I am loud,
Demanding attention.
I know when I am being charming
Because I try.
I put on my impressing face
And do my impressing hair
And speak my impressing words.
I tell you my embarrassing drinking stories
And everything else about me
That you probably shouldn’t know.

I am not good at being quiet
Because that’s not who I am.
I am not the sweet girl
Who will leave you with a smile
And a touch
And a glance
Or a single word.
There is nothing of this fashion of romance
About me.

I am the girl who will point out your flaws,
And take you outside to see the stars,
And remind you how human you are,
And what a wonderful thing that is.

I am the girl who will talk about science,
And music and theology and history,
And point out constellations, laughing,
When you don’t know the big dipper’s name.

I am the girl who will make witty references,
To classic literature and science fiction,
And will tell you stories of how I once,
Made a gingerbread replica of a lighthouse.

I am the girl who will stand on a table,
And sing at the top of my lungs on the highway,
And act like a chicken or quail or velociraptor,
Or nuzzle your face like a lion to make a point.

I am the girl who takes too many shots
And then coaxes you to bed on a Russian liver,
And knows all the right places to bite, and tease,
And follows with exceptionally coherent pillow-talk.

I am not a thin silk scarf on the wind.
I am not a thing hard to capture.
You would not spend a perilous journey
Through a wild, perfumed jungle,
Searching for my slender garments
Hung beside a pool
As I wail to the breeze.

Rather, I am the bird who flies overhead
Making too much noise
Distracting from the trail ahead.
A bird whose plumage proves
What an interesting life it must be…
What a colorful life for me…
Perpetually strange
The lone comic relief.

I am many things.
But I am not quiet.
Of this I am sure.

Father time abuses his starry-eyed children until lips split,
bruises leave teachers feeling uncomfortable and unnecessarily involved.
Drink up the rocket fuel,
burning makes aches evaporate like **** on pavement,
amending memories until they are only fuzzy recordings of grinning cartoon cats.
Smiles are happy, so true,
but mirrors do not act on impulse so yours must require some more work,
mine was slashed on eons ago,
back when the dinosaurs were glorious and people walked on all fours.
Grindgrindgrind
gnashing teeth and splintering calcium,
he took note of the emotion,
accepted
and moved along,
unharmed by reality
too ignorant to accept absurdity.
A smart lad, curious
he built me a tug boat
to tug along the rivers of consciousness
though I'd rather the alternative
of sweet sweet bliss
and a fistful of throats.

We rage
like hormones
like hyenas in heat
and ruin homes
(not on purpose, just on Fridays)
So grown up,
we're so grown up
with our mature parties
and relationship problems.
Look! I'm pregnant!
I'm oh so grown up!
We puke up jello shooters
and mama's meatloaf,
wipe the whithered corners of pale mouths,
smile
giggle
hazy glazy eyes
in smokey basements and tree houses.
Oh no,
I do not promote it
I only smoke it.
But what can we do?
I must be thin to be ****,
drunk to be interesting,
naked to be loved.
We need the skin contact
because God knows we can't communicate by words,
either by tweets
or  haphazard ******* in back seats.
We are so grown up
because we accept the filth,
the naughty,
the concepts that un-rad corporate burn outs can't comprehend.
Wisdom in destruction,
life in suicide.
So allow me to fill my nose with shaymen's powders,
so that I may regress
to the days that I was Daddy's ballerina,
and school yard games lacked dark ****** undertones.

I should have known better...

I should have known better than to think you would be the same girl i fell in love with so long ago...
Some of the most basic texts for an an intro biology class could have told me that each and every one of
the cells that make up the human body die and regenerate...

Most of which do so in less than a year...

So why am i so surprised to find that all that was you died in the years since we last spoke...

Even still you stand and speak with her voice...

You even remember me...

But you are nothing more than a clone of that woman i loved back then...

So here i am a man that firmly believes in the laws and rules that govern the world we live in attacked and brought to his knees by that one little speck of an idealist that lived somewhere in my soul at some point...

All because foolishly i believed that biology was a secondary force when put up against the intangible

things that make this cold and lonely life worth living...

I thought our love could survive...

This time it took for both of us to become entirely different people was too much for out love to bear...

You are not her...

Even if you have her face...even if you have that smile...

Even if you have those eyes that pierce the soul that i didn't even know existed until you showed it to me...

And what's worse is that now you show me that in no way am i the same person i once was either...

Between pulls and heat and crossing and lines lies
unease, eased between my two halves, focused to
split me in two. Sanctuary was to be unique and new.
Only the darkness was new,

for in the void

my voice was lost, and silence smothered my shaking.