I want

this is more of a writing exercise than it is actually something of substance. I recommend you try it, though.

I want someone whose voice cracks when they sing. I want someone who is secure in their masculinity, femininity, or lack thereof. I want someone who understands poetry and hates Jane Austen. I want someone who wants to go out and get shit wasted on Saturday night but stay at home with me all day on Sunday. I want someone who drinks wine and beer. I want someone who thinks about how they dress. I want someone who wears nice underwear, when they do wear underwear. I want someone who swears. I want someone who doesn't insist upon eating their Chinese food with chopsticks. I want someone who won't mind that I can drink them under the table. I want someone who smokes, but is trying to quit. I want someone who isn't afraid to smile in pictures. I want someone who likes being kissed behind the ears. I want someone who is really fucking smart. I want someone who doesn't mind if I am smarter than them. I want someone who works hard. I want someone who plays harder. I want someone who owns more books than DVDs. I want someone with hair I can run my fingers through. I want someone who doesn't care that I stay up all night. I want someone who thinks I am a person and not some abstract work of art. I want someone that knows how to roll. I want someone who doesn't like to be in the car. I want someone that smells like a person and not a drugstore box of perfume or cologne. I want someone that says "thank you," when I cook and serve them pancakes in the morning before they take their first bite. I want someone who will call me on my bullshit. I want someone who has nice lips. I want someone who doesn't like watching war movies. I want someone who fevers when I glance at them. I want someone that takes comfort in the fact that everyone is a little broken. I want someone who knows better than to act broken all the time. I want someone whose mind races. I want someone who loves their mother. I want someone who feels words in their spine. I want someone who sings and dances when there is no one there to listen or look. I want someone who bites their lip when I walk into the room. I want to sweat when I hear their name and I want all these things but I can't have them so I'm gonna sit at home alone today.

Hometown

This place used to be more quiet, when I was growing
up so tall and bold, so much louder than anyone else
we'd ever known and no one knew what to think of me
or anything.

I come home in the summer and notice all the little
splinters and splits, which stores have been abandoned,
which cars have been hit. Every warm day is a little
bit different.

The cops from one town over started cracking down;
so the methheads scattered through the pine trees,
like cockroaches suddenly bathed in refrigerator light,
all skeletal and brown.

They swept through the green leaves into our yards,
wandering, searching, not-sleeping, mattresses
on the floor, ash in the windowsills and after a day
in the sun, one of them drowned.

But they multiply every day, all spiny and spindly
and dark. I see them swinging too hard in the town
park where I used to play with my best friend and
we would smoke cigarettes there as soon as we
turned fifteen.

Maybe I don't belong here and maybe I'll never find
comfort in the arms of that old tire swing but still I'd
rather things stay warm and twinkling, not turn brown
and chemical and stinking.

A draft

I've been camping the last few days. Did some writing, but mostly reflecting and experiencing, which I think are more important than the actual writing, sometimes. Home alone the rest of the day so I'll be working on things. Here's a draft.

hip bone bruises
always remind me
of you.

Stay away boy,
sickly pale
your hand is cracking down my back

Look at you now
lord knows you've got a smile
but it just won't crack

and I drank you like water
but you went down like fire
lightning clanking at my teeth

So lick your lips and sway your hips
but you're not digging any deeper
into me

In the dirt, we'll dig around
but there's not much left to be found
since you stuck me in the ground
and your head, it's blacker than
your coffee

