Yesternight, I drank much ***.
Suffice to say, it was much fun.
But today I pay the awful price,
Of a dented wallet, and swollen eyes.

It's funny, no one knows about that one day I went to the Guidance office
And I cried for an hour
I was sitting in a corner
On the floor
There were black linoleum tiles
Coated with a fine pelt of dust bunnies.

I tried breathing in the problems people came to discuss in anguish and the tears and despair of my predecessors
To fill that empty space in the back of my throat
That you get when you cry for too long and your face is stiff with tears and your eyes sting, because  you've been holding a staring contest with reality, and you lost, but after you caved, and blinked, the sting still lingered.

The space at the back of my throat stayed empty and it stayed that way all day.
When I went back to class and my eyes were rimmed red and occasionally my breaths would come in short gasps like a marathon runner- I guess I was running a marathon- although one of a different sort,
And nobody noticed I had been crying because on the day I chose to break down another wave of bad news hit the school and so I was overshadowed so they all had trembling jaws and glistening eyes as well and,

I still can't decide whether or not I wanted someone to notice that I had been crying.

I find that you and me are exponentially and utterly compatible.

Kindergarden, best friends since then, isn't it funny how things work out?

Who would have known, there is red and there is blue, together making your favorite color.

New humans come, and they may go, you still are one of my favorites.

Reckless and stupid

Funny and loud

very
very
immature
I'd like you thank you, I'm very much glad that I found you...
Lets dance until dawn, we can pretend there's an audience below the stage
You know too much, you laugh to loud, and I love every minute of it
Now lets go make some enemies and roll around laughing on the ground
So thank you, thank you, for every bit.

I'll give you my thoughts for a penny.

Only a penny, because they're certainly not worth a nickel, five cents for the five fingers I'll frequently run along my collarbones, imagining myself imagining the moment when you did the same, all that's left now is the ghost of your fingers, negative space.

Not worth a dime. A dime I'll use to buy a caramel that'll glue my teeth together and trap the words I know I'll regret later on.

The sweetness of my unsaid words will linger for hours.

Not worth a quarter, 25, enough for all my fingers and toes, and one more for the hand that seems to linger around my throat, incarcerating monologues I can't seem to make anyone understand.

Certainly not worth a dollar, a dollar I'd use to buy sour patch kids, partly because I know they're your favorite, (you can appreciate the way they'll sting your tongue after a while, and the oxymoron living in the sour sugar that coats them), and partly because I sure am sour, and after all, I'm only a kid.

So the song sings
that we are all innocent,
but I don't think
that's true,
of course
maybe nothing is true,
but I think
that we are all
almost not guilty
by reason of insanity,
the insanity
that goes with being
human,
so I seem to know
that I am almost not guilty
because I know
that since I have a book
of all the sins and crimes
of all the people
who I have perceived
to have hurt me,
that everybody else
has a book
on me,
and I seem to know
that they are probably right
about me,
being an *******
in the past,
just like I think
that so many
in my life
were *******
to me,
so we're almost not guilty
by reason of insanity,
so I'll give us
a suspended sentence.

I used to do
a little bit
of drugs,
and even though
they didn't wreck me
too bad,
I gave them up,
but I like
to get high,
so I have invented
the imaginary drug experience,
and what you do
is to say the name
of the drug, inside,
as you breathe out,
and then,
holding your nostrils open,
you forcefully inhale, fast,
in other words,
snort,
the air,
and my notion is
that the body/mind
will understand
that you want this drug
and it will produce
an endorphine,
(brain chemical),
which is like a mild form
of that drug,
and then,
you get a little bit high,
but it's awfully subtle,
so you have to be aware,
and there
you have it,
safe dope,
and you can't
get busted.

Part I
Meadows of flowers,
Fields full of golden-brown wheat,
Through the countryside.

Poppies, marigolds,
Daisies and honeysuckles,
Very soft and sweet.

Breezes stirring grass,
Softly they caress my face,
With their gentle hands.

In the cool-sweet day,
I sit until the sun sets,
Until the day ends.

*~Marian~

I'm not writing to you,
I'm not writing to anyone at all.
I'm writing because my heart aches
because the words,
each LETTER,
appearing on the screen places me one step closer
to getting absolutely
nowhere.