Frosty the blood-man

I want to fall in love. not the kind of cliched fairytale "forever". No, i dont want no movie romance. I want something real. For once, i want to be in love with someone. I dont want them to have to be in love with me first. I want to fall. Head-over-heels, into happiness and heartache. Laughter, and joy. And pure, teenage, sweet-as-butterscotch, burns-quick-as-a cigarette bliss. Thats what i want.

Chinese women with a cockney accent

The hugs and laughs and memories, drape around me like a blanket of snow. Cold and frozen but beautiful just the same. We still share the same laughter and touch and hope. Hushed insecurities in the middle of the night. But do you know now? that every time you get a new "her". Everytime you tell me about your games of love and hate i ache inside. Slowly dying under your poisined haze. I try to pull away myself from these distant memories, this crushing friendship. But i can't. Like gravity you bring me back, your invisible claws like chains around me, unknown to you but there to me. I love you. I always have, but such words are never meant to be realized aloud. Wispered reassurances of things that may never come. So i guess ill wait. Till 11 11 everyday. And then ill wish for you...

Smoke filled hair

"They Went Home" by Maya Angelou

They went home and told their wives,

that never once in all their lives,

had they known a girl like me,

But... They went home.

They said my house was licking clean,

no word I spoke was ever mean,

I had an air of mystery,

But... They went home.

My praises were on all men's lips,

they liked my smile, my wit, my hips,

they'd spend one night, or two or three.

But...

You didnt.

They tells us of the good and the bad in the world. These people who do right and wrong. They shoved these grains of knowledge down our throats, until we can eat no more, then send us into the darkening world to digest our feast on our own. Grains of righteousness and guilt seeping into stomachs of dispair and tainting sinners' minds. But people are not black or white. Colors with juxtaposistions for meanings. Backstories lead the lives of each of us. Souls are a patchwork of multi-shaded pasts. Hidden stories overlap in eyes full of tales and tears. Stories revealed around campfires at night. People don't choose to be bad. They are forced into their choices, like the last pair of jeans in the wall-mart. We walk the paths of many. No right and wrong exists.

Fingernails of Laughter

This is a poem for the people who would tear their hearts awake and dash away the insecurities within.
This is a poem for the girls who lay alone at night- the brokenhearted and the rundown.
This is a poem for the ones with emotion that comes in waves and threatens to eclipse the soul. The ones who want to crack open their insides and steal away the pain.
This is a poem for the hell-bound and the weary, travellers seeking rest from the world.
This poem relieves and forgives, and takes away the earth.
This is a poem that massages time from the shoulders of life and wears away nostalgia to the core. It takes and gives an ebb and flow.
This a poem that heals.

World behind walls

I saw a man with a crest-fallen smile, pack slung wide across his back. Carrying his mountains of burden, tin-sketched lines told stories on his forehead. But his eyes were kind. His face told of stories far away, shadowed fantasys and foreign lands. His rough, grief-laden hands were made of smoke. Smouldering with ancient legends, trembling words to be given as a gift. His footsteps told a tale, and the present of his presence slipped by.

My darling baby with deep southern roots

You with the big brown eyes, kind and sweet forever. You with the soft curling hair, and beauty even aged. You with the old soul, and youth that stays with you. I love you. You with your sass, and your strength and grace. You with your boldness and wonderful stories.
A southern belle.
They say i have your love of books, and your old soul. I'm proud. You are my hero, my grandmother, my friend, my role-model. I want to do you good. My beautiful smile lights up for you.

I love you Nana. <3

I dunno but its heading this way

A boy sits, foresaken at the fire. Crackling pops tell you need not bother. Warmth of the glow and juxtaposition of the tears falling from the cracks in young hearts. Youth wears away as time grows still. Ticking clocks smash to pieces in battered memories. And winter winds wash away the ancient pains, leaving only scars of what once. Alone now lost he carries on, and sands shift softly through the hourglass.

Top of show girl

Tremulous whispers slide past the air at your smile. Subtext within the conversation. I wonder, silently, do you feel the lightning magic? or is it an illusion in the dusk to be gone as light approaches. I see the glimmer dash between your eyes as my heart pounds rythems as it threatens to burst. I have to know is it real.

