it's 3am
Well, 3:08 to be exact

Congratulations Tina, you've made it...
You've seen the time on that laptop of yours,
You've contemplated the thought of sleep but then dismissed it because you know you'd never get up in the morning if you went to sleep then.
You've listened to every Weezer song know to man
You've stared up at the ceiling for a good 10 minutes without thinking about anything except how hot the bottom of the laptop was on your legs
You've checked all of the social media sites while thinking about how you were wasting your life.
You got up and walked around your room because you were scared you were becoming one with the weird furry green chair you love so much.

Two hours goes by in a flash and Mua's just now getting up for work
She walks in, tells you that she's kicking your father out for harboring yet another one of his presumably ****** friends, then walks out, leaving you not very surprised at her decision that she'll forget about in an hour.
That's your cue to get up and start your day that never really started.
You've now walked out of your room an taken a look in the bathroom mirror, staring at yourself then giving yourself the finger as you stumble into the kitchen
Tea time! You love that morning cup of tea, you can tell by the huge frown on your face.
The door is cracked open, and so is your life, so now you've taken a step outside and you realize that the sky is a different shade of purple then it was earlier that afternoon, and that made you smile... in the first time in several hours... you smile.
now you're leaning on the 3rd floor railing drinking your green tea with a familiar tune ringing in your head "my momma wouldn't say you were a nice guy but you're under forty and you have a job.." over and over and over again but you don't mind it at all because it's accompanied by that cold breeze that you've longed for all night.
Now you've walked back inside because your neighbor saw you pouring the last bit of tea you had in your cup over the railing.

Now it's 6:30 and your back in the little fuzzy green chair...
** it.

TINA
The innocent pouty lip
The feminine grin
The Elvis lyrics
The yearner of scandal

KAY
The cynical, annoyed mope
The rock and roll
The sharp black nails
The pursuer of scandal

GRANT
The friend of mother nature
The need for peace and love
The flowy relaxed soul
The denier of scandal

and you wonder why I have a war in my mind.

My passions
My spirit and
My blank stares into heaven
Tell you that I am...
TINA KAY GRANT - The Vintage Rebel.

He calls me his hepcat
He likes to feel the way my hair curls near my scalp
And gets straighter at the ends.
As he runs his strong fingers down my head,
He massages my thoughts until love fills my brain.

He says I'm a babe
He likes to sneak his hand around my body
and place it on my stomach so he can feel me breath
Up and down
Softer then an angel's touch.

He whispers I love you
He never says it to loud
He says words as meaningful as those should never be said to loud and
abruptly, only to wake the sleeping monsters that rest in his head.

He watches me write
He watches my process
And with his eyes on my soul, I've never written a bad poem.

I can't get enough
Of his muscular arms
His beautiful face
And his pretty song.

I love it when he brings me to his shows
He takes me down to the local dive-bars in his red Chevy Nova
Oh how I love his red Chevy Nova, it makes me feel like the bad girl, that I've always wanted to be.

He was born bad, tough, and strong
With his hair slicked back, and his leather jacket that his father gave him
He looks like something straight out the 50s. and I love it.
But in bed with me, we are one with the galaxies, holding nothing but love
and each other.

I have melancholy in me
I call it creativity
I call it thinking
I call it uniqueness

My childhood isn't to blame for the general sadness within
Nothing is to blame
That's just who I am
Sad

Don't feel sad that I'm sad, because sad is just me
It's filled my body, and I like it there
It'd be more sad if I were happy all the time, because happiness is always temporary.

I'm content with my sadness because I know that it's me.
And I'm content with me
Don't tell me to write happy because I never have and never will
Even if the poem has happy words
Just know the person writing is nice n' sad, smiling away the happiness

When you ask me what's wrong, because I'm looking down
and I say nothing is wrong
it's true, nothing is wrong
because sadness is my truth
and it's impossible for truth to be wrong.

It's hilarious
Just think about our past...
the disadvantageous arguments
Arguments about things that we would soon know
It taught us about the future

We were disconnected, probably still are
Just because of closed hearts and minds...
And I'm not afraid to say, a little jealousy on my part...
We were young and thought we knew everything about each other.
We were disconnected, yet deep down in our unknowingly vast souls, we were the same.
I was thinking about those fights we used to have...
I reminisced about the day after your tenth birthday, when we were walking to school and you felt older, much like you do know, you felt proud to be older, I remembered that I was jealous and insisting that you were being mean. I remember your face when I said these things, and I felt guilty, you have one of those enforcing faces that told me that I was wrong.

I remember that one day we were fighting one morning at the bus stop, as we always did. After school, you fought Benny, remember him? We hadn't made amends yet, but I knew that you needed my support, and frankly, I needed yours... so I cried because I felt helpless but you stared trustingly straight into my soul, creepily I might add, and you told me to kick that **** in the face... but I trusted your judgment because you're my older brother and I love you! to this day I don't know if I actually kicked him, but I do remember that we ran home and we were as close as we'd ever been.

I remember those times, and I can't help but laugh, and smile, and cry.
I feel like lately our relationship has been kind of forced because we HAD to get along... but I feel like, if we talk more, like we used to... we could get our groove back. :)

I know this isn't a very rhythmic poem... but
HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I love you Ethan!