how absolutely
unassuming one will be
blind-sided by love

Rivers are meant to be peaceful,
But I promise,
I'm no Virginia Woolf.

I'd love to share a moment,
But sharing was never
One of my best skills
When I was a little girl.

I don’t necessarily fear death. The thing is that I know it is going to happen and although I may never fully understand why it must or grasp the concept of it, I accept it, I accept death just as much as I do living, but the thing here is…I still haven’t fallen in love a second time after having my heart broken that first time. There are many note cards I haven’t written to the people I love, to the people I admire. There are botanical gardens I’ve never been to and literal roads I’ve yet to take. I want to drive through them, walk through them, jog through them on foggy morning, sunny evening, mid-winter day. I’ve never tried playing the banjo, bought a lottery ticket, or lived with roommates or a boyfriend on the second floor of a four story apartment that overlooks a deli shop somewhere in Los Angeles or New York City. I still haven’t treated my grandmother to a gals day out, I’ve never dyed my hair some absurd color, I’ve yet to taste a  crème brûlée. There are so many courses I still want to take, so many things I still want to learn, clubs on campus that I want to be a part of, books I’ve yet to read, songs I want to listen and re-listen to. There are still things, so many things, there are still the words “I’ve yet” and “still” and more than anything the words “I’ve never.” These are the words, these are things that get to me, that fill me with restless thoughts and wavering emotions at 5 05 am. I can hear birds chirping and roosters cooing from outside my window, my parents heartbeats are lovely and synchronized a bedroom over, the voice of sufjan stevens is resonating from my laptops speakers, my legs feel hot underneath this linen sheet and woven blanket, my eyes don’t feel as tired as they probably should, and I am not ready. I’m not ready to let this all go. not yet. and that, although not death itself, is my greatest fear of dying.

Everyday I think of you,
I don't know what to do.
No where to turn to,
Nor could I undo.
Hard to see from a different point of view.
This may be out of the blue
But I don't have any clue,
Not even one or two.
You don't know what I've been through,
Put yourself in my shoes
And you'll understand the pain too.
I don't know what you're up to
But I've withdrew.
Meeting you was taboo
I wish this was untrue.
Well, thank you
For what you've put me through.
You wasted my time talking to you,
Without further ado,
I'm making my debut.
Starting life anew.

scent of plum blossoms
on the misty mountain path
a big rising sun

i know i'm a rich girl
when i stare into your eyes
i see dollars everywhere,
                   and they don't match
                   the glimmer in them

you dig the materialistic, sentimental, american traditions
i dig you more than any of that crap
and you ask me how i view this country
and i want out,
                            out,
                                        out

there's got to be profit in having none of it at all
there's profit in getting yours and my own bodies
together,                      because you're not
                      into running away, but i want you to

                     we go on road trips, we go sailing
                     and i want to bring the heat out of this
                     hype before it bites us both

Baby I've been drinking about you
like I need new brakes;

I just can't stop.