(no subject)

I remember there being some kind of scare of our country being bombed or something equally terrible that year
But I was ignorant, I was a child
I was too scared to try and figure out what was really going on

And so I walked home every afternoon in the brilliant sunshine swinging my arms and kicking gravel, jumping in puddles and leaves
Home to watch Jem and the Holograms and call my mama at work to tell her of Hatchet
and of slamming my face into piles of snow on the swings and friendship bracelets
Monkey bars and the piles of books I brought home from the library every afternoon
And the boys I had gotten in trouble for kicking

I wrapped my giant pink blanket around my shoulders and curled up like a cat at my father’s feet
I did summersaults on my parents bed, ate lemons picked from trees in the yard,
picked jasmine blossoms and wrinkled my nose at caterpillars,
at their bristley softness on the palms of my hands
Had brownout power outage adventures where we were left in the dark to warm water on the gas stove and to clean my scrapes from bicycle mishaps in the bathtub full of cold water
and to sit with candles telling ghost stories



And I closed my eyes to the outside world where we had over the past few years of my life been taught to hide under desks at school in case of an earthquake
Taught about hurricane warnings, learning evacuation routes and being told to stay against walls far from glass that could blow wide open around you
The Persian Gulf war, Desert Storm, nuclear weapons I was just sure were aimed right at my home, my family, if I thought about it enough

Sometimes I had dreams of fire trucks aflame, no one to put out the fire because the hoses had melted
Often dreams of werewolves (still dreams of werewolves)
Fighting colored circles where the large black one was always victorious
over the smaller ones in flesh tones and ocean blues and wine reds
Even more, at this time as a child, radiation and melting skin and families dead in the streets



But I fought my nightmares and grew up barefoot and in awe
Of the moon and the contours of faces
and of being carried inside by my father at the end of long drives home

I made myself strong with knowledge and the acceptance of death and destruction
Balancing it with the equal acceptance of the ability to feel the beauty that existed
in all things around me
Learned the difference between the two and how to fight hard for the things I wanted

to keep my eyes on the sunrise that had once, and would again,
be blotted out with the smoke of housefires and war fires,
but that today was untainted and clear and aglow with holy light

Kept my eyes on the silhouettes of palm trees leaning in the direction
the sometimes hostile tropic winds rocked them
and sometimes tore them hard from their roots, washed them away
but that today seemed to lean as if bowing in reverence to the earth and sky,
bowing in recognition of my reverence to them

i kept these eyes on the faces of men who were sometimes capable of great horrors,
of murder and terror and the desecration of brothers and land and simplicity
men who hurt children and cursed beauty, who walked away and never came back
who were small and vile and needed to hurt something to feel anything at all

but men that sometimes shone with a love big enough to right every wrong that any other thing or man had created or destroyed before him
faces that looked at loved ones with such wonder and care that you could swear they were angels,
even when you didn’t believe in angels



and sometimes people love when they have no reason to love,
when life is hell and they have been broken so many times they really shouldn’t be able
to put themselves back together again
but they are strong
and brave
and fierce
and they do
and this what I choose to see in their faces instead
this is what i choose to see in life instead



and i still sometimes have nightmares
but now i just allow them to be a reminder that,
as someone wise once said,
waking is better then sleeping
  • Current Music
    mum

Object Prompt for my Creative Writing Assignment

This couch has seen better days. In fact, its better days were seen in the cloudy, spider-infested showroom of the flea market it last remembers being in. It’s rugged corduroy exterior bled out faintly and softly in Dan’s living room, barely noticeable as it slumped against the punched in wall.

Elizabeth and Adam hooked up on this couch. Their drunk, sloppy kisses found themselves missing each other’s mouths more and more often as they drank, showering the ignored material with affection and lust. It’s belly swelled and sank with the rhythm their bodies made, rocking like a speedboat against it’s squishy back. His greedy moans echoed off of the couch, it’s fabric doing nothing but providing a medium for him to express his admiration for her body, her mouth, and her movements. The couch felt a little sad and a little perverse, lying still like the dead while horny people nearing their 20’s engaged in clumsy foreplay on it’s cushions. The perversion spread to loneliness as they made their way onto the floor, Elizabeth pushing Adam into the footrest. The couch watched through lonely eyes, seeing into their lives days in advance. Elizabeth wouldn’t remember his name in the morning, he would go home and sleep with another couple girls over the course of a month and they wouldn’t ever talk again. It was sad to know, but this couch had seen this a million times before. The couples, or the single people looking for one night of companionship- they fucked on this couch and they never came back here.

Elizabeth kneeled between his legs and he eventually came, adding to the beer-soaked and cigarette ash bath the couch waded in.

Elizabeth didn’t say goodbye to him the next morning before she left. She had nothing to say him, she didn’t even know if she could manage to look him in the eye without feeling like a slut. She gathered her purse, her shoes, buttoned up her jeans and walked out the door- and the couch never saw her again.

