My boyfriend is my lap top computer
Yes he exists
Yes I have met him
I have met him time and time again
touched his face, tasted his sweet lips, and heard him humming me to sleep
I have done all of that
and I have had him ripped away
across rivers
and mountains
and state lines
State lines carved in our hearts deep as French, German trenches
and as wide
as that song they keep playing on my Pandora
and I would walk five hundred miles...

So
My boyfriend
is my laptop.
When I cannot see his face
there are his photos
and a few youtube videos.
When I cannot hear his voice,
skype sends itself to me.
And when I long to hold his hand,
I can push up to my laptop
and feel the whirring warmth
of a hot hard drive.

Is it the same as his chin on my shoulder?
How he's shorter than I am
but he still rests there
with a little difficulty
and so much love.
Can I feel a laptop
breathing softly on the back of my neck at night?
Can a laptop
stop my nightmares?
Surf the roaring waves of behavioral disorders?
Or even really hold my hand?
No.
It is not substitute.
So I will wait.
I will wait for my love
just until I have the time to last up my shoes
*I would walk 500 miles...

Fajitas? For Breakfast?*

Well

I still feel pretty.

There are days when I write
that my thoughts are black and sticky
tar on the windshield on a January
It drips down my pen or gunks up my keyboard
and I sob at the mess that's slowing my down
always slowing me down

There are days when I write
and my thoughts are ghosts
they just want to lay down, but the shadows make them jump
possibilities alien or needed frighten them
and their only artwork
is a plea for help

There are days when I write
and my thoughts are spiders
and I work feverishly
my paintings and poems smeared by eight long legs
angry, violent, (secretly scared)

Those are what people like.

There are days when I write
and there is absolutely nothing wrong.
what a lovely morning...
*I think I'll write a poem