crumbles

I want to reach out
and scoop up a handful
of that
green crumble cake topping
outside my window
so that i may feel
the way the mountain does
when the green grows lush
I want to sit inside
a cloud
with the family of rain droplets
and contemplate the color of the sky
before i fall
back to the earth
I want to be the song you sing
in the morning
when you are happily alone
so i never loose
the sound of your voice
humming in my heart

happy

A thunderous beat pounds within my chest
I'm running to catch a breathe that refuses to stay put
Cheeks sore; stuck resting high above a toothy smile
I've let go of my responsibilities
like colorful balloons to float away into the atmosphere
Caution has been tossed in the river
Care thrown to be feasted on by the clouds
and I sit marinating in this sultry contentment
terribly happy

short

today i

was cold

it was

windy

partially cloudy

and bitter

possible too

much so to

be outside

Don't

while you lay amongst the dust bunnies, fallen hairs, rows of fabric, and mutters of your subconscious freed from restraint by the nectar of night, don't forget I am still here.
Sitting bound by my thoughts of you.

Poison Ivy

Bulbous
Red Rash
is crawling and spreading to every
inch of my skin
Thick
persistent
itching is nagging each and every pore
down into the depth of my being
I
Hate
Poison Ivy

wetter

drips drops
chipper grey rain falls
pitter patter
sloshing the drops in all directions
heal and toe
one next to the other
running in the downpour
my toes are soggy
I'm melting
I love the rain

Good Morning

My lungs are screaming some sticky black song of sadness
My veins are shaking, pulsing, and crying as this caffeine soaks into their deep wells of blood
My eyes are cracking; dry beneath old contacts long left upon them
My toes are numb, wet, and over-watered from the weeping grey sky
and my mind
is tired, sore, and quite terribly blank

Frustrated

Frustrated is such a beautiful word; yet it is so negative.
Please push my buttons when i'm obviously worn down
Please snap at me when i'm doing my best
Please for the love of all things good
get some work ethic, some balls to say what you mean
and if you can't step up don't play the game
This must be a joke
Frustrated from hunger
from lack of sleep
depreciated self worth
inabilities
and fulfillment
Frustrated

3-24

Today
I'm myself
black stretched out wife beater loosley hanging over slightly too-tight biking shorts
My foot is scarring as the dark dried dead skin begins to flake, fall, and fringe off the wound
hair straightened
nail polish scraped, scratched, and scrubbed to the brink of exhistance upon both fingers and toes
smelling of dark beer, bad cigarettes, and Calvin Klien
not perfect, a little broken
but I'm myself today
nothing feels better
than that

backpack

blue pen, black pen, folded square of paper, gum wrapper, credit card, new debit card, blue lighter, pomegrranet burts bees lip balm, boob phone, 63 cents

Replaceable

Honesty moment

'I really missed you'

couldn't even say it

to my face that is

missed me?

missed me?

yeah; like you miss

stale bread

too-ripe bananas

and new shoes

only when it's all you've got

"I missed you too"

was i lieing?
only a little

I missed you at firt

a lot

like chocolate when I PMS

and my puppy when he is with his other mom

or scarves in the winter

then

more like the smell of work

and now i almost forgot to miss you

or that i did at all

life

it's a funny thing

funny that you miss me now

now that I'm okay

now

that you found

a replacement

now

that you dont need me

anymore

it's funny

that i called it all

funny that it's funny

that i lost my best friend

ha

i guess that

isn't really

funny

is it?

comfortable

smell of cigarettes in the car with the windows down, old coins in a cookie tin, my fathers camis, child abused carpets, dirty garages, an old green couch in a house on maryland ave, the roof of an abandoned ice fatory, in my thoughts after a cup of coffee thick with soy and sugar, and inside a hug

3-26

There is a soft chipper breeze thumbing through the tangled red throngs of tortured hair upon my head. Face is broken out, fingers sore, toes dirty, and i refused to wear a bra today. This sunny-side up disposition of mine is doing my day well and the soaked-up rain has soiled my stepping spots to just the right softness.

feb 9th

Drinking coffee, waiting for date, been avoiding my journal, been avoiding reality:a lot of things actually. I need to buckle down and get back into the swing of things. I need to step it u and get it rolling. And i need to get back in shape.

