How could you?
I know we aren't full siblings
But I thought a half still meant something.
How could you not tell me?
And she's your mother.
How could you not tell her?
How could you not
Warn her
At least?
You know how she took it
When he went.
Or maybe you didn't
I guess you weren't there.
But still.

We are your family.
It may not mean much to you
But you mean a lot to us.

Unceremoniously awoken, too early, by nature.
Sunlight infiltrates my eyelids
Even my darkness is a warm golden tone.
My head pounds
And my stomach gurgles.
My body seems to be being punished
For the delight I take in Texan brews
But my mission was accomplished.
I am understood now
And that's all that matters.

I am not the night.

Mine are not the stars and moon
Or the black holes or the planets.

But I can't hold the dew drops and morning glories either
Or the sun or the blue or the twilight.

I am not the day.

If I could choose, I'd be the night.
The poetry of the night calls to me
Saying-
Christine, I am made for you!
Christine, I am all there is!
But I cannot be the night.

However, I see both in you.

Lime green freezer pops
Swigs of senor Jack Daniels
My body gets hot.

-------------------------------

Jacky versus wine
Will fight to the death tonight
Victor gets a home

---------------------------------

Baby-making songs
(The world tastes like raspberry!)
Jazz flute Godzilla

-------------------------------

Little black cell phone
Glows modern techno at night
Rad leaks in my brain.

(I am now a spidercorn!)

---------------------------------

Idiotic cat
Sole bane of my living room
You should've been a dog

--------------------------------

Woman and man-thing
Flame haired goddess of cleavage
Mid-coitus phonecalls.

---------------------------------

Two shots of whiskey
One sibling revelation
Long night of country.

--------------------------------

Blood-baths, hair stylists
****** eye for the dead guy
Joanne: **** the man.

-------------------------------

A nice hairy man
Smirnoffs, beer pong victory.
Did I do a bad?

----------------------------------

I am drunk on you
And on you conversation
More than on the beer.

---------------------------------
Whiskey sours, full.
Half-**** swimming with strangers.
Attraction repressed.

----------------------------
Oh my pretty beer
You so inspire my mind
I can't stop giggling.

-----------------------------
Hank bones on the wall
A sad tale of pretending
Oh no! Demon feet.

It's amazing how a beer bottle can drown out everything else
And all you can understand is that you're pressing it too hard
And your lips are too soft to hold it.

The moon's on the wrong side of the sky tonight.
It's too big for me
Too blue.
Politics are too big for me too
So I'm glad you can hold the conversation.

I don't want to hear anymore
But my bottle's been recycled
And the only other thing that drowns it all out is your lips
And they're occupied.

I'm kind of glad they are
Because otherwise I'd voluntarily become deaf
And that can't be healthy.

The moon's on the wrong side tonight
So I'm glad you're with me.

I'm well aware it should be over
(unless it's just the hormones talking).
I'm not the kind of person he really wants
Other than "white" and "female".
He's not the kind of person i really want
Other than "nice".
We just fell together
Two lonely teenagers in the dark.
But every time I imagine it
(Me ending it)
I just see his face when I tried last.
That crazed look
The breaking down
The begging
That slightly disturbing dependency.
There's no way I can do that again.
Right?

I can't hold that burden.

(Can I?)

Nothing came to me today.
No phrase, no
Juxtaposition of words
Sat my mind
And made me pay attention.
Today is the first day I am meant to be an adult.
Now I have bills
And checks
And balances.
Why did none of it seem important?

I love you now, my sweet honeybee
When your collector is full of pollen.
I'll love you then, my lovely hummingbird
When your bright, buzzing wings have fallen.

I loved you then, my dear brown buck
When your antlers were still sprouting.
I'll love you forever, my protector, my pet
Unflawed, unending, undoubting.

I miss you.
It's dark and it's night
And you should be laying beside me.
We should be tossing and turning
Together.
I'm tired of being apart.
I'm tired of not being tired.
I want to be able to
Feel you behind me
Or to see you
And to put my head on your chest
And listen to music in the dark.
I miss you
And I can't wait til we're together again.

You know you can make me forget
So please, just make me forget.
Make it go away.

Whisper through my screaming thoughts,
Kiss me through the blood in my mouth.
Hold me through the steel bars I'm feeling surround me.

Make it go away.

Just kiss me, kiss me please!
For when our lips meet
The world melts.
I melt.
Liquid can't think, either.
Liquid can't be tortured.
Liquid can't cry.

Envelope me with your body;
Make me believe in man again.
Or at least let me forget what I know of them.

Desperately me body needs a distraction
A release, a vent
It needs you.
I need you.

