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...and I'll always be the one
with an empty stomach
and dry lips
and worn out tired hips.

Once a line leader--
I was trampled by my followers.
There's a password to paradise
and I've never been a very important person.
Whether I'm afraid of liars or real boys,
I'm not sure...
But they seem to walk hand-in-hand these days.
My heart is a leaky pipe dripping tears into an empty bucket. **** it.
The rain taps it's fingernails
on my window
to remind me that living things
are still growing
What's the point of sewn shut pockets?
To create an illusion
that there's always a place to
keep things safe.

They're sewn shut,
and you're not fooling anyone.

Rip the seems
and keep your possessions
safe and to yourself.

What's the point of pockets,
if they're always sewn shut?
I've learned that happiness isn't something that you pursue

It's not a goal.

It's a lifestyle.


And I've learned that happiness isn't a situational thing

It's not a special time

It just comes in the package with your personality traits.


And I've learned that I haven't found happiness

And I shouldn't go looking for happiness

And that happiness won't find me,

because I simply don't know how to be happy in the happiest of times.
It's as if I'm Poseidon
as I lay beside him.

I'm an earth-shaker,
a love maker,
heart taker,
and a staker of the ocean.

Concealed amongst a flock of lambs,
I tamed the horses
and I tamed my man.

But I am the mighty Poseidon
as I lay beside him
and drown him in my sea of deceit.
There's a city in front of you
and all you can see
is how crooked the buildings look
and their *****, rotten teeth

I see everything all around
and everything in between
and it's all stunning to me.
I'm just sneazing out
the powder from my
evenly flawless nose
and I clap my hands
together and let it
snow.
Sometimes I think about myself
and how I'm a performer
a dancer,
and what that means.

And I think about other performers
and their labels
actors and actresses
and how I'm only a dancer.

Then I think,
Who am I kidding?
I act all the time,
I'm just so good that nobody can tell

And then I think about all the other actors
and how they're really dancers
and they're dancing all the time,
They're just so good that nobody can tell.

And then I think about all of the people
and how they're all performance
And how every morning the curtain is drawn
and we're watching a concrete stage on a sidewalk.

Just some people don't realize they're performing.
Tremors are endless
and my heartstrings
play a double-dutch
symphony--
-- Smacking against the pavement.
There are little kids playing around
and I don't know what that is.
They're primal,
but we're all mammals--
touchy and savage.
Primates.
Like characters from a journey.
It's instinctual,
so I'm not really worried.
It's different than what I'm used to.
Walking through a different attic than I'm used to.
But I still have a face and fingers in this evolution.
We're all apes, but there's still a different
australopithecus from Russia or somewhere.
It's Jane, and she's just a little kid.
She moves how she moves and not how she thinks.
She's getting negativity out of her body.
I'm working like little kids
wondering what's under the table.
Regret for
slipping on cowboy boots
and sitting at your kitchen table

Regret for
allowing you to make me complete,
because it only gave you something whole to rip.
You always bring me close enough
to see the whites of my eyes
before you shoot me.
They say that practice makes perfect

Well I'm almost perfect at being alone



I do my daily exercises


Walk down the city streets

Have lunch

Sit in corners

Ride the bus

My technique is improving every minute



I take pride in my natural talent

I am a prodigy

I don't need you.
And nobody knows what the hell she's doing
because she's silent and they know that she
never has anything going on inside her head.
I like this time of night;
It feels like it's so late,
but at the same time...
the morning is a year away.
Everything always makes everything somber
because when I'm blue it taints even the brightest of stars
Things that shouldn't matter always make me madder
I wish they made me mad like the hatter
But they only make me angry like the bull
And now I'm mixing this blue with my angry red
and purple is the color I live in
I always wanted purple eyes like rain
and now my purple eyes rain out my pain
and this royal world has taken control of its reign
and it orders me to paint these dead roses red
but I'll just paint them purple with my tears instead
and the queen will order, "Off with your head"
But it won't matter to me because my purple rain will help them grow
and it won't matter to me because this isn't Wonderland
because the sky is full of thunder and
it dyes the streets with purple ink
Alice, take my hand and give me your drink
and we will shrink so small, because that's the size I feel anyway
Alice, you have less sense than I
and all the best people do
So while you eat and grow tall, I'll stay so small
because you belong to Wonderland
and I belong in this purple Melancholia
Scurry up the trees
and watch from above.

Hibernate through
frigid and somber months.

Live and die Young.
In the fall--
No. In the Autumn--
You won't need to follow me.
We're headed for the same destination.
(It's forever unknown.)
I'll see you there.
When I was young,
I used to always think
that the sky was crying when it rained

It was lonely and everybody always went inside
when it needed people the most

So when it rains,
I go outside and spend time with it
and catch raindrops on my tongue
like I'm kissing the sky.
The rainbow is the same as the unicorn
and all the other invisible feelings
in a fairy tale
This is a shout out to this season
and its amused ****** expression
as it taunts me and my need for a fix.
You ask me why,

but I never know anymore.
Slumming.
Slumming around downtown.
Slumming around downtown St. Paul.

