You call a kitten or a baby
cute
But a young woman?
It's almost offensive!
As if you will never be called
pretty
And never ever
beautiful
Might as well not be called anything
If all you'll hear for the rest of your life is
"cute"

A new haircut,
Receiving in activities
Like oral ***
What's the difference?
You only feel like a new person
For the first hour or so
Then
It's back to your regular old life
Feeding yourself
And perhaps the kind feline next door
You aren't sure who it belongs to
But it comes to you when you make that little clicking sound
With your tongue
And you sometimes wish you had all the time in the world
To waste
On silly things that are nowhere near productive
But they make you feel good
Like that new haircut

Forgetful little flower
Only learned to follow
But never to follow through
With the little things
Like her dreams
He loves me, he loves me not
Was all she could think about

Don't touch me
Don't look at me in a funny way
Don't take too long to respond to a question
Don't walk slowly in front of me
Don't even breathe if you can help it
Don't talk too much
Don't laugh at my frustration to try and ease the mood
Just buy me some chocolate
Sit 5 feet away
And shut the hell up

Silent sighs pour into my coffee
Fingers tap a cigarette
Toes tap to a beating drum
One. Two. Three. Stop.
His eyes shift around the room
Sorting faces with forgotten names
This feels like home
But we all know it isn't
Twiddling thumbs and nervous laughs
Thoughts so random they hardly last
Violent scribbles on fragile paper
Secrets exchanged through rushing whispers
This feels like home
But we all know it isn't
Blank stares and feigned concern
Everyone searching: for truth
Everyone suffering: writers block

If I had better hand writing, baby, I'd write to you every day.
It doesn't help that I forgot what half the alphabet looks like in cursive, or I'd try that instead.
And my type writer is broken...
I knocked on your door about a week ago.
But when I heard your footsteps, I ran away...
I'm sorry.
I'm all out of excuses.
Maybe I should call...

Bruised hands
Sweaty brow
***** skin
Blistered feet
Tired eyes
Broken fingernails
Chipped teeth
Dry lips
Swollen tongue
Scratched legs
Ripped jeans
Stained shirt
Messy hair
Runny nose
Empty stomach
Poor thing,
Didn't you know?
You are never
Ever
Supposed to fall in love
With a train wreck.

Lost your cell phone? Might as well lose your pants!
Now how will you know when I'm calling you?
What if its important? What if its about where to meet for lunch?
You probably don't even know my number by heart, do you?!
Well this is just great! And you type too slow to try emailing me!
And you don't even have a car to drive over to my house!
You sound so out dated right now! What will you do with yourself?
You can't just write letters for the rest of your life!
And what kind of person doesn't own a TV in this society?
The newspaper isn't good enough anymore!
You're hopeless.
At least you have a lamp in your room and not a lantern.
...Right?

Can't. Stop. Thinking. About. You.
Perhaps a lobotomy is in order.
You shouldn't be on my mind this much.
Nobody should.
I should know better than to think.
Hope.
That I'm on your mind even a little bit.
When leaving your presence,
I often find that I'm grinning like a fool.
Heart beating fast.
Occasionally blushing a little.
Trying to think of what was just said.
And if I said anything terribly stupid.
Haven't felt like this in years.
Am I really so naive?

I don't ask you how your day is
Because it's probably better than mine
So usually I wait for you to ask how mine is
So I can finally cry
And be vulnerable for once

My shoes can never stay tied
And they don't make jeans with short enough legs
So my pants are always ripped at the bottom
Mom shrunk my favorite sweater
So now I don't even bother wearing nice things
Or washing my car
It'll just get ***** again, anyway
That's not to say I don't shower
Hygiene is still an important factor

I wish I had a typewriter
So I could pretend to be fancy and old fashioned
I would write stories and make that little "Bing" sound every time the paper moved down a line

Why is it we always want what we don't have?
It's like we never have enough in this world
Are we selfish or is it just that need for a new adventure?

All I really know anymore is
Even if you think you are having the worst day ever
There is always someone out there
Who is having it much worse

He walks around the mall by himself
And pretends he is on the phone with somebody important
In hopes that people will find him to be an interesting person
That maybe once he gets off the phone they will come up to him
And ask him for some advice over coffee
And that they will care to hear what it is he has to say
But instead they ignore him
And he doesn't know why

She puts her hair up in a ponytail every morning
Not because she doesn't like the feeling of her hair on her shoulders
But because she wants the other girls to see she has a hickey on her neck
In hopes that they will think she is really popular
And that they will want to hang out with her to see how she gets all the guys to like her
And that they will think she is pretty
But instead they ignore her
And she doesn't know why

I never knew how to tell you this
But I always pretend to know what I talk about
In hopes that people will think better of me
That they will enjoy my company at parties
And that they will want to be around me more often
And maybe someday you could notice me
But instead you choose to ignore me
And I don't know why

