tousled: Favorites

Feb 2015 tousled

Charles Bukowski

don't feel sorry for me.
I am a competent,
satisfied human being.

be sorry for the others
who
fidget
complain

who
constantly
rearrange their
lives
like
furniture.

juggling mates
and
attitudes

their
confusion is
constant

and it will
touch
whoever they
deal with.

beware of them:
one of their
key words is
"love."

and beware those who
only take
instructions from their
God

for they have
failed completely to live their own
lives.

don't feel sorry for me
because I am alone

for even
at the most terrible
moments
humor
is my
companion.

I am a dog walking
backwards

I am a broken
banjo

I am a telephone wire
strung up in
Toledo, Ohio

I am a man
eating a meal
this night
in the month of
September.

put your sympathy
aside.
they say
water held up
Christ:
to come
through
you better be
nearly as
lucky.

Feb 2015 tousled

Raw With Love

Feb 2015 tousled

Charles Bukowski

Raw With Love

little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
i won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
i won't blame you,
instead
i will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and i won't use it
yet.

Feb 2015 tousled

If

Feb 2015 tousled

E. E. Cummings

If

If freckles were lovely, and day was night,
And measles were nice and a lie warn’t a lie,
Life would be delight,—
But things couldn’t go right
For in such a sad plight
I wouldn’t be I.

If earth was heaven and now was hence,
And past was present, and false was true,
There might be some sense
But I’d be in suspense
For on such a pretense
You wouldn’t be you.

If fear was plucky, and globes were square,
And dirt was cleanly and tears were glee
Things would seem fair,—
Yet they’d all despair,
For if here was there
We wouldn’t be we.

Jun 2014 tousled

random thought #4

Jun 2014 tousled

elizabeth capital

random thought #4

Caution! If love hurts you are doing it wrong.

#love #humor #caution

Jun 2014 tousled

Dear colleges

Jun 2014 tousled

the existential romanticist

Dear colleges

My worth is not measured by my standardized test score number. My worth is not measured by the amount of AP classes I am taking. My worth is not measured by my GPA. My intelligence cannot be measured by how many pages of a review book I can do and get a 36 on the ACT, a 5 on the AP exam, an A in the class.

I am so much more than these numbers. I am so much more than a transcript.

Measure me by my effort by the sleepless nights for projects by determination instead.

#stress #college

Jun 2014 tousled

lust

Jun 2014 tousled

the existential romanticist

lust

**** you.

#love #lust

Dec 2013 tousled

Her Story

Dec 2013 tousled

Luminosity Cat

Her Story

Her ****** ears... They were stolen.
Her wrists... Have scars from the ropes that had bound them.
Her legs... They had been spread open from the men that were to selfish even to notice her scream.
At age 9 she accidentally made this her identity.
Her stomach... No one can see it has blood streaked across it, from the knife that took away her pain.

At age 13 her chains kept building.
The secret of what happened still weighed heavy.
The men... They had kept coming.
Not knowing what to do, she turned to **** hoping that the satisfaction would come through.
Her knife keeps producing scars that mark her skin.
This, once again, accidentally became her identity.
Scars kept coming.
She couldn't trust anybody.

At age 14 her chains still weighed heavy, but something has changed.
A person... Sees the hurt that no one else can see.
A person... that has come from a similar past.
A person... Tells her it will be okay.
A person... Tells her not to be afraid.
A person... Tells her she is loved.
A person... vowed to help her find her voice.
However, the girl couldn't believe those words of truth.
- but still.. A person kept on trying.

This is her past, what about her present?

At age 15 her wounds begin healing - the words have broken through.
She has found... A person to finally trust.
She puts down the knife.
She can finally run free.
A life she can live, free from anxiety.

Just because you think you know someone, doesn't mean you know someone. I wrote this with the hopes of communicating that you don't always know someone else's story. Everyone's eyes are blind. You will never be able to look at someone, and truly know or understand his/her story.