once a boy told me my eyes remind him of the ocean and i thought to myself what the **** is this boy high on. he then continued to explain that my eyes arent the kind of coffee brown that you could stare at while you slowly stir. my eyes werent the brown dirt of forests that he would set on fire just lovingly watch them burn. my eyes are like the ocean not because they are blue but because "have you ever tried to describe the ocean to a room full of blind?" he asked and i was still not sure what he was onto "well you cant because they cant grasp the idea the serenity of that picture you are describing to them because there is so much to it and thats what it is like with your eyes i can never fully grasp what it is but i can never gaze too long because it feels like they'd swallow me whole and i would always imagine what it would be like to describe your eyes to a room full of blind" then i understood what love was.

you asked me to come:it was raining a little,
and the spring;a clumsy brightness of air
wonderfully stumbled above the square,
little amorous-tadpole people wiggled

battered by stuttering pearl,
                                leaves jiggled
to the jigging fragrance of newness
—and then.  My crazy fingers liked your dress
….your kiss,your kiss was a distinct brittle

flower,and the flesh crisp set
my love-tooth on edge.  So until light
each having each we promised to forget—

wherefore is there nothing left to guess:
the cheap intelligent thighs,the electric trite
thighs;the hair stupidly priceless.

OH MY ******* GOD.
I need a night out.
I need to drink.
I need to do lines of snow.
I need to dance.
I need to go crazy.
Swim in a heated pool at three am.
Throw a bottle of ***** in a wood chipper.
Scream at the top of my lungs.
Turn a few girls gay.
And walk around like I own every
******* person in the room.
Someone take me out.
I'm bored.
I need a power trip.