Ick

An illusion a trick, nothing more. But still I fell for it. My heart looked for comfort and all it got were sores. Your pathetic attempts at hiding fell and I saw. Spiteful words crawl from my tounge- bitch. Jerk. Mysogynist. Yet none seems vile enough to capture this torn veil. Ripped at the seems, you must have known it was coming, I too. But your games hurt. And so I think I'll go. You don't want me fine- but you could've just asked instead.

White falling tears of snowy paper

Sometimes it scares me, this childhood fantasy of growing up and "settling down". The amercian dream. White house, white fence, white cubicle at work. So sterile, and surreal. Boundaries never seeping past the front door way or the office. To go and come everyday, and work so ideally never leaving home. Trapped, like a dog chasing it's tail, alone in small-town America. Why would you stay bundled up? Shielded from the world like this, in this perfect suburban life. There's more to life, to dreams, to futures, why waste it on just one thing. Fly, and fail, spread your wings and take a chance because in the end it doesn't matter. Im afraid, not of failing, but of being trapped and never flying. Don't let yourself fall in.

Foot Shadows And Taj Mahals

A touch, a glimpse, sudden urge unknown. In the dark, the lights cover the sins of thoudsands. But tonight it doesn't matter. Tonight the dusk has come. Silk sheets slide togeather and apart. Skin with hints of butter. Charcoal shards of things that may be slipping through the dark. A boy and girl, breath mixing breath. Summer nights live on forever.

Giant Gummy Bears

She said don't do it if it hurts you. Her words echoed in his mind. Searching till they took hold of something bringing it to light. She said love don't hurt, it should never be too much. Don't go chasing a dog with a leash, or you just may end up lost on a street, far behind and alone.

Blind pride

Soft tears slip down inside holed up unescapeable. Nothings changed. The same look and hint the same glance and shift away. You asked, the only one I wanted to and you did, but she called you back. Dog to her side and I was still the same. The only one who could tell. So I'll go again and hide. Maybe one day these scars will show but for now they're hidden in darkness.

Channel your inner boys choir

A laugh like silver a dash of lace. A broken heart and sick-sweet smile. Scars and wounds of battered minds. Will the waves stop crashing? Or will you not wait a while?

Even his voice is hot

You call me friend, smile and wave hello. But as i turn you laugh again at my thinly protected back. Slipping words into their ears, lies that almost break me. You say forever like you mean it. But those shifting movements in the dark blind me like the roses thorns. I will be wary next time we meet, because this time i know.

Bent Flower Paper

Will you be the one? Eyes like glass, shining and clear. Eyes that could make a mountain bow. My head is tilting. Wild rivers dashing at the sides, begging to be calmed. And the butterflies. Familiar and haunting, making me want to rip open my heart and set them free forever. Will you change this hope, this desperation? Will you be the one to tranquillize this inner chaos. This pandora's box, residing in my chest. Those peircing movements poke fun at myself. Their words, and whispering wishes stepping into my heart and stabbing at the wounds and insecurities within. Will you be the tape that holds me togeather as i fall apart? I know its not much but i need you to be there. When i fall apart, crashing to the shore and coming up for air. Will you be there? Or will you tip-toe away, and vanish silently into the night as i wait for the love that wont come?

Gay Nazi Jews With a Bowlcut

Miles away a baby cries. Tears of hunger and pain. Dust rolls in clouds, and we lay here and pray that we dont get eclipsed by it. But what of the ones who are left without voices. Throats as dry as famine. What of them? What of the ones sitting alone, on the cold hard concrete, waiting for daylight to shine on their faces, heal their wounds. What of the ones beaten, and shrunken like socks left too long in a drier, all for what they believe...who they love. The strong and proud, slammed into submission. Struggling, toiling, in their silent cells. Who speaks for them that cant speak for themselves. Do you hear the hearts pleading? The hope that threatens to drown us as each new day dawns. Remember those who are lost in that sea. For after all, "Attention must be paid."

