Monday, September 28, 2009
Sunday, September 27, 2009
College application process
I PICKED AND ESSAY TOPIC FOR THE COMMON APP YEAAAAAAAAAAAA
today was bipolar
i window painted, then got depressed and went to the spot at big bay and called everyone i miss. went home, biked to urban with reid marie and jake. purchased a dress. did not call mary or gus back. then on the intense bike ride home, we got stuck in a thunderstorm, but it was beautifully wet. drank coffee, and studied for my german test. throughout tha day i got in multiple fights with the parents, and a mini one with thad, but of course we don't stay mad for long. my birthday's in less then a week!
oh yea and i got eaten by a zombie uk uk
but that was last weekend
Smoke
I absolutely adore the way my hair smells like cigarette smoke. I know thats really bad, but i grew up backstage with dancers and actors, so associate smoke with that, and then all my friends smoke, so I think of them. Too many good memories attached to the smell that is impossible to wash out. I feel like the smoke almost dries out my hair and makes it like cleaner or drier or something that's beautiful.
sam and case came back for the weekend.
and im obsessed with atmosphere.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
In This Still Suburban Town
So familiar
I know this way
the bumps the sides
smell smell smell
like a raccoon that fights outside my window
no, i slink
i know
as still as a fox
leaving mass
oh joyous recall!
the bird was dead
the fox was my friend
the raccoons howled
and the frog man chased me
but i knew the corner house
the light speared by the full trees
reluctant to color
save me from the frog man
save me from dead birds
save me from the future
save yourself
I will save you
i knew it was you
amassed in the shapes
you had ridden your bike
through the night
a jaguar within
which was probably the reason for your smirk
the sideways smile that i sometimes get
no, you were a little drunk
and perhaps thought you could scare me
but you loom!
how can i be scared when you so obviously swing and
coca cola slides through my brain
with a jacket not mine
and hair damp from the ride
anyway
i knew it was you. you came out to get me
it was the only time
i couldn't wait either
and it was 3 in the morning
thank you for coming for me
because i felt it
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
leaving
How am I supposed to study when Gus just left. He's gone, and now I have no friends and no one to lean on.
I can't believe he left
this was such a golden era and him leaving solidifies the end of the happiest time of my entire life.
I just can't fathom how it stopped
I just want to crawl into a black space and dance to the sound of white until I'm numb.
That made no sense
I can't even write a poem right now
I just want things to go away
everything to go away except for my old life
what the fuck is going on
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
leather belts
both sides the noise of the belts
against the velvet and wool of my shirts
which only point out that I have a short torso
its too dark here to see the scars on my hands, and on my legs
and to see that I've lost the knack for writing
and words no longer paddle across my brain
the blood on my hand
is no longer there
I look
although this closet is thick
I can hear the apples dropping
creating a clamor larger
then my self
falling as my arms twist and my feet feel
skimming down the branches to an unknown place
in the corners
that will become so easy
my feet feel the pavement
the water on the sharp blades of grass in the night
the bike spinning wheels
the ground splashing
and I saw a fox
and I saw a bird with no head (but someone cared enough to tag it's foot)
and I saw a squirrel with no insides
and I saw a sunrise and a sunrise and a sunrise until I come home when it's dark
my toes slip down the slime of the berries on which the chickadees feast
and touch the black underbrush
and climb home with sick stomach feeling
and strip off the moisture form my hair
and strip off my cloths from my steaming body
as fresh as the mist
yes, I've seen two sunrises
one hour apart
and you leave the day after tomorrow
and you left saturday
and you left tuesday
and you are gone
running has been forgotten
to forget pain, to release joy
this odd everything left
left
i wish the scratches were still there
or at least a scar
but all that remains are a few etched lines
that were given by deviant scissors, or some careless page
i miss
i haven't slept these past days
i haven't slept these past
days
i haven't
slept
these past days
the door never needs to be opened
the window is
enough of my mind that it spills outside
our cloths might get soaked
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