Those few shy sun rays
That fill the saddest valleys
With the grace of their warmness
Are not aware of the joy they bring when
They steal their way in from the 70's clouds
White, grey and dark as the night
Choked by the rage of the stormy skies
Putting up with our accusing eyes
Blaming them for this furious weather
Not knowing that they're under the pain and pressure
Of the scrunchy lightening tearing them up like a whip
Few of them survive while others slip
Between the hands of the mad forces pushing them to cry
Yes, they boil with the urge to pry
As raindrops ,as cold as the heavens' heart,
With the demons pressing "restart",
Soak us with the filthy rain
Of this silly, slavering game
Every round that a devil gains

today, on valentine's day
i'm glad i'm back home
because otherwise
i'd probably run into you
in the hallway
or as i'm walking out the door
and you'd pretend you don't notice me
as you lately always do
that
or i'd just be alone in my room
lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling
thinking about how we both live in the same building
and both want each other
but nothing's going to happen.
it's utterly pathetic
and seems to be a common trend for my love life in college
so far.
i'm just ******* because i know this is cliche
but we are so compatible
and i think your hair and laugh and scrunchy smile are adorable
(and those dumb red high tops you always wear that oddly attract me to you more)
and i'm annoyed
that you threw it all away because of your nerves
and honestly who the hell knows
what is it about me that always scares people away?
just one of many questions i am left to ponder
alone in my bed.

I remember the first time I met you, you were thirteen I think
In a swimming pool, talking French, mucking around
I couldn't understand a word, but even then I found you fascinating
7 years later I had to move near where you live.
got to know you
got to like you
You gave me stupid presents
things like twigs and elastic bands
you'd steal my scrunchy, because you know how much it annoys me

now we're 19 and 21
you discreetly tickle my leg under the table
trying to make me laugh
but it takes a while now
I turn and just stare into your eyes
and you stare back
it makes me happy when you do that
I feel like it's only us
I could see the joy in your eyes, in your smile when you looked at me,
when I would finally crack,
laughing because **** you boy you've found the exact spot,
I know where to tickle you back though
Revenge is so sweet,
I watch the shiver go down your spine,
watch as you try to keep your face in line

I loved getting tipsy with you, us, our families
I see the looks exchanged between our families,
I think they've realised before us what's happening
I think I'd be happy if my life carried on like this

you've always made me smile.

Rusted ringlets hang
Precariously pouring out
Of a metallic scrunchy.
I can’t keep myself
From glancing intermittently
At the slight glisten
Of a cocktail
On her cupid’s bow,

Then, a few inches below,
Her taut neck,
A small piece of cloth grasping
Its sculpted edges
Begging the question
How it would feel
To cup her face
With fingers embellished
By cheap and chipping paint?

Would she settle there,
A placid pool of profundity?
Or would she seep between
The cracks of my fingers
Unable to be contained
By such a simple stranger?

She adorned the corner
Of the couch
With such grace.
It was breathtaking,
As she spoke in rhythms
Lining the crests of her intonation,
Hazel flashes kept tempo,
A conversation shifting in tandem.
Poetry in motion.

I hate how you used to talk when I was watching TV.
I hate the way you’d laugh when you thought something was funny.
I hate how you’d pretend to laugh at my jokes, even though I could tell the difference.
I hate how you’d use up all the hot water and left me to take cold showers.
I hate how you’d never let me go out with my friends.
I hate that you used my toothbrush.
I hate that stupid dog you got.
I hate the way you drove.
I hate how you’d always complain about how hard your day was. I work too.
I hate how you walked on my carpet with your shoes on.
I hate how you’d always interrupt me when I was talking.
I hate your parents.
I hate that scrunchy look your eyes got when you smiled.
I hate the way you left me alone.
I hate how you’re happy and don’t even think of me.

But mostly, I hate the fact that I could never hate you at all.

When we're tired we sleep
And when we sleep we dream
And lately i keep seeing this dog
Can someone tell me what it means?
He's a little Akita hound
Pointed ears and scrunchy nose
I named him Tanuki
Because he looks like an undersized fox
With no weasels to hold
He's little, tiny and loyal
But only exsists in my head
He loves snuggling by me, apparently
He's loves nodding his head

So why do i keep seeing this adorable dog
As i hover over the cliff of sleep?
So can someone please tell me,
What do my dreams mean?

The back of a pearl earring, a maroon scrunchy a bowl. Filled with jewelry silver necklaces twisted tangled. BIRDS OF A FEATHER blue nail polish. Crinkled bed spread white curtains ball point pen, scattered push pins. Black boots in the corner, one laced one undone. Half of a lit cigarette ashed on the window sill an imprint on the mattress, purple index cards splayed over a white desk its paint chipped. Glass mason jar filled with coins a barrette collecting dust underneath the bed. A guitar missing two strings a grey green flannel. Grey rug. Ray bands a phone charger a porcelain bowl, prescription bottle. Tie died lighter bear with a missing eye and bowtie. The dog chewed it off.

