tinesha-garcia
I'm just a gal in search of an adventure. / I like really shocking things, morbid things and cute things. / My favorite thing to do is live on the beach in a sleeping bag like a bum. When I was little I would always pick my scabs and I've always hated my birthday. Until this year. / I've got things to tell and show you, all I ask is the chance to do so. / I long to travel the world with my soulmate. / I'll find them one day, they're currently lost. / I don't like chocolate things. / Owls, pandas, CATS. / I have an irrational fear of sneezes. / I love talking to people. Seriously. Tell me your random amazing stories. / I'm in love with love. / I like to go to open mics. / I wish to have a stage show, and I'm currently working on making one happen with some friends. / I think that music is capable of beautiful things. / I'm a proud alto. / Sometimes I still pick my scabs.
Chest-pounding, calf-wavering fun suspended effortlessly between the riverbanks, and hot, sweaty faces scour city limits for madness.
Beneath our towering majesty rainfall is upward
and all we hear is our inconsistent drumming.
Distant breath stirs our spirits with
promise of bubble wars christening a new dawn.
White hares peek out with wandering eyes of our huge black hats,
rumbling and grumbling, awake with a thirst for severed limbs.
Populated ***** stalks surround your amoeba of love
erasing time
and line
and rhyme
Jun 1, 2011
Jun 1, 2011 at 5:43 PM UTC
My wounds bleed war paint and
there’s an air of mischief on your tongue.
When chaos propels itself on our sweet plans
we are reminded of our wavering energy to hiss past the unexpected.
An appetite for freedom can’t sustain starving artists.
I often imagine life as a black and white silent film.
Those rust-tinted spectacles stay concrete on the bridge of my nose,
Dancing giraffe-men on stilts boisterously
taunt the congressman on his crackberry,
ask him what he’s livin’ for.
Give me your half-drawn dreams to hide in, give me your blood.
Because mosquitoes never tire of kicking you when you’re at your lowest.
Give me your childhood ambitions and carefree summer nights, and
you’ve got guts, kid,
you’ve got guts,
to careen over rooftops in search of a paradise.
Sway in narrow alleyways in the major cities and
feel the warmth of life occurring.
Jun 1, 2011
Jun 1, 2011 at 5:34 PM UTC
Hello operator, won’t you lend me an ear?
It seems my days have grown dark and
Daylight no longer suits me, it causes me to faint.
One step out my door and my body seems to shake.
I trek to the store by myself, all the while ever shaking;
I tremble, I stagger, I stumble about.
The world knocks me over in it’s. gusty. sighing.
I tremble. I stagger. I stumble all about.
I feel too unreal to be awake.
I must be walking on clumsy dream clouds and dancing with queens, they’re cackling cackling cackling.
Elegant gowns and mad-possessed crowns, they’ve invited me to the moon.
I open my eyes and
I tremble. I stagger. I stumble
back home
to wait
for my date
with Night.
The stars will be our only entourage ‘til dawn.
Jun 1, 2011
Jun 1, 2011 at 5:34 PM UTC
Where will you be when the room starts to
swirl and the patterns on the floor aren’t patterns anymore?
Wow, you sure do have a pretty shiiinnneeeee…
We share visions of the other side-
When you stare off into space, does the air ever
shiver? Shivers like you can see past the
crafty mask of your happy home.
It’s cold in this house.
And the door just won’t stay closed.
The river’s eaten your children
while you’ve been fixing your hollow face.
Wow, you sure do have a phony smillllleeeeeeee…
Somewhere in your routine you’ll find peace.
Somewhere in your peace you’ll find your answers.
And after you’ve found your filthy truths you’ll wither
away into the eternal wrinkles of dawn.
Jun 1, 2011
Jun 1, 2011 at 5:30 PM UTC
Sitting inside of a dusty shell
Alone, by the side of a lonely road.
Lonely Road rests right next to
Fancy Street, on the hot side of town.
Infinite moments. Definite possibilities.
If we still feel human, then we’ve done ok!
The blossom has opened up once again,
I want to dance playfully in the tall grass and await
the deep purples, pinks, oranges of the setting sun.
Burn the stars into your skin, be stricken.
There are sweet, candy melodies stirring in the wind,
you start to sink,
you start to sink.
