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 Apr 2014 Oco
reflectionzero
the  future  is  coming*

I'm often reminded of this when
the other students in my class
ask me what my major is.

“Liberal Studies,” I say.

The follow up question is always the same cookie-cutter inquiry.

                        “So you want to be a teacher?”

                                                      “No, not really” I say.

                                        At this juncture the person who is blandly     asking the questions begins to express
genuine interest in what I might do next
in the “real-world,”
spiked with a fear of the unknown.

“So what do you want to do then?”

I've come to realize that this is the point where most of my passing conversations with peers are brought to an abrupt end.

“I don't know.” I say.

And there it is, out in the open, lying on the floor-- the ******* future. I search their eyes and find panic,
                                                    then doubt,
                                                                ­ followed by pity.

I have officially shared too much information.
Figures. Honesty  creeps  people  out.

We part ways with, “Oh, that's great” or “I'll see you around!” and march forward to that inevitable, tantalizing ***** that is the future.

I've found that when I express a modicum
of trust in the world,
                                            it is often met with an alarming dread
                                           and concern for my prolonged well-being.

I am without a plan, so naturally-- there's a problem.


That if I don't have my calendar
              marked up through to the second coming of Christ,
                    at some point all of my limbs may simultaneously fall off.
Or I may simply cease to exist
           and all the joys of life will slip through my fingers
                                                       as I descend into my faithless pit
                                                                ­   of poor-planning.

I'd like it if everyone could just breathe--
get your cell-phones and computers in class,
and live in this moment.

Because yesterday is today
                         and today is tomorrow,
                                      and there is no future more important than now.

Until then and philosophy aside,
I guess I'll keep careening on the edge of reality
with my thumb up my ***
because god forbid
you become anything
          like me.


                                                           ­   -r0
 Apr 2014 Oco
reflectionzero
A poet in love
Is a match soaked
In gasoline.

-r0
follow my writing!

it will kick you in the diaphragm.
 Feb 2014 Oco
Theia Gwen
1.Sight

Beauty looks like protruding bones
Photoshop, and makeup to cover tired eyes
Girls in magazines who emanate elegance
Even though the perfect girls are only a guise
That's what beauty looks like

2. Hearing

Beauty sounds like that girl you hardly know saying "*** you've lost so much weight!"
You feel happy for a split second even though you don't see it
It's standing up a little straighter when hearing someone call, "You look really great."
But the voices still say "It's not enough."
That's what beauty sounds like

3. Taste

Beauty tastes like diet coke, since it's the only thing you'll drink
Tastes like bile and the salty tears running down your cheeks
After you just puked
It tastes like binging food that you bought really cheap
That's what beauty tastes like

4. Smell

Beauty smells like febreze mixed with *****
In a pathetic attempt to hide what you just did
It smells like a million foods vying for your attention
But keeping self control even though you want to quit
That's what beauty smells like

5. Touch

Beauty feels like running your hands across your collar bone
Because it gives you the illusion you're thin
It feels like your stomach releasing an overdue groan
Because you've been eating as if there is a famine
It feels like grabbing the fat on your body while your mind complains
Beauty is feeling the knife in your back reminding you
"Beauty is pain."
 Feb 2014 Oco
Theia Gwen
My words aren't  graceful or eloquent
I've never been a good writer
And everything I want to say sounds inadequate
I can never find the right words to say
I could write volumes about you
But everything just comes out as a cliche
So I'll just listen to a love song
Because everyone's better at saying what I think
It's not unusual that you leave me tongue tied with no response
And everytime I try to string letters in a coherent  thought
I just get your name
Only your name
 Feb 2014 Oco
Theia Gwen
How dare you call yourself pro life
And then make me want to **** myself

How dare you say that you're a Christian
And then act with hatred and intolerance

How dare you tell your friends about your new diet plan
While I'm silently throwing up dinner upstairs

How dare you ignore and insult me
And then get angry at the fact that I'm withdrawn

How dare you tell me you love me
While my tears flow down my bruising cheek

How dare you destroy me on the inside
And wonder why I'm showing it on the outside

How dare you boast about my high grades
When you used to call me stupid when I was slow to learn

And how ******* dare you call yourself my mother
When you've become my worst enemy
To my dear lovely mother, who else?
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