Want

Today I want

I want

Someone to pick flowers for

To play pianos for me

To make happy

I want a house built by my hand

Fresh tea and herbs

To read poetry and drink coffee

Run with my dog, and sculpt

I want to have a reason

to create, to lay in bed from sunrise until high noon

Want

Someone to hold and have

Today

I Simply

Want

Sandy

Sticky

Salty

Wrinkled

Damp

Golden strands

Caramel browns, greys

oak and a hint of sun

curling and cresting

Waves ever-flowing

upon the beach banks

of my forehead

tossled in with a few measly

dry hairs

overlapping, entangled,

and dripping dustings of sand

A little wilted

I was melted butter soaked into the crusts of wood flooring; melting my all-too gooey heart over the 4 legged ball of marshmallow fluff named Hillan snuggled into the crannies of all my crevices. Salty sweet and content resting with the dirt and ashes that accumulated from the soft murmur of the fire beyond that rusted metal guard.

Today I've become the wilted whispers of the the weeping willows long branches, rickety in the chatter of the wind. Too much time was spent inside beyond the lengthy stilts of the sun, the call of the spring sprouts, and the kisses of recently rained upon soil. A little wilted, maybe just over-watered and blown around underneath my own personal cloud. Tomorrow will be better I'll just remember to forget this doldrums im stuck in of too many hopes and nowhere to put them, I'll let that rejection I've been mucking through wash off these boots of mine, and pretend this gash in my mind is just a scratch in hopes that I'll loose enough matter to not mind in the morning.

Wild

For the sake of sanity

I let myself go crazy

Howling at the clouds

Knee deep in crisp clear blue-green mountain water

Slipping over slimy clumps of moss holding onto ancient stones for dear life

Today I'm

Covered in

Red clay, dirt, leaves,and torn fabric with battle wounds down my arm and warpaint upon my face

Today I'm facing the world

By running through

The thickets of grandfather trees, thorn bushes, mushrooms

And dead leaves

As far from the

Real World

As

Realistically

Possible

Fell

Fell back into place

Cold clammy toes

Sock-free

fallen into the cleavage

of old worn in shoes

or that's how it felt

Silky breeze, cotton clouds, and

a brilliant sun warm upon the earth

sitting, sipping sweet coffee

among the smells of spring

inside this long needed catch-up convo

with an

old best friend

misplaced in the battle

between head and heart

soft and warm

comfortable

and safe

like a worn in

pair of shoes

As Is

As is like this broken old house

like the ripped leather shoes you refuse to dispose of

I'm as is

like the dirty coat you got on clearance

like expired chocolate you know you are still going to eat

and like those CD's someone left behind to be forgotten

which happen to be you favorite

despite the scratches and skipping

Today I'm as is

But as is

is as much as

I can possibly be

I'd like to think

As Is

is

enough

Tired

Tired is a word far too often used. It's a worn article layered under a dark exoskeleton to later be expelled, to be used and exploited. It's an abused escape route when reality seems a little too real, when the truth is too harsh, and when anxiety seems far too taunting to approach. Right now I'm actually tired, in the realist and most true sense of it's meaning; for the first time in a long time. I am not 'tired' to cover up my anger, nor to hide my intimate confusions and jealousy from the every-mans' eye. Today I am sore in my muscles,bones, and almost certainly in every tissue type in-between. Mentally strained though it seems so utterly pitiful to admit, emotionally drained, and possibly in need of a good nights sleep. Beyond the skin of this matter let me delve deeper within this statement to the meat of it all. Possibly dive deep enough to be immersed within me, down into the crux of darkness where my thoughts lay. Today I am tired of producing nothing. Tired of my self image: my severely flawed physique, my wrecked reputation and my self worth or lack thereof. I'm tired of my inability to be worthwhile enough to be loved by someone, tired of the simple things, but most of all tired that I can't, won't, or I'm incapable of not being so tired all the time

Nipply

It's chilly

windy and 42

possibly a little too

nipply

to be out in the creek

in just

my

nipples