I need you.

The future is grimunexcitingdepressingunwanted.
Too late to change anything, though.

What a shame.

You are covered with sweat, on top of me.
It drips onto my naked body
My naked face.
I lay there
Trying to look like I'm enjoying myself.
Smile.
Moan.
Arch.
I don't think you're buying it.
After you're done
You smile beatifically
And kiss me
And tell me you love me.
You tell me you were trying hard.
I wish I could tell you that I benefited
Because I know that's what you want to hear
But I can't lie to you like that.

I do it for you.
I hope that sometimes you believe me.
But I don't think you do.
I love you.

Two insomniacs stirring in the night.
Eventually, one gives in
To the temptation of a dream.
The other cannot do so.
She stirs in bed, changing positions by the minute.
Her head won't shut up,
Full of abstract phrases
And pretty words.
If only she could do the same
While being unconscious.

There hasn't been a night since I met you
That you haven't starred in my dreams.

Sometimes protector
Sometimes lover
Sometimes victim
Sometimes villain
But always you.

I guess I can't get enough of you when waking
So my subconscious picks up the slack.

You have invaded every inch of my being
But sometimes invasions are positive.

I don't think that she believes she's beautiful.
I mentioned
Under the influence of alcohol
Under a flood of familial emotion
That she's always been the pretty one.
It wasn't meant as a compliment
Just something to cheer her up.
A reminder.
Facts are not compliments.
But her reaction astounds me
Confuses me.
How could she not know?
Every woman has doubts
Self esteem issues
Different thoughts on beauty
But I always thought she was the base
And therefore knew all.
But I guess she doesn't.

She's always been a beacon of normalcy
The lighthouse I aim for
When I try to socialize
When I try to look acceptable.
I know I can't reach her level
But she is what I aim for.
My petite
Thin
Blonde
Beautiful sister.
Funny
Intelligent
Easy going.
She's always had friends
And boys
And a life I never even thought I could achieve.
Not because it was particularly amazing
But because it was so beautifully normal.
She is what I've always tried to become
And always known that I could never measure up to.

What's this mean for me now?

It's really sad that this won't last.
My creativity comes in spurts
And I'm not ready to let it go yet.
It's possible that obsessing about its exit will spur it on
But I can't help it.
I love the part of me that sees and feels and hears and understands
But it never stays.
I wrote a story once, with the help of a friend.
At the time it was beautiful, a tragic tale of love and lies and hope and hate.
Looking back all I see is stylized garbage, with the core of an interesting idea.
I hope that's not what these end up being.
I want my prose to be cherished and seen as a testament to my love of words
My love of ideas
My love of thoughts and brainwaves.
But I'm scared that that's not going to happen.
That's why I don't share it.
If only I see it as garbage in a year
It won't be as bad as if my whole life is aware of my failure.

I hope this is good.
I hope this is cherished.
I hope I am real.

You will soon find another girl.
One who is worthy of your affections
And who doesn't tempt fate at its every turn.
A better girl, a braver girl.
And I know I will have to let you go.
I won't be able to sit with your at two a.m.
And listen to music with you
And have real conversations, which are so rare in all the others.
I won't be able to feel your fingers trace patterns in my hair.
All of you touches will be hers
And all your words will be spoken to her.
I know this
And I don't know if I'll be able to handle it when it comes
But I do know that while I have you
I will feel every minute, minutely
And try to extend every second into eternity.
Please let me.

I read recently
That free verse is not poetry
Will never be poetry
Never was poetry.
Sometimes I question it myself.
But the writer made it sound so...
Indecent.
Now when I set down to write
If it has no specific rhyme and meter
Then I feel *****.
Like I'm the lewd young girl
Who's gone around the block a few too many times
And then gone straight to her grandma's house.

It makes it hard to enjoy  the trip.

You wrote this
It says.
Written as a whisper.
You wrote this
It tells me.
It serves a reminder.
You wrote this. You did this. This is a product
Of your mind.
This is all yours.*

It is a sign to remind me
To be proud
To show myself respect
To be in awe
Of what can happen
When you let your insides out.

He's leaving, too.
One was bad enough.
Now two are going away?

It's his life.
It's his decision.
It's not my problem.

But he leaves in two months
Who knows where he'll go.
Another desert
Another bomb zone.

Another brother out in the world.

My hair is a jungle.
Wild and dangerous
The color of a palm tree's trunk.
It flows down like a waterfall
With wild rapids at the bottom.
The mysteries of the Amazon are in there
Along with the fire of secret indigenous tribes.
Layers of complex ecosystems
(similar to the various hormonal states of a young adult female)
Make it a treacherous place to venture
But some come out alive.
You cannot tame the wild jungle
Unless you cut it down.

