A blur of sparklers at night during the summer and getting burned every time.
2. The blue and pink colors of the Texas sky that looks like a ****** painting
3. The almost unbearable warmth that made you want to sleep in the fridge
4. My stepdad would ask me what I wanted for dinner because mom wasn't home and neither of us knew where she was
5. I remember being horrified of the doctors and my stepdad blowing up gloves and drawing faces on them.
6. That everyone that it was weird I liked my marshmallows for smores almost chard
7. I thought my fashion sense was amazing, with my Hannah Montana shirt and glitter perfume.

I want to know what your hair looks like in the morning, see it’s natural state of being.
see it for what it usually is, minus the blondes and blues I want to see what’s truly you.
rustled from the bed sheets, twisted in a million different directions, lose strands framing your face.

I’m curious to what your hair is like in the morning.
what it looks like in its comfort, un-staged and not dolled up to perfection.
I want to see how it falls freely, it’s assigned color shining proudly after being dipped in dyes,
curled and straightened and braided and parted.

I want to see it done by the night, styled by the pillows and the position in which you slept.
I want to see how rest and peace paint you in all your morning glory.

A Long Day In Hell!


It will be a   L  O  N  G   day in Hell !
Before I get to my feet, to go toe to toe with The Devil.
A   L  O  N  G   day in Hell !
Before I ever allow myself, to do The Truffle Shuffle.


It will be a   L  O  N  G   day in Hell !
Before the clothes you are wearing, ever become fashionable.
A   L  O  N  G   day in Hell !
Before I ever feel comfortable,
With Her I’m just feel agreeable.


It will be a   L  O  N  G   day in Hell !
Before your sentence is served
And you shall get what you deserve.
A   L  O  N  G   day in Hell!
It will be a   L  O  N  G   day in H   E   L   L !!!!


It will be a   L  O  N  G   day in Hell !
Before someone like me could ever look adorable.


A   L   O   N   G   day in Hell !
Before a publisher takes notice and changes the world for…
Me.


(C)2013 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.

Purge mode! Purge mode!
Everything must go!

I haven’t worn these pants in at least twelve months.
Purge!

This was my go to cute top in ‘07, but it shrunk.
Purge!

These shoes are embarrassingly loud, they go “THWUMP, THWUMP, THWUMP.”
Purge!

Once, in this dress, someone mistakenly thought I was knocked up.
Purge!

Cool expensive hat from Anthropologie I’ve worn not a once?
Oh wait, maybe keep that one.
Nah, just kidding, PUUUUUUUURGE!

...just simply crazy:  me.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMIV)


Be modern art.  Don't merely wear a sense
Of twisted souls in anguish, that detail
Seen only on the runway to avail
Is't buyers of the tortured folk which thence
Are writhing whilst they trot amongst us? whence
Designers new upon the scene cull frail
Half notions of it in their wildness' scale
Of "clothing," music pumping out that hence.
Thus Yamamoto's girls looked pained in tour;
Ike Seungik Lee's um, clowns which played all through
Their catwalk, to effect.  Chanel as twere
Conserv'tive was't?  I can't see how but to
Be stylish is pure madness, though tis poor
To call it that.  Just laugh at me, won't you?

10Mar18c

...as Mum taught me.



(sonnet #MMMMMMCMIX)


Did sparrows gaily call as wont, t'avail
Espresso with Dad's lecture of a sense
Long since forgotten, just where blue skies fence
Is't Sunday morning's placid airs as frail
White clouds lent April's winking eye a pale
Note of grey yonder, what? for aught intents?
How Janry owns the jest was poor as hence
These naked wastes look dead, likeas to scale.
O yes, they market florals ere March tour,
Cuz stylish girls must be the first to do
Um, April Fools a proper notice.  We're
All shivring in wool rollnecks now, but you
Just want mair golden hours to cull what'd stir
That keener sense Spring shall anon debut.

28Jan18a

whenever i go online shopping,
no matter if it's
high end, low end, or in between,
i would always sort the items
from low to high.
not only because it's a safe way to shop
and that it makes me look like
i take budgeting seriously,
but that's the only thing i can afford.

talk about me,
a high middle class kid that tries
DESPERATELY
to not spend so much on
the things he wants
rather than the things he needs
while still unemployed
and in college
as well as getting many allowances from his parents.
you are COMPLETELY allowed to say
that i am spoiled,
i understand and am aware of that.

as i scroll down and observe
the price tags slowly rising up,
$10, $15, $29.99, $49.99, $79.99,
until it hits $3,000,
i not only thought,
"how do you think that
it was a good idea to make that
simple, plain jacket
in such a high price?"
but i also had to admit that
i really did wanted that jacket
since i thought it looked cute.

the problem with that is:
most of the stuff i wish i have
in my wardrobe,
they would all usually be so expensive,
especially since most of the stuff
i want to have is from
high end streetwear brands.

i would see almost every celebrity
wear my future wardrobe,
all looking so confident,
trendy,
iconic,
stylish.

oh, how i wish to be like them, sometimes.
how i wish to be rich.
how i wish to not worry about saving money.
how i wish to just show off iconic outfits
from amazing high end brands.
how i wish to have what i always wanted.

i know i should be content
with what i have.
i mean there always will be
other solutions to wear something
inspired by designer clothes
i've dreamed to have.

but ****, would i look good in that
$3,000 jacket.

You’re so exotic.
He’d stare into my almond eyes,
one lighter than the other
fingers following the tangled waves
that ran down my shoulder blades.

What was exotic?
My father, blue eyed brute,
born into the Los Angeles slums
when the city lights were still
filled by browning fields.

My mother, unbleached hazel,
proud to say she’s been
an American longer,
than ever a refugee.

You should dye it black.
The tangled waves,
hues of coffee and amber
were never good enough.

You should dress more like them.
I’m sorry,
the pink and blue sampot hol
with silk ruffles and mandarin flowers
don’t match my ***** sneakers,
and for the hundredth time,
it’s not a kimono.
No, I don’t know anyone
who works at that massage parlor
with the women in six inch heels
parading around the golden dragon
out in front.

No, my father didn’t rescue
my mother from the nail salon
and what makes you think
I would know anything about
mail order brides.

Television has taught you
that I should be exotic
and neurotic.
Ready to submit
at the snap of your fingers.

Ready to present,
with a geisha’s poise.
You really expect me to respond?