Lemon Poundcake

A laugh and shrug, a brush of the hand. Two hearts embeded as one. Clothes rustle past each other and gather togeather. Kids run and play, hopping past their lives with one another, into the crash of love. Glowing, radient, beaming love. The world revolves by it. Like chocolate, the cure of everything, all faiths. Faith slipping over the head, of friends. Gathered togeather and gossiping. Spilling out secret wishes and absorbing hidden truths through hushed lips. The happiness that turns the globe, uniting nations. Love.

But it doesnt smell good!

Reaching behind this veil is hard, to peel back to inner layers and the deepness inbetween. We see this transparentness yet hold up the veil just in case. To dig, go deeper, only creates mess. This dirt strewn about, puddles overflowing. Its easier to leave things unsaid, hide away this jumbled mess behind closed doors locked tight. But ignorance is not quite bliss. For the digging has to begin. This work left undone could rot away the crisp bright apple, leaving only the bruises beneath. Put on those Levis, comfy jeans. There's holes to be dug, and scenes to be played. Why leave work undone, with these halfbaked dreams.

Love-mails From Dallas Texas

Whispering hopes fly across your mind. Shallow dreams, expectations, never alligning with such harsh reality. When the illusion shatters, like glass slammed by a bat, crystilline tears trickle down your face. Spirits lifted high into the night, on the wings of that one small silver sliver of hope, to be smashed back to earth again as soon as you realize. What did you expect. Life is never as you wish. Like a genie in a bottle, wishes become distorted. "Be careful what you wish for or you just might get it". A cliche phrase spoken through poison-laced lips with a razor-edged tounge. Hope tempts, then takes, so why is it so addicting? You never know what you may get, good or evil, the choice awaits. Which do you choose?

The Starwars Leggos Are Always Best

My skin is soft, and glowing in the soft evening light. My hair shines. And i smell beautiful. But i wonder, will you notice? maybe if i come a little closer, you will realize. How i long for you to hold me. Maybe youll notice how soft my skin is. Like silk. i watch as you slide your arm around her. But all i can think of is if it were me. But then, it wouldnt be. Maybe if i change will you notice me? But i cant. So for now i will go back to bed. And wait for when you fall, and ill be there to catch you.

Dancing Men in Shiney Hats

My whole life it's been there. This imaginary concept we brainwash ourselves into believing, if only to feel less alone. Love. From a friend, from a parent, from a husband, or wife. We convince ourselves that love is pure, and wonderful, and whole. Forgiving, and perfect. Nights spent staring at a television screen, watching gushy romance scenes unfold, and wishing, longing for something so beautiful.
I remember when i was little. And everything was beautiful, the world didn't seem bad. Trusting someone seemed commonplace. And loving someone was simple. Easy. But then, i grew up. As we all do, and as the world expanded, the cracks beneath the surface, were revealed. i started to notice all the bad things in the world, all the pain, and the suffering. All the broken hearts, and untrusting people. And i grew a shell. To protect myself. I stopped believing what others said so easily, and started to watch my back every step, trying to protect my heart from more of the scratches it had already endured. And love became this beautiful fantasy. Like childrens' fairytales. Magic. Healing. The one thing that would always be perfect.
But thats not what love is. It is amazing, yes, and beautiful. But it's not pure, or whole. It requires work. And faith. But more than anything, it requires trust. And sometimes it's hard. To let in another person. But i think it's important sometimes, to love. And even though love can get you hurt, it can also make you happier than anything else in the world. So i will keep trying, even though i may still get hurt, i want to keep looking for love. True love. If only to help prove that beauty does exist in this world. Because through love i learned how to be happy. How to be myself. I learned that at the end of it all, it doesn't matter who wins or loses. All that matters is the one person who stayed, just to watch you finish.

Notes to remember

Fingers nudging keys. Begging truth to be revealed. But with nothing to give, what can i bring. My eyes are burning, tired in the night. But my mind is blank, longing to be more. For now these words, scrawled upon paper are all i have, too tired to go on. Words press into my mind, asking to be let out, but as i reach for them i find they dissapear. These half-written ideas, wishes, and dreams, pale in comparison to you.