Like the forgotten birthday
Of a dead girl you knew once.

Like the time of a tradition, now fallen apart
With no family left to keep it together.

Like the twelve days of Christmas
Where no one notices the first eleven.

The anniversary of past love
Recently deceased.

Oh come on.
Seriously?
You know perfectly well
There's little I wouldn't do
For a klondike bar.

My hips won't quit
But I've tried many times to fire them.
They continue to exist
In all their circular glory
Making me see my body
Through a fish-eye lens.

My feet won't stop
But I've tried to make them tire.
They grow longer and wider
Until I am convinced I am
The cousin of the Yeti.

My stomach won't end
But I've tried to find the bottom.
It keeps on truckin
Until I resemble a forty year old man
Who's drank several hundred too many bars.
Apparently there's always more room.

My body won't quit.
My brain won't stop.
My heart won't start.

Water bubbling merrily!
Pots filled with vegetables
All bright colors and anticipation
Waiting for the delicious nutrition soon to come.
Poppopbubblebubble!
I smell barbecue chicken in the oven too.

When all your sense know it's there
You know it's dinner time.

The scanner is my weapon
I wield it with authority
And power.
BAM!
$7.95
POW!
$20.65
ZAP!
Your entire soul!

They give me what I demand
And leave with
The tail end of the bargain.

You wouldn't believe
The thrill that goes through me
When you say I'm pretty.
The tingles you summon when you touch me
Are electric enough to power the country.
By the time you walk me home
The wetness you inspire has taken control of my legs
Or lost control, I guess.
I will take whatever you feel you can give me
And what you've given so far, gives you a halo.

Killing me, or parts of me
       But only in the best of way.
Ever strong, ever open;
       when at the worst, the best.
Variable, voracious, vital
       even victorious, occasionally.
In time, consideration. In time, concern.
       Affirmation, creation, recognition.
Now only this; nothing more, nothing less.
       Now, only us.

No one understands just how hilarious I am.
My sarcasm is perfected
To a spear-like point
And my allusions are consistently charming.
That is why I have, dear blog.
No one knows you, you know.
But only you understand me!
You laugh at my jokes
Which are rarely written
And you see the depth of my greatness.
Thank you, good sir.

I know he loves me.
And I love him, as much as I can.
I just get so
Frustrated
Sometimes.

It's hard to love from far away
When there's problems up close.

I feel so restricted
But theoretically, I'm not.
I just want
crave
desire
A few months of freedom.
To experience something else
Before I settle down for life.
I just want to be able to see
A little bit
Of the world.
I want to see someone else's world.

I don't want to lose nights under your arms
Dusks in your eyes
Mornings in your hands.

I do want to lose those nights lying alone
And those dusks observing what I would never be a part of
And those mornings, feet away from you.

I don't want to lose you.
But I do want to lose missing you.

I'm just afraid the two must come as one.

I think I'll shut it down.
It's nice
And simple
And classic
But it's not necessary anymore.
If I'm here,
I don't need to be there.
Yes?
And here, maybe
There might be some benefits
Whereas there I'm hiding by myself.
From myself?
Who knows.
Who cares.

I'm afraid of this.
This one says poetry.
And that's scary.
When something has a name
It has expectations.
If something has expectations
It has failures.
I'm tired of failure.

How big can a star be?

Big enough
To cloud your judgement
(Or maybe just rethink your life?)
And free your mind.

Bright enough
To blind you to the world around you
And force you to focus.
Focus!

Hot enough
To burn your cells
And leave enough scar tissue to make sure
You never forget.

Blue enough
To make blue your new favorite color
When you hated it before.

Powerful enough
To make you really look at the sky again
And see the night as magical.

So maybe sometimes
I dig in your eyes
Half-believing falsehoods are physical things
And if I just look hard enough, I will find them.
I can pan them out, like gold in Oregon Trail
But really more like bugs in my food.

So maybe sometimes
I breathe, in/out/in/out
Before I tell you I love you
Because maybe I'm still a little afraid.
Because I don't tell people that
And I don't like to be vulnerable.

So maybe sometimes
If your arms aren't a vise at night
I wonder if you are trying to give me the option to escape.
And maybe I wonder if you need one.
Maybe I wonder if I should treat you like a genie:
"I wish for your freedom."
The problem being I don't wish for that, at all.

So maybe sometimes
I want to remind you
That you aren't chained to me
And there's always an out, if you want it.
Not that I do.

