A spark of fear on every syllable
a hint of it on the tip of my tongue
and I am a snake- a viporess
Ready to combat Burroughs himself
Burrow himself in a hole
don't come out until winter time
until the Russian cavalry comes galloping in and my lord
wont this be interesting
A real match
I must retire to my chambers
1 minute 2 minute
God, have I discovered writing?
Joyous, glorious
as the life spills on her pages
What a treat to the historian himself
Tick tock tick tock tick tock!
A day in the loony bin!
Congratulations congratulations congratulations
Analogous to Berkeley with androgynous beings
Fly away Pegasus, fly!
And I am high
You know what's good about getting high?
You forget everything you just said
But you know everything was/is? connected
Good morning brain!
You haven't been up for 18 years
Welcome to the world,
where life is light and bright
How does it feel?
This is right
Hot to cold, just like that
Can't see, only feel.
Loose Buttons
Pregnant with a platypuss but this is high time
Wackadoodle > Lackadaisical
Dictionary please
Much hate but night night
Oct 19, 2015
Oct 19, 2015 at 4:06 PM UTC
There is something incredibly comforting
and incredibly American
about sending a man to the moon
the science and math
the innovators and hard working
pull yourself up by your boot straps
Americans
named John and Bob
who come home after a long day
have a beer
and sit on their porch in a suburb
Something desolate and empty about the moon
alone and quite, completely silent
and the unknown
the fear that those up in space must have felt
how did they feel when they kissed their families goodbye
not knowing if they were going to see them again
uncertainty uncertainty uncertainty
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 1:40 AM UTC
There once was a girl
with dapple plump cheeks
who looked to the sky
to see if the heavens may leak
from them some message or sign
from somewhere in the divine that could
answer her questions, no matter how meek
this girl grew into a lady and explored the world
no matter how vast
this was her chance
to turn her
what ifs
into
realities
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 8:06 PM UTC
Laying together half asleep
I turn towards you, feeling your heart beat when mine beat
slow
lazy
kisses
your hand tracing my spine
my hand cupping you cheek
breathless
tired
we fall into a blissful sleep
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 11:05 PM UTC
It's all very exciting
at first
everything is new
and fresh
and surprising
you learn
everyday
about
them
you go
to new places
share food
try new things
then
you start
to
memorize
you know what side
of the bed they like
how much milk
they put in their cereal
the emoticons they use
when they text
their ringtone
when they call
and you ignore it
the thrill is gone
and now you sit
with take out in your lap
watching the same tv show
as you did yesterday
and the day before
there are no more surprises
or new experiences
you stop trying
to learn about this person
you used
to gravitate towards
you sit in bed
and wonder
if you really need them
or if you just like
the routine
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 1:29 AM UTC
Cheers to the misfits
to the kids
who sat in the back of the classroom
and at the end of the year
people still forgot their name
cheers to the kids
who dyed their hair a crazy color
decorated their faces with metal
and welcomed the criticism
cheers to the kids
that spent every lunch in the library
until the librarian was their best friend
cheers to the introverts, the extroverts, the freaks, the geeks, and all those in between
cheers to you
because we all deserved it at one point
we didn't just live
we survived
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 12:49 AM UTC
write
write when no one is around
write when you know no one will read it
write for you
and only you
the rawest, purest writing
is found in old journals
notebooks
scrawlings on napkins and shards of paper
write when you you've had your first kiss
or what felt like your first kiss even if it was the hundredth
write when you're falling apart
let your pen fly across the paper
and let your emotions bleed out
because when you are done
and tired and numb
you'll have a piece of art
write just to ******* write
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 12:42 AM UTC
I want to dance with you
I want to take you to the ocean
to splash in the waves
and collapse with you on the hot sand
I want to watch cartoons with you
make pasta
and look at furniture in Ikea with you
I want to buy couple's Halloween costumes
You'll be Shaggy
I'll be Velma
I want to lay in your arms and read a book
I want to wake up early in the mornings
while you're asleep
and lay still in your arms
trying not to wake you
I want to memorize the contours on your face
the marks on your body
I want you to comfort me at 2 am
when a character in my book dies
I want to quote Casablanca with you
and think about you when you aren't here
but above all
I want you in all your perfect imperfections
because we quote Casablanca wrong
we never got the Halloween costumes
and we overcook the pasta
because of this, I want you forever
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 6:57 PM UTC
How do I fix you
when i need fixing myself
How do I give you advice
when i am just as lost
How can I be a shoulder to cry on
when i'm crying too
How can I help you
when i still need to help me
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 6:48 PM UTC
I hate haircuts
calling and asking if they can take a walk in
trying to decipher the woman's thick accent
going into the store
empty desolate
a man behind the counter
looking up lazily from his magazine
his monotone voice
asking if I have an appointment
he tells me to sit in the chair
asks what I "plan to do"
"with life?"
"no, with your hair"
because right now my hair is more important than my existence
I hate having him touch my hair
and the faces he makes at the split ends
I hate his fingers brushing against my cheek
and seeing the Hot Cheeto evidence
on his thumb and forefinger
Ellen is on one TV
Arthur is on the other
a little Chinese girl
running around the store
asking for her phone
phone?!
she can't be older than 4
and she is asking for HER phone
the man doing my hair
gives it to her
I look at his paper license at his station
memorize the spelling of his name
look at the party streamers on the walls
the broken baseboards
the edges of the wall
that the paint couldn't reach
I hate as he tries to make conversation
asking where I go to school
what my plans are for the weekend
monotone
monotone
monotone
looking at my reflection in the mirror
not looking at him cutting my hair
I notice the grease on my nose
how poorly I filled in my eyebrows
I get sick of my reflection and look back at the baseboards
finally he is done
he blows the hot air of the dryer in my face
I cringe
he shakes out the apron and I look at the floor
I am on the floor
my DNA
everywhere
I pay and he spends 15 minutes looking for change
touching my hair as I leave
touching it in the car
touching it at dinner
I hate haircuts
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 6:34 PM UTC