Vanilla Dreams

This rollercoaseter dream, this fantasy ride.
I dont know when it started, or when it ends.
All i know is everyday i think of you and smile.
And everyday i think of you and cry.
A whirlwind.
A tunnel.
It all moves so quickly.
To stop and think doesnt make me pause.
But to pause makes me think.
My mind seems empty.
Yet full
Your eyes, so beautiful.
What does it mean to you?

I hope youre happy :)

You said you'd be there. You told me that you would never dare leave. You smiled, and laughed, scrunched your nose and exchanged my looks. But then you left. And you weren't there when i needed you most. Your words turned into lies, and you talked behind me. Writing words upon my pages. My open book. Then destroying it and not looking back. Im so tired. I think ill sleep but when i wake, will you be there? or will you be off, talking more, and thinking less, while i lie awake hurting inside?

Its like hermione granger hair on my arms

Vanilla, and fruit, a hint of warm hair products, and tropical lotion. My scent of choice du jour. Fragrance punctures the air, and i smile, breathing in this sense of beauty. I sit, cross-legged on my bed, warm and comfortable- a folder in my lap. Air fills my lungs, and drops of heaven pour from my soul as i open my mouth and sing with all my heart. I sing away the time, and my worries, the thoughts of things happy and sad, i sing and feel wonderful, stunning. Sing and sing. If i could sing forever i would, and act.

I run my fingers over the words, memorizing. Their voices call to me, whispering stories of far-off lands. I change, become a better me. Another part of me, one hiding until now. These monologues say the words i cannot and i laugh because this is what passion is. I want to share this joy with others, these words holed up inside, but i must wait for the spotlight to hit before i tell my piece.

With Sassafrass

I laugh, mimicking the inside joke. My heart swells, knowing i am part of an "us" now. Is it official? The way we act, best friends always act this way. Is it the same for you? The feeling that you are my best friend? That i wouldnt stop being your friend no matter what? Ive broken my heart before. And will again, i just want someone there to know when to comfort, and how to be gentle with me. Just as friends of course. Someone to pick me up when im falling, and just know. But then, i shouldnt really need that someone should i? Because i can pick myself up. But its the knowledge that counts. The intentions behind the words that truly matters. At least to me.

Something always brings me back to you...

My heart is shattering. Into pieces. Being torn from my chest.
You look at me, this gravitational pull which sends my head into dissarray.
Spinning, spinning, only to land in a place where i am alone. Empty. Deserted.
Movies, take away the pain, send me spiraling into another land, if only for the moment. I need to get away from this pull twards you, but i can't. A dog chasing it's tail. Neverending. Love makes us happy, sends us soaring towards the heavens, but then we crash. Like now. The tears in my heart are hurting again. I need ducttape to fix my wounds. Or you. But you will never come. I dont believe in love. Not now, not for me. How can i? With so many wounds. Unloveable. Hope strikes me, ripping me apart, and putting me back togeather, such a bipolar word. Like faith, and love. Never quite made up its mind. This pounding in my chest will never go away. Passion, they call it. For what, ill never know

A lot of livin to do!

I laugh and smile. The lights go down and music plays. I shine. To act, and sing along with friends again. I feel free and happy. If only for a little while. Performing is what i was meant to do. It is everything to me. The one place where i feel like me again. It brought me back. And saved me.

Broken Tinker Toy

Ive forgotten.
What it feels like.
To draw so beautifully.
To sing, and actually feel talented.
To be happy and carefree.
To feel like my friends would never judge me.
To be just...me and to be happy with that.
I know that i could never be perfect. And i dont want to be. I just want to be happy again. To bask in the warmth of your love and glow in my own confidence. To be proud, and able to argue, instead of shrinking back and feeling guilty as soon as someone declares an opionion that isnt the same as mine. Feeling ashamed because i cant be strong in who i am. Wishing i even knew who that was. I cling to these material objects, and empty facts. Telling myself to look at what ive accomplished, and pushing ever further. But such shallow victories are easily seen through. Leaving me yearning for something new. Forgive me if i seem a little off. A little different. A little withdrawn. Ive forgotten.

Who died and made you king?

