"Let's make snow angels"
She said to the boy

"But there's no snow...it's summer"
She laughed and lay down in the field
Spreading her legs
And throwing open her arms
As the grass shuddered
And surrendered
The shape of heaven

"There," she said and
Stood up
Walking away into
Her own silhouette

Leaving the man to
Stare at her outline
In the empty field

3am is so unkind
to a lonely longing mind

Lately, I've been disassembled,
Rest assured... in shambles.
And my minds been sliding
About the tasteless hardwood floors,
Collecting delicacies unknown to sadnesses.
It's been a while since I've tried to drown,
But I think on the corner of the kitchen
And lounge-room floors,
My mind found something
Worth living for...
How ever subconscious it may remain.

We are like fish in a tank.
We don't know that we're trapped until someone sets us free.

I have three and a half dark-haired fellows of ardor

The first
Plays guitar like an angel does a harp
Watches the same nerdy tv shows as I do
His smile lights up any room.

The second
Is the star of drama class
Is one of the friendliest guys I know
His smile lights up any room.

The third
I dont talk to much
My friend fancies his too
His smile lights up any room.

And the half...
He broke my heart long ago
But I somehow find myself thinking of him late at night, when all is quiet and dark
His smile lights up any room.

I just want to write one more,
      before I become an adult again.

I got my hair cut
Again
Yesterday
In a small salon the filthy streets of Philadelphia's Chinatown;
The golden eagle
Appropriately named as I always feel wings lift me when I leave
Though the streets are grey and black with dirt and grime,
The salon is clean, chic, and welcoming
First one young lady with limited English swept me up to be dropped into the care of a second who washed my hair and luxuriously massaged my scalp with exquisitely long nails
Then I was led over to a swivel chair to ponder my reflection and bat my legs as a little child, waiting on Kelly for my grown up haircut
At last Kelly was free, and she too whisked me over to her mirror
In her most exceptional care she cut and thinned and cut and razored and thinned and cut some more
Her fingers flew, running through my hair and seeming to drop pieces of hair by magic
At last she styled and stepped back nervously asking if I liked it
Quickly scrutinising it, running my fingertips over the much-shortened hair, I looked up
And grinned
I love it
The bangs barely long enough to brush my eyebrows
The back as short as a boys, bristling when I rub it the wrong way
The front long and soft enough for tousling but short enough to stay out of my way
If I envelope my head in my hands I can easily trace the contours of my scalp
As though a couple silk scarves were draped over a barren skull
I was told I look like Emma Watson or Audrey Hepburn or a boy
But I love this
They're both stunning women
And I don't mind shocking a few old ladies with the surprise that this "strong young man" is I'm fact a girl