A broke high school student.
A broke student with perpetual down time.
A broken down senior student letting go of time.

Slumming.
Slumming down to Raspberry.
Slumming down to Raspberry Island.

Walking across the Mississippi River.
The bridge had been raided.

Marching.
Marching down teal and raspberry stairs.
Icycle nose hairs.
Seeing my breath as my chest shivers.
I found my heart trapped under the solid river.

Teenagers ******* about freshmen that got the bridge raided,
Teenagers ******* about artists they've always hated
and artists ******* about things they've created.

Underagers slowly letting out smoke.
Underagers letting out what keeps their lungs beating.
Underagers slowly letting out steam, cheating.
Me.
letting out smoke that came from the ice.
Smoke of below zero temperature, freezing my insides.

Mindless.
Mindlessly walking.
Mindlessly walking through endless skyways.

Mindless.
Mindlessly talking.
Mindlessly talking about things I don't remember.
Until we've arrived at We-Be-Smokin'.

Huddling.
Huddling in a group.
Admiring the art that claimed the spot before we did.

Scuttling.
Feet scuttling.
Feet scuttling in place to outrun the cold.

Reminiscing of months before when I was sitting alone in Starbucks with my
venti white chocolate mocha listening to crazy George yell at his imaginary
wife. Not being bothered. Not being cold.
Not easily hurt,
just easy to hurt.

Not too weak
but it only takes two weeks

I'm never a keeper,
Next time you should keep her
Only real eyes
can make you realize
what lies beneath
real lies
Don't touch me.
Don't tickle my mind and relive my past.
I was yours;
let's compare and contrast
the sequel to the original mask .
It's not your task to measure what I lack.
It's your nature that tells you to attack.
It's time to release the reaper from it's leash.
No coincidences; only consequences.
I look back.

I know what I did.

I know that I'll do it again.

I know that I'm no good.
Lose one,
Break one,
It's over due/expired.

Find a replacement
for all the things
that make you
less tired.
There's a cauldron that sits in the basin of my chest
brewing up potions
whether they're poison or medicine
I never know
but I feel it boiling, bubbling slow
either result is magical
black or white
Right now it's as clear as the bubbles it makes
and they're coming out of the holes in my face
They pop in my ears
I blow them out of my mouth
they leak out of my eyes
and make puddles on the ground.
From the rap CD
to living in this trapped city,
we've created a rhapsody
that nothing less than pretty
could keep from running happily
I often think
about the angel that laid upon the tracks
knowing that in ten seconds
everything will be over.
The killers are callin' on me,
and when I realized it
there was a **** ton of screaming
by only one person.

And I used to be sick
of my new apartment
because it was an empty barrel
that made the loudest sound.

And it looks like we cracked
a second after
I crawled into my hole,
not understanding why
anyone would want me
like a big deal.

I'm not interested in a great first show
or keeping my friends close.

I'm just interested in the evils in my life.
Forever
hitting my head
on a mental ceiling and
forgetting the feeling of gentle healing;
Kneeling like a child feeling guilty of stealing.
The roses bloom every Spring,
though they look more beautiful
dressed in snow.
My rose is a sweet pale lady
taking me away from the
seasonal blueness of my history.
Kiss with a moldy tongue
See the ground with a head hung
Grow with a soul still young
Dance to the song yesterday sung
I used to be the shoe

Now I guess

it's time

for me to be

the bubble gum

on the gravel.
They're sparkling and the
drums don't lay all neat and
tidy under the melody, but
they still race along me in a
field behind you. But you
look back and they're black
to you. Hold me up. Let me
go. And my heart will race
under the sun, under me

What did you do today?
Examine the spit puddles
you made on the floor
you walk on
because they'll be gone
by morning.
I'm prone to injury
but not on purpose
I'm just clumsy and
don't pay attention

I let people in
but not on purpose
I'm just not careful and
I don't lock my doors at night.

I try to let
my blood run clean
but you have a mean tendency
to pour salt in my wound.

But I don't learn from mistakes
I just make them again
So I won't wrap it up
I'll let my wounds out at night

I'll let my blood run down my arm
and I'll hope that it can make it
down my *******
and I'll hope it will drip down
onto my leg
and I hope that it will trickle down my knee
and I'll hope that it will crawl onto the ground
without getting salty.

Maybe someday
There will be a pool of clean blood and
Maybe someday
Somebody will splash in it
Without getting salt on their shoes.
This clock smokes a cigarette
     that tucks itself into my nest of a jaw
          acting as a memento of my most cherished flaw.
I can hear Fool's Paradise calling to me;
     it's hollow promises idle above me until I fail to remember
          whether this is a wedding or a funeral releasing it's doves to me.
You're a modern desolate suicide
     with your insides filled with fearful and uneasy pesticides.