What will it be this time –
a bullet, or a noose?
cut it loose

You tick like you're name is clock
and today it's just too much to watch
I think I might just let you wind down

and I'd shower you like rain
turn your body into moss
but you're just a sprinkler
so easy to turn off

wine vs beer

baby, you wanna down me like some cheap six back
some beaster on the beach
chug me up and bust my bottles
so that both of us get smashed

but I'm a bottle of cab sauv, which'll still get you drunk
but it's nicer if you sip me slow
get a little tipsy every night
savor the complexities

so go ahead, drink me up real quick if that's what you want
I guess I always knew you were an alcoholic
but I'm just warning you right now
too much wine'll make your head hurt in the morning

something sweet

you're some headphones I put on
I can't hear anything else
but you

and your breathe lives in my teeth
baby, you make me weak
but only in the best way

my bed is just blankets and sheets
crisp and clean, but incomplete
when you're not here

you make me think my name is melody
the way you sing it every night
so sweetly

tonight I could pour out the firewater
shed some of this cold armor
and be kept in warm arms, instead

Princess Peach

Charcoal curves get on my nerves
especially when someone thinks
that words are just words

I'm all knotted up again
like the hair on your new lover's head
after a night not sleeping in your bed

and I'm bruising like a fallen peach
no one reached for
when she was on the tree

but I'm a bench and you sit
on top of me
digging at me with your knees

I'd rather you sink into me
with your teeth
one bite and you might know I'm sweet

Sweet Ash

You're no heart of glass, candy ass
sometimes sugar ain't so sweet
but just sticky instead, covering me
and the ants come out

sometimes people get caught up in my dark
instead of a person, they think I'm a work of art
and late at night, I'm walking all alone
into the ark

or they wear their sorrow like a crown
and I pick it up but the thorns stick
so I sit him back down
he just wants to prick me

and I puff him like a cigarette
keep him secret, tucked in a drawer
but I always make sure
it's the one that's closest to my bed

Cold Water

My heads a swimming pool
he said he thinks its cool
but he'd say different if he knew better
yeah, he'd say different if his head was wetter

Oh, but you've never been much of swimmer
more a daydreamer, or just a dream weaver
picking flowers, but you won't keep them

And sometimes it's my fault,
I always save the leaves
even when they're all dead

I just wanna move my feet in the heat
shuffle up before I fall back down
stand up before my head hits the ground

but you're chugging your bad luck now
and sometimes good conversation
doesn't mean a goddamned thing

I'm naked, skinny dipping again
and you won't jump in
I'm through with it baby,
after all, it wasn't my idea to swim

Lock 'n Key

You say you've got drunk fingers
and I think you're itching at the trigger
drinking alone, covered in sin again
and I can just almost see through your skin

you're just not the type of boy
whose skies are always baby blue
you're just some new chore
one more thing left for me to do

your pockets whisper to my hips
but I just shut my lips
I'll listen but I'm not speaking back
no longer making up all the words you lack

“but when I sing, I mean those things”
over and over you said
well that's all good and well
but I can't have you living in my head

Once or twice, we messed around
but it's like Fort Knox now
I'm all locked up
you ain't getting in

thrust

Keeping down sustenance is a fight
my body is weak, even in the morning light
weary from laying in bed with a boy named Fright
who, never sleeping, shakes and shivers into me
all night.

As the boy I used to know would say,
"Love is a dirty trick,"
his words echoed as he thrust his dick
into whatever warmth would have him.

It's a tough thing, to be a whore
but what do I know, anymore.
All my knowledge sleeps behind
champagne screams.

My eyes are hazel but sometimes they are more green than brown.

I really hate this feeling.

Jealousy, seeping into my skin. Slipping under my eyelids and fingernails. Tingling down into the nerves in my toes. Being insufflated through my nose and into my brain. I fucking hate it.

The worst part is that I'm not really mad at anyone in specific. Except for myself, that is. Except for myself.

My head feels faint. I grind my teeth.

I hate the way they do that. Shut the door most of the way, leaving their body poking out. Hiding the other person behind the wooden plank between me and the air in the room, the warm body on the other side. As if we wouldn't be able to stand it if we saw each other, as if we'd scratch at each other like starving cats.

He didn't mean anything by it, I'm sure. It's just a pattern I've noticed. It's just my over-stressed brain, constantly studying behaviors and the slightest movements. I put too much meaning into smallest eye twitch, the tiniest slight of hand, the placement of someone's fingers, how wide their eyes get or how their ears perk up at certain words. I read them like books.