Five Hours Ago.

Last night at this time,
I was on top of you.
Our jeans pressed together, your hands up the back of my shirt,
leaving cat scratches on my shoulder blades.
You press your back against the couch
and we kiss like we need each other.
I ask where we’re going
and you say “I don’t care.”

We met five hours ago.
I can’t even remember what you look like,
but it doesn’t matter.
It’s not like we’re taking time out to tell each other how beautiful we are.
Or how funny, or how much we want to get to know each other.
All I can remember is this moment, the sound of your breath in my ear,
Your ‘oh my God’ moans that I try to pull from you like daisies,
the ones that make me feel worth something.
I’m sucking on your neck and your collarbone
and I wouldn’t be surprised if your drew blood
on my back.

Five hours ago, I realized I didn’t love anyone.
Ben had been molded in my vision to fit into a strange box
that neither of us were happy with.
I realized that I felt nothing
for anyone.
So I kept drinking out of the cliche red cups
and I kept smoking, burning my fingers on my own ashes.
And I ended up here, with you, after everyone had passed out
their hearts heavy and healthy with love,
mine empty and floating around in an empty belly of beer and cigarettes,
taking out my disappoint and need for appreciation
on your mouth, your lips, your tongue, your neck.

I feel nothing.
Your body grinding against mine in waves
is bringing out the
nothing
in me.

The next morning, I wake up next to you
and untangle our hands.
You’re out like the dead
and don’t miss me at all.
I slip on my shoes
And leave.
No words, no questions.
Nothing.

You mean absolutely nothing.
  • Current Music
    Lover I Don't Have to Love: Bettie Seveert (how appropriate, i know)

nick

i've known of him for about a year now, but i've never met him. we only know each other through a friend. and it's too bad we've never met. i would love to know the sound of his voice.

i saw him at the nickle creek concert, wearing the brown hoodie he is wearing in all of his pictures. i knew it was him the moment i saw him, but i don't know if he recognized me. he gave me a dirty look nonetheless. i probably gave him one, too. that's one reason i think him and i would be great together- we're the same, in that way. we have the same defense mechanisms. we alienate people before we can get hurt. only he's more honest. he admits he has never known love, he admits his attempt at relationships has been weak, and have failed. and that's where we differ.

he is tiny. under 5'4, about 110 pounds. intelligent. financially well off. him and i could do a lot for each-other. we could be each-other's real firsts. we could fall in in love and mean it, and not be embarrassed about how inexperienced we are in every aspect of the word. but we don't talk, except for through one of our friends who neither of us trust. but that doesn't say much. there isn't really anyone i can trust. i bet nick and i could trust each other. unfortunately, neither of us will ever break the ice. my ice is too frozen over to simple crack, and if he's anything like me, he will never warm up.

(no subject)

myspace is a network of whores.  if you want a meet market then yey, but if you want a blog, LJ is where it is at.

Now, i have a daily writing community.  it is called  multigenre

regular prompts to stimulate writing.  we are pretty good about updating regularly and such. 

maybe you will like it-
eye

ugh

I hate going through this again, I hate it I hate it I hate it. Why don't I remember why dont i fucking remember cause this is what happens to crazy people people who get put away because theyre crazy and I swear I am not crazy. Did i act crazy
happy thoughts
Donny Jepp. right? Donny Jepp dancing with a dog, butt tag, the fourty year old virgin, the little mermaid,
i didnt i didnt i didnt i didnt
crap
this has gone too far im done
vinyl

something

All the broken furniture, pictures on the walls tilted and smashed.
You had to squint your eyes tight to see the love.
Souls were stepped on and crushed a long time ago.
Crying was no longer an option, the tears all dried up.
crazy shy guy

(no subject)

a thousand dead poets couldnt describe the way you make feel in any second
i want to scream out like im in a slasher because you ripped out my heart
i want to be near you becasue you make me smile
its a love hate relationship like no other
and i wouldnt have it any other way

when you look at me i melt away like a ice cream left out too long
when you talk about someone else i want to tear out your throat

but dont let me get in the way of your hopes and dreams because i want to go along for the ride
rather than be trampled your caravan
i only want to see the best for you in every way even if it means that i got passed along the way

i write constantly trying to understand
trying to figure out what to do
and it only gets harder still
our conversations may be a bit short and full of useless nothingness
but the wind was knocked out of me everytime i go to say anything
hat, sox, ketchup

living above reproach..

Living above reproach, Living between the lines set firm
do i follow a set pattern? is there a stencil for my life?
id like to think that i draw my life without a stencil
coloring outside the lines is just part of it all.
i wonder when the time will come to look back
will it be a sad time or one of regret
i wont plan the time, but ill know it when it comes
my life is my own, at least id like to say that
these songs can parallel it, yet not define.
i yearn for the time to come when i will be accomplished
when i do something. when i go out and 'just be'