I'm too exhausted to lose it.
     and too inferior to choose it.
and the restless clock stays awake impassively with your ballad
     like a phantom of my pallid heart which feels eternally invalid.
I pace past pit stops but I never eat
     when I've lasted this long already.
You're a modern romantic suicide
     with a heart that has hung itself out to dry.

Sometimes my heartbreak brakes,
     snarling as it painstakingly falters like the moon at daybreak;
          stumbling across a canvas to its haunted nest
               and sleeping beneath these ten-thousand lakes.  
I won't let the shine blast my shade.
I won't let the darkness begin to fade.
I won't let the sparkle ride my mind.
You're so rustic and piously unkind.

Paramour, you're not abandoned yet.
You're scrutinizing yourself and you're far too unfair.
You've got your crown all tangled up
     and I wish I could make you care.

No Paramour, you haven't been abandoned yet.
It doesn't matter all you've endured.
It doesn't matter all you've observed;
     sentimental daggers still seem to lacerate your brain.
I've acquired my fair share of knives,
     I'll guide you through the pain.
You're not abandoned.

So abandon me when you're not alone.
Let's abandon me so you're not alone.
Give me your fists because you're staggering.
Let me hold you still because you're staggering.
Raise your glass
to all the Oscar winners
that know how to cry,
but keep your glasses under the table
for all the criers that know how to act
My shoulder blade is slicing into his chest
but I don't mind,
because his skin is against mine
and I'm stabbing him at the same time.
Remembering that water's in the clouds,
I'm suddenly drenched in their tears.
My head is always in the clouds
sleeping and drowning in all of my drenched fears.

I yearn for my insides to stop embarrassing me eternally
because feelings are so out of season,
and not in the vintage retro cool kind of way.

Everything I compose is a duet
but my shadow, though it can emulate me,
can't embrace me like you can.
My shadow and I can't surrender into each other
like my late partner.

Who am I going to wander with in the frigid rain?
and who am I going to share this hideaway with
that's nested in my frigid brain?

I keep guiding these invisible spectacles in my head
like a ghostly shepherd,
and perform them for my imaginary phantom inamorata
igniting and burning my ethereal phoenix bird.

and so I'll linger here helpless and conquered
longing for someone to hearken my silent
high pitched banshee shriek,
which continues to remain unheard.

Feel like a raindrop in an ocean,
just a teardrop in a dragon's eye.
Just an ant in a sand hill
scurrying from gargantuan shoes and haunting lies

And so I'll hideaway and bide my time
until it's gone and I evaporate
because these great expectations
will forever be far too great.

This is familiar ground I stand on.
This is familiar ground I fall to my knees on.
This is familiar ground I sleep upon.
This is familiar ground I'm buried beneath.

So I'm waiting for someone to say something.
I'm waiting for someone to stop asking me,
"Are you okay, miss?"
as if it makes a difference.

You've fooled me once, you've fooled me twice
you've fooled me thrice
you've fooled me everlastingly.
I'm a dazed and gullible fool.
You're the jester; I just wish the joke was on you.

Forever only a lady
and never anyone's rose to tame.
I long to be the rose just this once, maybe.
Please. Tame me.

So I stuff the holes in my chest with neon lights
and curled up currency and healthy pours
as my viscera seeps out my unhealthy pores
making muddled puddles on these many ***** floors.

and your attention lacerates me like a disembowelment
but my it's my affection that  is the Hari-Kari
while your schizophrenic agenda is the knife.
Together we're a daily ritual suicide.

I never knew we were born to die
because I've been forever blind.
Thought you could be my lucky cricket
until my heart ended up dead on the roadside.

So sing my neglected soul to sleep.
May it rest peacefully in pieces
while my severed heart wanders aimlessly.
You can fill your case
with arguments and validity,
and get your knees *****
as you cry a maudlin plea

but in the end
none of that matters
because nobody has a heart
unless they're compensated for it.
Inspired by a ******
If you are of something
you're there.
I can't even remember
the best things he said
anymore
A sunflower grows
"tall and simple".
And so does a cancer
small and simple.
Holes grow larger
around me.
A field of sunflowers
and headstones.
The power of recovery and discovery;
the kick of a pen
during unconscious behavior.
Chatty beats taking control
of the morgue.
Not letting the rivers in--
only the shivers.
Chatty beats taking the liver,
putting it in a living corpse.
Chatty beats opening the door in the clouds.
That's but a bedtime story that's
read to the youth and
told as the truth.
Hypnotize so I can't criticize,
stick my face in the water
and show me the baby otters I loved
from my childhood bedtime stories.
The glories of floating
on my back into a
brand new habitat
filled with sunflowers
"tall and simple"
and holes growing larger
to keep me warm and breathing
under the water.
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