It's just that maybe sometimes
I have trouble believing in you
And it's not your fault
It's just in my head
It's just in my history.

But maybe sometimes,
Like you said once,
I don't like myself enough to believe
You would want to stay.

so beautiful
so attentive
so smart
so hairy

not worth the consequences.
he is more important. (?)

(on sober observation
he was still beautiful
and attentive
and smart
and hairy
and he still made me happy
on that warm drunken night.)

(i thought you were supposed to regret?)

melt me down
condense me to my base elements
make me what i am inside

melt me down
burn that layer of filth outside
and let my core breathe

melt me down
see me, me, me
see my insides and yearn for them

melt me down,
against my will.
against my better judgement.

if you want to see, see.

I've been looking through my box.
You know.
The one I use to keep my memories
So that one day, when I'm old, I can show my children.
"This is what your mother's life was.
This is who she was, once."

But see, the problem is it's filled with you.
We were so happy once.
We were so in love.
I see these pictures of us
At proms, *****, inside your car
And I see that.

There is no way these people could not have been happy together.

But things change.

I don't have any pictures of you
From after the middle of senior year.
From when we started growing
Separately.
From when we started falling out of love.
Or at least, I did.

But I have your notes
Your photos
Your movie tickets and circus stubs.

I have your photos
And we were just so happy.
We were so together.

I'm not going back to you
I don't regret what I've done
But it's just hard to understand
And hard to see that smile
Even if it is frozen in time.

It's amazing what you don't remember.
I don't remember
What his ***** tasted like.
I have an impression in my mind
That his groin smelled bad.
I remember how it started.
I remember that it would never have happened
If it weren't dark
And I hadn't been so lonely
And my self esteem hadn't been so low
And I hadn't already given up.
If he had been facing me
When he tried
It wouldn't have happened.
I'd I had seen his greasy face
It wouldn't have happened.
I don't regret it.
I never cared about him
But it was just another
Part of the past.
What's the point of regrets?

I think he knows.
But there's so much
Of those months
[or was it weeks?]
That I have no memory of.
Most of what I recall
Involves a stained skirt
A little truck
And him parading around like a proud ****
With his naked ******* in the light.

It's not entirely positive.

Sweat creates a sheath on my forehead
Created from internal struggle, not outward heat.
It seems my insides are causing me the most pain lately.

I can feel the destruction
Practically hear my woman-ness being torn down.
Feel walls and tubes and eggs, all dying.
A tornado laying waste to what makes me me.

Pain that radiates throughout-
It hits my legs after it moves, draining them of power
Feet, too.
Then upwards, to my biceps
And finally my mind.

Pain different than any other
Unique and terrible
A thin to both study and abhor.

Make it go away.

I want to sit out at three a.m. again.

Tension instead of air
Stars instead of sky
Music instead of thoughts

Your hands on my body
Questioning

"How much do you want to live?"

Flip. Fold. Straighten.
Flip. Fold. Straighten.
Flip. Fold. Straighten.

The same
Ugly embroidered cotton shirts.
The same colors
Fabrics
Stiff stain-proof pants.

Eight hours
Of flipping
Folding
Straightening.

This is my life now.

Sweet, smooth, bright-green beauty,
Chunks of chocolate perfection
Generously swept through the soft swirls.
An ******* minty dessert.

She spent half an hour in front of a mirror this morning
Trying to make herself look
Like someone else.
Trying to make herself look
Like someone she's not.
Knowing all her work would fall apart within the hour.

Knowing she would never be able to fool herself
For as long as she needed.

I wanted to write something
About how people are never as important as they think they are
And how the actions of others don't really affect me.
But I waited for inspiration to strike, and it just wouldn't come.
Not that there's not evidence.
So I'll just write this note.
No poetry, no prose.
I'm not sorry if I offended you.
I'm not sorry if you think I dislike you.
I'm not sorry if you think I have a vendetta against you.
Honestly, it's all in your head.
You don't matter that much.

I thought the Shell sign was the moon.
The music on the radio, the stars.
Both burn yellow, you know.
Both are beyond my comprehension.

The curves of the highway creates mountains
For me to scale and caress.
For me to climb with ease and freedom.

The world is my ocean
And you are my vessel.
Let me sail these seven seas.

I think her life went in sections.
Clearly defined.
Dysfunctional family
Independence
Trying again
Raising kids
Finding herself.

I really like where she's ended up.

Sleep always clears my head.
I wake up the next day
And realize
I do love him
Everything will work out.
Our happily ever after will be
As powerful as the amount of work we put in.

Superman boxers
Big little mister pops out.
A friendly greeting.