She dances with her toes pointed
Hands delicate
Arms flowing
Hair pinned up
He watches her with adoration
A bouquet of roses
Card neatly signed
Ring in his pocket
They watch as she moves across the floor
She spins around
Silent and graceful
Eyes shining
The curtain falls and the lights dim
Crowd cheering
Hands clapping
People standing
And behind the curtain, when nobody is watching
She kisses
The woman
Beside her

Its hard to fall in love with someone
When you can't learn to love yourself
Its hard to stand in just one spot
When you were obviously born to run
Its hard to tell people the truth
When you are constantly lied to
Its hard to remember faces and names
When you are always forgotten
Its hard to be proud of who you are
When everyone questions your dreams
But its harder to sit and do nothing
When everyone else is wrong

When was the last time I had coffee?
Can't recall, which isn't a good sign
Survival is crucial, and to survive, one simply needs caffeine
This world today is so cut-throat
Are you sure you're ready to step outside that door?
Did you remember your jacket? Did you pack enough socks?
Reading a book on a rainy day used to be convenient
Now I want to read to stay out of the sun
Skin cancer is a terrible thing you know
Drinking to get drunk is only fun in public
Do it alone, and you'll be crying in your room over sweet nostalgia
It's too easy to get distracted from your goals anymore
So many ******* curve ***** coming at you in every direction
Spinning you to face another door
Will you go in? Is it really worth it?
You'll never know until you try
I for one like my coffee blended

He reaches for the door to enter the cafe
Right as he does, a woman on the other end shoves it open, nearly hitting him in the face
She manages to mutter a half-assed apology and strides by him
She smelled like cigarettes
He walks in and looks around for a trash can
As he goes to throw something away he sees a book on top of the pile of garbage
He picks it up and wipes the ashes off of its tattered cover
With a nod to the waitress he walks over and takes a seat at the only empty table
The seat is warm
He examines the book, turning it side to side
There is no title
There is no author
He shrugs and opens it to a page with the top right corner bent inward
In the center of the page his eyes are drawn to a word circled angrily in black ink
Patience
He takes out a red pen from his shirt pocket and underlines the word
I need to learn how to be more patient
His thoughts go off about the woman who had brushed past him
Was this her book?
He looks out the window to see her standing at the bus stop across the street
She turns her head in his direction and they make eye contact
"Is there anything I can get for you, sir? Perhaps a cup of coffee."
He hesitantly looks away from the woman and up at the waitress
She gives a concerned, but friendly smile
"Erm, no. I was just leaving."
He picks up his hat from the table and leaves with the book tucked under his arm

A cigarette hangs from her chapped lips
Nails painted **** yellow, now chipping as she clacks them on the table
Her wrist watch is broken so she has to count in her head
One onethousand
Two onethousand
Forget it
It's been about an hour now
She pretends to read a book but instead she stares at one word on the page
Patience
Her lips pucker over the cigarette and she takes a deep drag
With a disgusted sigh she exhales smoke like a dragon forfeiting a battle
One onethousand
Two onethousand
"**** patience,"
She gets up, throws the book in the trash, and leaves

I get nervous when a flock of birds flies over my head

I get headaches if there isn't coffee brewing in the morning

I get excited when the power goes out


I get light headed when you kiss me on the lips
(in a good way)

There you are walking with her, your hands tapping against each other from time to time. I can tell you want to reach out and take her little hand. Oh, how I wish it were mine instead.
She keeps glancing up at you, smiling. Her perfect white teeth glowing and her stunning blue eyes lighting up as you smile back. I'd like to imagine that deep down she's a *****, but truth be told she probably isn't. That wouldn't be something you'd go for. That's probably why you and I would never work. I wasn't always a ***** though. Not that you'd remember.
Wow, look at you! How much you've changed! You look stunning, gorgeous even. Unfortunately, so does the woman walking beside you, tapping the back of your hand with hers...
She really looks beautiful from here. I sure hope she turns out to be a *****. It would make me feel better, though I can probably never have you either way. Not anymore, at least.
This is the first time I've seen you in the city since... Nevermind. I should probably stop staring at you. You're bound to look over at any moment.

Once on a frigid winters day
I sat and thought of things to say
Or not to say, to stay looking sane
The snow piled up on the window pane
The look of pain on your face was so atrocious
Winters cold sting was all too ferocious
Where does one beginning end, and another begin?
Thoughts such as these will make your head spin
Your heart broke on that winters day
When I failed to think of something to say

the words are on the tip of my tongue
and yet they come out of my fingertips
thoughts spill and splash and bubble over my brain on a daily basis
and i ***** them out into a blubber that you can't grasp
or maybe you just don't want to understand
that i'm not your average joe
that i make more mistakes than one should admit
and that someday
i'm going to write all over these walls
and fill every space with words
of beauty and truth and downright nonsense
maybe then people will get it
writing is the only thing left in this world
it is the only thing that will keep us going
yet nobody wants to tell people things they dont want to hear
because that would just be outrageous
but we need to
the day we stop thinking on our own
is the day the world will end