Water stains drip accross the mirror coming to rest at the bottom. A girl stares back at me, kind blue eyes, soft blonde hair. She seems familiar but distant. Happy. Is this really me? This face in the mirror, pretty, but not quite gorgeous, tired, but not quite sleepy. Sometimes im not sure. So many changes have replaced the one i used to see. Each day my reflection seems different. Yet i feel the same, grown up a little, changed imperceptibly as my reflection was. But when i look back the outside is more changed than the inside, like a marshmallow burned in a fire. The outside crisp while the inside is just beginning to melt, the middle still so cold. For now, im happy with who i am, outside in, even with such disconnect. So i wont bother to change, but how long will this balance last i dont know.

Nightingale

When i was little my mother used to sing me to bed everynight. Songs so beautiful i could drown in her voice, happy, safe. As i grew into elementry school i would sit on the swings at recess and sing. That's all i would do. While the other kids ran and played. I guess looking back it was a mistake, a wasted oportunity. But now, singing is all that i am. When i was hurt or scared, instead of running to my parents to be comforted, embaressed by my weaknesses i would sing, soft songs until the sadness ebbed away, curled up in the warmth and comfort of a song, until there was only the music left. When i was happy, i would sing, and the song would lift me up, embody the celebration in my soul. As i got older, joined choir, i found others who shared this love of song, saw the beauty it posessed. And we sang togeather, happy, united in this magic. Singing, music, is my life. It is a part of me, like the french language, and cooking, something that is uniquely mine. No matter what happens, it is there. Always. I may not be the best at singing. I may not even be that good. But it never mattered to me. Because the way it made me feel, beautiful, like nothing could touch me, that was all i cared about. So now, when people ask me why i sing so often, even in class, or tell me to stop because "im too good" i just smile and laugh and say, what else is there? It is me. Its who i am. And i wouldnt change that. Not for the world. Because singing is the one thing that lets me feel free. Feel like myself. Me, and me alone.

Sparkling Cider

Im hiding these tears behind closed doors. Unsure anymore of who i am, or want to be. Influences push and pull in every direction, and i am easily swayed. Changed. Manipulated. I yearn to be perfect again. To be firm in my beliefs, but when temptation strikes i am taken down again. Every time. And then i remember. How it was, how you were so proud, but now so wary. And so i feel torn. Guilty, for crimes i never even commited. Who i am is slipping away, falling like sand between fingers. The more i talk, the more i fall, this wall building higher each time its torn down. I want to be proud with who i am. All of it, the cracks, and tarnishes, but then i remember. Im not perfect anymore. How could i be proud? I look at you and wish i could be the way you are. So pristine, and happy. But im not. Will i ever be enough?

Quelq'un M'a Dit

I wish i could get away. Just hop on a plane, and let it take me away, far from your eyes and ears. Far away, from my own mind. I wish i could escape my own desperate, crumbling, boring, life and run without stopping to think. Never letting these thoughts enter my heart again. I long to be something, someone, somewhere else. Someone more then who i am. Day after day your words penetrate my heart, and leave me feeling less. I just want to be alive again, to leave it all behind and start new, wipe this cracked slate clean. But i can't. Because even if i could go far far away and never return, id still be me. And that's the worst part of all...

Sitting With a Friend

We hide behind these masks of preconception. Everyone pretending to be just what they think everyone else wants them to be. We do things, say things, and act a certain way, just so that we can fit in. But inside we all yearn to be different. To stand out, be individuals. Have you ever felt proud because you've done something that no one you know has? But why do we have unwritten rules for what individuality is right? And why do these rules change and blur as we talk to different people? I dont want to wear this mask anymore. Im proud of who i am, the same, different, annoying, and everything in between. I think that people are always more tolerant of others then they seem to be, so why hide? Rip off these faces and reveal ourselves. If those who you meet along the way can appriciate who you are, then celebrate life with them, and if they cant, who cares? Neither one is wrong. Just different. And there is beauty in the differences, like a rainbow, life wouldnt exist without each color.

Giant balls of paper suck...