But people are not books. Men are not composed of pages.

I could take the easy way out and be pissed off at her, but that's just silly. I have no right, no claim to stake. If anything, she should be angry with me. She was here first. She had him first.

She never had him, either, is the thing. And she's leaving. In a few weeks. I need to be patient. In a few weeks.

But really, I don't want to be mad at her. Why should I? She has done nothing wrong. I am not one of those girls. I'm sick to my stomach just at the thought of being jealous as it is. I cannot possibly let myself be one of those girls.

I wish he would walk through my door right this second. I could shut my notebook and make these feelings disappear.

But I know that won't happen. Even if he were to walk through my door this very moment, it won't happen. He'll be a little different. A little distant. It will be tomorrow before he goes back to what he was before, until we go back to what we were before.

And then it still won't be enough. Not for me, anyway.

automatic writing #19

When you are sleeping with grinding teeth and sighing between snores and snoozes I am plenty frightened by what lucid trappings your tangled mind has gathered and wish to gently shake you from fractured slumber, keep you calm under heavy breasts and steady breathe but you are young and in need of rest, tired on my account and I cannot bare the thought of disturbing you.

don't think

You walked to the beach with stones in your pockets
You walked into the night with all your flashlights buried
You wear no picture inside your locket
At the best times, you always look worried

I don't think, don't think, don't think this will work out.
I don't think, don't think, don't think anything.

Maybe in a million years I could trust you
Maybe in a million years I wouldn't mind the rust you
keep on the soles of your shoes.
Always going, going, going,
going nowhere.

Fidget

This sucks but whatever. I need to digitally archive stuff until my computer is fixed.


He shoots but he doesn't cry
the rosewater stings but it is still
the beat in my head won't wait no more
the heat in my head starts a war

I see all the honey flying out your mouth
It's sweet but it is sticky and it weighs me down
I'm no bug trapped in amber
not a coffee table paper weight

“If we could be still
wouldn't that be great?”
well I'd rather not stay
I'd rather not stagnate

But you're pondwater that won't move
you're a predator with nothing left to do
so you lick your teeth, growl at me
as if I'm some flesh left for the taking

I'm so sick of rolling around in your hay,
hey, hey, get out of my fucking way.

Untitled as of yet

your hands clap
but there is no beat
I walked for 800 miles
before realizing I had no feet

you are a kite flying
but you're tied to me with string
and every bow in between
is a once-secret, singing, screaming

when I met you, you were a stream
thin and shallow, cold and flowing into me
when you met me, I was a mountain
quickly eroding

with each passing day you grew deeper
and carved more into me
with each passing day I turned into rubble
brought down to the earth's floor

Thank you, but I don't swim here,
anymore.

Black and Blondes

This is not one of the things I previously mentioned working on. Still haven't finished those. Like I said, they'll be long. I just whipped this out. Not perfect, but enough for now.

You got me feeling like a jerk
in an ocean of blue, blue, blue
You're forgetting it fast,
that you're the one that set the mood

I'm broke but I'm laughin'
while you're tying your shoes
You're drunk just like you planned it
and you're blowing me away

With the way that you keep changing
how do you expect me to ever match your mood
You say its all my fault but I never told you
anything but the truth

Night time, it keeps falling
you're still howling at the whisky moon
Night time, it keeps calling
and I'm locking myself in my room

'Cause when the phone rings me alive
I don't even have to think or blink
I just open it and pour my black and blonde out
right into your wide open mouth

And every night you sing it right back
tossing stones and lifting bricks from my back
Until one night your tongue goes flat,
swallows me up and burns me black.

I promise...

I am working on a few things but they are going to be pretty long and they are kind of hard to write so it is going to take a while.

Also they will not all be stupid sappy stuff or stupid bitter love stuff as per usual, ha.

SEE YOU SOON!