You say you like it rough,
you're a tough city girl,
grew up on the mean streets.

But what if I smacked your ***,
left hand marks on your lily white skin.
And what if I thrashed you from
every angle for sixteen hours.
And what if I twisted you in knots,
And what if I tied you up
and took you by force.

Now, I'm not sayin'
I'd do those things,
I'm just sayin'
what if
tough girl.

"We're gonna go through some **** eh? Tough ****, if you stick with me.."


                                                         ­          Baby, I promise. I'm not all that easy.

"Marry me"

                                                            ­                               What? Are you crazy?

your lips turn
in loving lines
on your face


"Well baby, I'm crazy bout you but that's not what I'm saying.
Listen, look at me.
I know life's a ***** right now and you're not even 18, but I can tell you in all the deepest sincerity that you're the girl for me.
One day, in a different place
A better time, our own space
We'll live a simple, joyous life
and start a small family.
I love you so much.
Just please don't leave me."*

And for once
in my entire
life,
I've fallen head over heels
& believed.

I just cant explain

the way everything is what it's supposed to be

even when I'm in pain

I am unadulterated. I am free

It gives me shivers

so deep in my bones

my soul decides there's no time to give up

not even when I am at my most alone

this life gives me goosebumps

I feel like a mammoth sometimes
stomping and clomping and trying to find
Where all the other mammoths went.

Sometimes
it all seems so real
     Like this reality weighs heavily on my chest and I can’t breathe.
my stomach jumps and sends this cold fire throughout my body and I feel it.

I feel the world boiling in my consciousness and there’s no release that could possibly be worthy of this feeling.
Then I tell myself I'm just being dramatic and I tamp that feeling down with my fear and sadness and a yearning for eventualities.
Sometimes I’m not sure what I mean.
Sometimes I make stuff up.
But really I’m just an awkward almost-twenty year old who wants her life to be something.
Extraordinary
But.so.is.everyone.else.
And isn’t that right?
Isn’t that rich?
That we are all one.
A vast ocean of “ones”.
I’m really just a wave.
And it is alright to be a wave.
Because waves, they move.
It’s alright to be dramatic though. Why not?
I have this mind that wants out and I keep suppressing it. At least I’m pretty sure I do. Maybe I don’t. Maybe it is only on occasion that I tell it to shut up because it all is just too much.
That’s probably it.
Who am I really?
I guess I could list all of my traits and that could be who I am. Or what I have accomplished in life, and presto, you have…me.
Then there’s this consciousness that sits inside this flesh and controls it. That could be who I am. But that consciousness is just the acts it has achieved and the traits it has portrayed, is it not?
So I guess what I’m saying is.
The I that is me has not achieved satisfactory on my scale of living by which I measure my worth.

Not yet anyway