"When I was 5 years old, my mom always told me that happiness was the key to life. When I went to school, they asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I wrote down 'happy.' They told me I didn’t understand the assignment and I told them they didn’t understand life. "


Why do we need to "do something" with our lives? Why can't we just be happy, with all of it? Lifes really not that complicated. Humans just overthink it. Do what you want, and be happy doing it. Who really cares if its popular or wierd? As long as youre not hurting someone else, i say go for it. :)

When in doubt eat a cupcake.

I laugh, echoing your laughter. The inside jokes, and nights spent laughing. Writing. Secrets whispered into the thick summer air. Trust built, things unspoken gushing out in one last effort to be heard. And joy. The little moments are the ones that stick, like honey to bread in the humid morning of a southern day. The happiness. The here. The now. It no longer matters what lies ahead, only the knowledge that i am not alone in it. And with this, anything can happen.

Fingerstaches and Smelly socks

"Your eyes are beautiful," thats what they say. They tell me that my eyes are stunning. But what about me? What about the rest of me? Am I beautiful too? Or am i just another person? Just someone else. Fun to be with for a while, but needing replacement after time. Like an old doll, beautiful and exquisite when you first see it, but after a while the facade starts to crack, the beauty is stripped, and it becomes worn, useless. Wont you pick up this doll? see it through the cracks to the core? Where it is still beautiful, in your eyes. Will you be the one? the one who stays by, no matter what. The one that still sees the original beauty in this old china doll, and loves it. Only for what it is, not what it was or will be but for me.

Turn this stupid fat rat yellow

I want to tell you. But then, what would be the point? I stare at the phone, these untold words tickling me. I wait. For tomarrow. But if today were tomarrow, would i still want to tell? Would i still wish for you? Or would i change my mind. Streaming thoughts, useless against you. This wall so carefully built is crumbling. But then i have to wonder. Was it ever there at all? I want to tell you, but i know it is too late. Air heavy with untold truths, broken as the words fall from my mouth out to you. Waiting to be heard, finally. To be taken in by you. You understand. Is that enough? i dont know. But i wish it were.

Plastic Diner Tables

I love talking on the phone. I love hugs and singing with friends. I love playing apples to apples and being tickled in the hallways. The feel of silk against my skin, soft, smooth. The feel of your hand against mine rough, gentle. The sound of ciquadas in the evening. Lulling me to sleep with their syncopated lullaby. The taste of creme brulee, warm sugar that melts in my mouth, crisp, burnt, mello. I love to laugh, the ache in my stomach when it hurts so bad, and the feeling of floating, of being purely happy, nothing else. I love to dream, in sleep. And i love knowing you're there. Just in case. When i look around, to know that this is mine and mine alone, i feel safe, and secure. The sun touches my face, caressing me with its warmth and i smile.

Clean

Today i feel beautiful. Because of you. You made me this way. To see me as i am, me, alone. My shorts bunch up, and my hair is wet, curling, dripping down my back, puddling on my shirt. It creates marks, scars in my clothing. My eyes burn with tears, glowing with the hurt, but healing. Knowing. It is you who pulls me back and makes me smile. Lotion, perfume, scents the air, making me feel beautiful. Peaceful, at rest finally. Bands cover my arms. They comfort me. Protect me and whisper secrets that only i know. That i long to share with them, but cant. But that is ok. This fake reality, this delicate balance, covers the truth and reveals it. Separate, but togeather. I watch my phone. This connection to you. Happy, alone, lovely in this chosen state.

Write it on the skyline

I tried so hard. Did everything right, just for you. I did my best, worked until my head hurt, tired, but proud at what i had accomplished. All you had asked for and more, a surprise so that when you came over you would be proud. So that i could be the good child. For once. Not a dissapointment, but a prize. But instead when you came back to the house all you could do was yell. Tell me what id done wrong. Take away the one thing i had asked for. And look at me in anger. You called me bad, said that i had hurt you by not telling you the words you wanted to hear. Not reading the script and following the lines. Even when im my best, im never good enough. What does it take? tell me. Give me a handbook for life. Maybe then i could finally do right.

Ordinary Day

Dont you think its funny how sometimes you can not know someone for very long and yet still feel as if youve been friends forever? Or how youll think you hate someone, then spend a lot of time togeather and you realize hey, this persons really cool, or vica-versa. Its wierd how people change you. And you never realize until you wake up from life and look back at the past.