For the first time, you’re a stain on the earth.
You sink too deep,
you sink far too deep,
And now, for once, you meditate off of that enchanted highway.
And if you still feel human, then you’ve done ok.
They frighten me. Those possibilities.
Jun 1, 2011
Jun 1, 2011 at 5:29 PM UTC
I went to the zoo and stole a giraffe.
I went to the zoo and stole me a giraffe to ride.
I went to the zoo, and stole me a giraffe to ride into the sunset to face my duel with Death.
We left around dawn the day before last,
The sun’s at our backs as we head west. West. West. WEST.
Out here there are artificial stars and fast cars and
The women shine out there and
The men are sly out there and
The kids aren’t shy out there and
The beach is where salvation is found,
Battles are lost,
Things seem sound.
Lust crawls around every corner and free love is king.
Keep the chaos rolling, keep the fires rising.
Death is near. Creeping, seeking. Seeking, creeping.
We call on our Purple Princess to aid us as we reach the Cliffs. And she
calmed me down and she slowed me down and she shot me. and she shot me. and she shot me. and she shot me. and she shot me downnnn
Jun 1, 2011
Jun 1, 2011 at 5:25 PM UTC
Hey darlin’, you make my soul feel like flying to the outer depths of the solar system, so that I may float effortlessly between time and dimension and truly feel alive.
Float here next to me, share this space with me.
There’s an asteroid river spiraling over our heads; swirling video game galaxies, and marshmallow-flavored stars.
They can’t tell us what to believe in anymore and they can’t make me substitute practicality for dreaming.
They can’t tell us what to believe in anymore.
We’re burning this city tonight, and we’re using your limits as fuel.
Jun 1, 2011
Jun 1, 2011 at 5:23 PM UTC
Oh, how the wind blows softly upon my heated brow.
And the scent is not only sweet, but familiar. And fresh.
It's going to be an exciting ride, that much I can promise you.
But don't go looking for a romance novel,
what we're going to have deserves a symphony proposed by trees and windchimes made of rocks we found on the Moon. We're going dancing tonight.
I'll kick and scream but you know that only means I want to go more than you know,
so take me anyways, put my red heels on.
You see handsome, dancing is all about attitude, which you know I have plenty of. So there's no excuse not to go out.
You see, there's the chemicals flying and the temperature's rising,
The stars are erupting love glue because tonight I'll be with you.
And the chimes will never chime so deliciously as they will when the clicks and taps of our shoes do all the talking.
Click, click, clack. Tap, tap, tap, tap.
Translated it means I love you.
Apr 14, 2011
Apr 14, 2011 at 11:13 AM UTC
Love and be loved.
Love this and that.
Love me.
I love you.
Love rain and soppy kisses.
Love tonight.
Love tomorrow and what it brings.
Love NOW.
Love here. Love there.
Love everywhere.
Show love.
Give love.
Always.
Love solves.
Love heals.
Love learns and expects.
Love is just.
Love is effortless.
Love tastes.
Like everything.
Sweet breath.
I love it.
I love you.
Love isn't perfect.
Love smells great.
It's scary.
But that's what we love.
Love knows.
Love grows.
Love soars and roars.
We are lions.
I love it.
I love you.
Love and be loved.
It hurts but we like it.
Scratch, itch.
Love's the cure.
Love is ****
Love is screams and moans.
Love is toasts to ghosts.
Love is touch.
Touch me touch you.
I love it.
I love you.
Apr 14, 2011
Apr 14, 2011 at 10:18 AM UTC
We’ll be building card castles inside of our ship,
sailing on a sapphire sea full of translucent hearts.
All beating on the same weary tempo,
the tempo of deluded delights and fist fights and
Harmonic Impulses.
To sleeping on our rooftops and singing aloud,
To painting our expressions and flying with lost leaves,
To creating ripples and the Butterfly Effect,
To finding truth in today and escaping hyperbolic doubt,
We’ll toast in sunsets to our Harmonic Impulses.
Forever sailing our iridescent sailboat, we’ll skip the stars and get right to the point:
An avalanche of swirling, misty galaxies promises that tomorrow will forever be the best and dandelion rings are now true symbolism, my sweet.
Feb 10, 2011
Feb 10, 2011 at 4:14 PM UTC