She was four and I was six.
We held hands and ate pixie stix.
The big head little girl whom followed me around the corner. 
Soon we became friends.

 

We held hands with skin like bricks.
I cleansed her hands inside mine.
The words we didn't know how to pronounce until we were older.
The house across the street covered in thick brick.
Our parents always pictured us together.

 

I cleansed her hands inside of mine. 
The big head little girl across the street.
Her hair in a tight colorful scrunchy. Hair spread all over her head.
We both had to be in before the street lights came on.
Head full of dirt.faces darker than they were before we met each other outside.



Our clothes covered in dirt and grime.
Our fingers filled with splinters.
The chime of laughs and smiles.
The big headed girl whom loved pink and purple pixie stix whom followed me around until the street lights came on.
She always gave me the blue ones and called me her friend.



I remember the time I never wanted you to follow me around.
Often threatening to feed you to my dog.
Pushing you off the swing.
Stealing your turn sliding down the slide.
You never let me go anywhere alone.



Here I am, now older. Picturing the big headed messy hair girl whom always followed me around.
Truthfully I never minded.
Even now, ringing your doorbell in thought

And as we walked down the road bathed in moonlight; with our hands intertwined. Filling the streets with our laughter and joy, I felt something completely new. I felt my heart beating for the first time in a long time. Like lava slowly filling the insides of my chest, i felt warmth. Not from the clothes that were covering my back, but from the love I could see all over your beautiful face; from your sparkling eyes, to your scrunchy nose, down to your rosy lips. And at that moment, all i knew was that this girl in front of me made me the happiest man alive.

I am a born-again believer in me, in we, in us
I trust you and I will fly so high we forget the meaning of the word stand
Hand-in-hand we will be above both land and sea and our floor will be more air than comparisons of trees laid down
Hey— I know you, I’ve seen you before
Not in trouble, no no but still in my corner
The girl you were, should I warn her?
That we are about to fall irrevocably, recklessly in love
I’ve been in jams before but never in something so sweet it makes me wonder what makes you
Stick with me, it sounds like a pup explaining his carry-on before boarding but if you’d just be mine and dine on promises and wine with cutlery so fine you feel you ought to rub away your fingerprints before they notice who you are
You are the light that makes the day go ‘round and shove itself into the ocean each night, embarrassed to be outshone
Out here there’s nothing to rub away
Your fingerprints burn searing brands on my soul and you make me whole
I’ve got holes in me like the lid on a pepper-shaker, the flakes keep dropping out, but you close them up and I can’t help but think of my suture with you, the future is ours, sew
Onward to new horizons
You and I will rewrite the stars
What, like it’s hard?
The fabric of spacetime is just that, sew
Bunch here and there and make a scrunchy outta time
Bring it back and take back the now
Blend fashion and function into one and oh what fun we’ll have being old and new all at once and together
We weather the storm because there’s no Halle for this Berry and no bunny’s coming close to this Bug
It’s you and me over land and sea
Like those pocket monsters, I choose you
I believe in true
Love is here to stay, okay?
Take my hand and sail with me
Fly with me
Above land and sea

(a disastrous morning Sonnet)

I am the very model of a girl who’s late for morning meal,
my charger failed, the printer jammed, the morning’s start has been surreal
I lost a scrunchy and a shoe, I had to use some dry shampoo
my Keurig had no k-cups too, I’m feeling like a total shrew!

Our pre-dawn jog went really well, but now the morning's gone to hell
I couldn’t find clean underwear, I’m desperate to charge my cell,
I got some soap in my left eye, I stubbed my toe and nearly cried
While brushing teeth and hair in haste, I wonder why I even try.

Anna’s got an attitude, she’s not someone who’s normally rude
her hookup so ‘experimental’ has an irregular sleep-in schedule
how’s she going to get to class if she’s babysitting sleeping-lass
I guess I’m not the only one, who’s schedules simply come undone.

I woke her with a gentle voice and soothed her out—we had no choice
My morning happened to sideways go—but it fueled this grandiloquent tale of woe!
.
.
A song for this:
Something Stupid by Michael Bublé and Reese Witherspoon

Smiles are nice. Sometimes smiles are made from big beautiful strong happy cheeks. Sometimes they seem to burst out like popping corks. And sometimes they're just warm and quiet and all fuzzy like inside your chest. Smiles have teeth lots, but lots not too. They can be scrunchy noses sometimes or bitey lips. Some smiles run all the way up your back and tickle your neck before they land. Smiles can all of a sudden be a jumping whole body excite. Eyes have the nicest smiles, I think.
Here's wishing you some smiles, just because they're nice to have.

at the bottom
of the *******

Jack box. After wading
through rocks of sugar-
coated clumpy munchies

you end up with a scrunchy
that snaps as you
have it hold your pony.  Not

real, a phony covered in
thin paper. Thin as a wafer. If
you savored the edible trip

you could have lapped
the journey of cardboard
that pulled all the chords of

your red velvet harp. But no! You’ve
a tummy-ache and a rubber snake
for your woes!