perfect in my eyes,
I leave no praise unspoken.
Your eyes, like gems, They sparkle,
The way when you smile, they're amazing.
Your voice, cute, feminine, airy.
I really did love it when you'd sing.
The hair? Good god. That Moe Hawk.
Worst haircut choice you ever made.
And the Beiber haircut? Speechless.
Your independence I could not dissuade.
Yet you were still her, the one I wanted.
The looks always grew on me in the end.
You made me honestly happy, Love.
I thought you'd always be my best friend.
The Piercings? Attractive. The tattoos more so.
Everything I wanted I saw in you.
Your curves? Your body? Your shameless flirting?
Incited a lust in me no other woman could do.
You strive so hard to be individual,
Beautiful, Strong, Smart, Charming,
Even now, that you've left, your smile,
So pretty and pure, still completely disarming,
No matter what I've said in Jealousy and Anger,
You're an amazing woman. I just can't lie.
We may never even talk again after this,
We may not ever be able to see eye to eye.
But I think you were my "one",
Cause I am affected by no other,
I'll never forget you, Jen,
The Music loving nerdy Mother,
But now I'll walk away, while wishing you the best.
Hoping you find the happiness you want so badly.
It seems our chapter has ended, in such a poor state.
If you change your mind, I'll be here. Open arms. Welcoming gladly.
If we leave the litter behind,
and run until our legs become a burden and our heads start to swell and come loose like a white-cloth-Arabian-silk turban,
we can make it home before 5.
Past the market that only makes sense in the sun,
along the terraces slipping from their foundations,
skip on-top of walls before falling back into our run
behind the street of seared spice smells, conjured up by different nations.
We’ve left the litter behind.
We’d run further than these cities and their boundaries,
take transport to the tops of heavenly high hills,
cause havoc amongst the machinery of the foundries
and make it home for five if we run through those mills.
We’ve left the litter behind.
Holding hands we’ll remember the brush of the grass on our thighs,
farmer’s fields and the dark brown cut-throughs we took,
our pockets full of receipts and chewing gum supplies
and the look of your pale blue eyes amongst your fresh air haircut.
I hope the litter don’t mind.
Had dinner with my family
Today I celebrated my birthday
Aged today and things are looking up
Got hired new job thankful
New music to hear stimulate the ears
An exciting movie to watch lights up mind
Writing in a new notebook
A clean look new haircut
Chance and opportunity came my way
Thankful for today and everyday
Clean mind straight edge avoid alcohol
Kourpt ppl I escaped on my way
You can call me Alex or Alexandra
The first time I said I liked girls my voice broke
Everyone turned to me as if I had cursed at the dinner table
My mother told me to go take a shower and think about it
But mom, you can't wash off who you are
And yes, I have been thinking about it
In a small town news spreads like wildfire
I was the walking disappointment in the middle of town square
I had been reduced to it till I was purged of this evil that threatened to claim my soul
No one would sit next to me in class
And everyday after the assembly I was taken aside and told I would burn
Hell had no mercy for those like me
But people, you don't tell a sixteen year old child that she is possessed by the devil
And the other day when I went to get my hair cut
They loped it all off
And they said there you like to fuck girls now you can be a man
But a bad haircut doesn't make me a man
And all the abuses you can throw at me won't change who I am
And I stood there with their glares digging daggers into the back of my head
The old man cursed dyke, and the parents covered their childrens eyes
As if I had a disease they would catch if they looked for too long
And they threw a burning stick in my front yard and said burn you deserve to burn
So i did
I burnt myself piece by piece till there was nothing left but ashes
But remember you can burn down one Alex, one dyke, one unholy sin but
There will rise another and another and another
Till this world will have to change and then
There will be a dyke at every street corner and
I will look you in the eye and say how many will you burn?