Cupcakes

I feel so torn, between this happy, dumb blonde. The one that everyone sees. The happy one, the smiling, laughing, childish, annoying, and exasperating one. The one that everyone hates, but is still so drawn to because of its endearing nature. And the sad, wise adult. The one who is mature and understanding, but no fun to be around. Worldly, but unhappy. This game i play hurts, happy and bubbly, but with an everlasting shadow, darkness, pain beneath. Its like a mask, and the worlds a masquerade, everyone performing this elaborate dance. But this time, the mask is part of me. Two sides, but everything inbetween. So many directions, so many choices, which to choose. I wonder if they even care at all, no one side seems enough, but how to combine, how to intertwine, these ever-shifting emotions, how do i make it me?

Green

Im trying. For you. You asked me to write, to try to sing, to make a melody out of these jumbled thoughts and ideas. But i can't. I guess i just don't know how. How to put these thoughts into words and these words to music. So i stit, and i wait. For something to come to me. But it doesn't. i wouldnt even know where to begin. Anger? Love? Longing? But none of those seem right. And i want this to be mine. Mine alone. Because nothing ever is. Not really.

Dream On

 Just once. Just once i thought that maybe I could shine. That maybe, just this time, id be able to be the one who came out on top. The star, instead of the supporting role. I mean, don't think i'm complaining, its not so bad, getting the side comments, the second best, at least you get some at all, right? But i thought that maybe for once i deserved it. Just a taste. A glimmer to keep up hope. But i guess not. I guess its just destiny, my fate. To stay on the sidelines. A fan, but never the player. A wisher but never a doer. I guess ill go back to my shadow, hand over your spotlight to you. But ill be waiting....hoping that maybe someday itll be my time.

On a burst of wind

You know what i love is when you go to buy something, or to do something at a store, and you happen to be in a good mood and doing something completely ridiculous so the sales person laughs and starts talking to you. Ya, i love that. I mean, i guess some people would find it annoying, but you know what i realized? Some of the best people in the world are sales people, just waiting there, in walmart or target or anywhere else. Just biding their time and trying to make a bit of a living. But we all have stories to tell, and them especially. I love meeting new people, because its always nice to know that there are really kind people out there in the world. And you never know the stories of these people, retired models who have traveled the world, poor people who've battled their entire life to live, one day, i want to be like that. To be able to tell my story to people, to make their day, just have fun and talk, not to worry about relationships- friend, or boyfriend- but just to talk. To bring a new perspective to their life, maybe teach them something...just for a little bit.

"I'll show you mine, if you show me yours first, let's compare scars"

Flowers scent the air. Your hand in mine, intertwining like the leaves of a tree. You whisper secrets into the air, pungent with untold stories. Of faraway places, of dreams, of beginnings, of things you hope to be. But dark pasts contaminate these dreams, as you and i both know. Shadows never leaving- but for now far gone. I lean into you, feel you surround me with your warmth. And i know that this is where i want to be. Need to be, forever. Me and you... And then i wake up. To the emptiness, alone. But i smile, because i remember what was. I know what will be.

No One's Got it all

People are materialistic. Its just how we are. But sometimes i wonder if we don't go overboard just a little bit. Magazines, and billboards, and movies, and TV all tell us that we aren't good enough. They scream out to people saying, be skinnier, prettier, manlier, be this or that. They seem to taunt us with these never-ending images, telling us to be what they want us to be, instead of who we are. Always telling us to change, that who we are isn't good enough. There are a hundred kinds of toothpaste made just to whiten teeth, dozens of hair products bouncing around words like shinier, stronger, and other crap like that. And then, when you go to use one, it's like you look and look for a change, some improvement, but even if something changes just the slightest bit it's not good enough STILL. And you need to go buy more. It's this infinate cycle of consumerism, but instead of finding a positive way to sell the only thing that this surrounds people with is their own fears, their own insecurities taunting them and bringing them down. The fact is that people will only see what they want to see. So maybe we should stop focusing so much on stuff....a good idea...in theory.