i dont think your ready for this jelly.

after quite a bit of in depth thinking.
and years of personal experience.
ive finally come to terms with the fact that.
most humans.
struggle with physical acceptance.
most, if not all.
this to include as well.
the male species of course.
men worry about how ripped or not ripped.
how long their wang hangs.
hair teeth eyes butt
and yet.
in all my life.
the many men who have disrobed in front of my eyes.
they have never shown an inkling of self consciousness.
me on the other hand.
its was either.
shirt on.
lights off.
sheets up.
that is until.
in coming with age.
or pleasure.
or acceptance.
or just realizing the fact.
that im not fat.
i find myself unashamed to be.
nude on top of the sheets with all the lights on and windows open.
i am no longer afraid that whats underneath.
my thrift store attire.
would be seen as a swap meet reject.
never have i felt that i wasn't sexy enough to do it.
or fit enough to feel good.
my body's to bootylicious
and its gonna stay that way too.


the mist.

my head is cloudy.
clogged and i cant think.
i cant move things around or
form sentences that make sense.
i am sick.
i feel like a zombie.
walking dead among the doomed.
i cant imagine.
the rest of today.
what to do.
what to say.
"oh yeah that cool"
"wow, i know right. You too?"
how many awkward situations must i be in.
how many time must i drink my way into conversations.
how many time must i fade into the background.
pretending like i wouldn't rather be.
anywhere but there.
as much as in the past.
ive tried to convince myself
that these are my friends.
they aren't like me.
or us.
all of them.
they look different.
talk different.
love different.
my jokes are good ones.
yet they are reluctant to laugh.
i am not an elitist.
no matter how close it is to grasp.
my priorities.
have changed.
yet my name stays the same.
and i still
i see right through them.
even with my foggy brain.


twenty something life crisis.

last night.
for the first time.
i felt old.
set in my ways.
i felt uncomplelled.
these things like nature.
like nothing else to do.
we eat dinner.
and watch tv.
i clear the table.
i smoke.
he waits.
we brush our teeth.
i crawl into bed.
the clock strikes ten.
and i am tired to the bone.
i drink my tea.
he reads his book.
we make small talk about tomorrow
and the weather.
it rains.
i open the window.
we have sex.
we fall asleep.
we wake up.
i shower.
make coffee.
we brush our teeth.
we kiss good bye.
i close the window.
i walk the dogs.
i catch the bus.
i go to work.
i go to school.
i come home.
he makes dinner.
we watch a movie.
we sit closer together.
we hold hands.
i do the dishes.
he lets the dogs out.
we brush our teeth.
he takes a shower.
i make tea.
we go to bed.
we have sex.
we kiss.
he goes to sleep.
i stay awake.
i watch him sleep.
i fall asleep.
i am old.
older than i like to think i am.
i am set in my ways.
i am uncompelled.
i am in love.
this is my life.
this is it.

in all honesty...

"two tears in a bucket
motherfuck it."

-- The Lady Chablis


idle hands are the devil's work.

im waiting.
still here.
im just going to sit here and wait for you.
for this.
ive got nothing to do
my hands are free.
i know this is wrong
to let this linger in the air.
to allow this to mist among us.
i know.
there are things that should be said.
between us.
in daylight.
with out closed doors.
with out whispers.
sudden movements.
no shadows on the wall.
you are a horrible person.
with bad habits and a tendency towards violence.
and i
i am that bad habit.
wearing frustration on my chest.
anger up my skirt.
and yet.
we move together so well.
our hands find place in between faces.
reacting purely on sight and smell.
once more.
and them maybe we can say.
and " too much"
and "not again"
once more and we can leave this behind.
looking into your eyes.
is like staring directly at the sun.
touching your skin is like
pressing my hands on hot coals.
over and over and over again.
this i self inflict.
this pain like love like lust
wont change.
so i pray for distance.
and wait for rain.







its dark and hell is hot.

im paranoid.
nervous and on edge.
for some reason.
unbeknownst to me.
i keep feeling like something dreadful is about to happen.
i look towards the sky and see clouds.
behind me shadows.
people whisper and i know its about me.
last night as i was sleeping.
trying to force dreams into my head.
i do that.
i lay away.
i stare at him.
and i think up all this wonderful ideas.
small thoughts.
like tomorrow and the days ahead.
i pretend like we just met.
and this is the first time.
and im nervous and eager to please.
but then my mind fades from those pleasant illusions.
leading me down the road less traveled.
for obvious reasons.
i just want to relax.
i feel like ive got the voodoo.
under my skin.
i can feel it growing.
i see it manifesting its self in my daily routine.
that anger.
that fear.
and they all see it.
friends and strangers alike.
it in my hair.
on my face.
in my head.
under my feet.
in my bed.
the fear.
of what.
i cant find it.
ive searched the files and drawers of my life.
ive ransacked my history.
clean out my emotional attic.
and still.
it lingers.
it waits.
for no reason.
its there.
i live with this.
this night terror in day light.
this "something doesn't feel right."
out out damn spot.
and deeper it goes.
and it waits
until dark.


baby momma drama

is it me?
am i crazy.
why is the new trend for women between 20-25
to get knocked up and locked up?
im in love,
but love for me doesnt equal
giz inside
new surprise.
is there something in the water.
its like everyone i know.
minus a few.
has given up their free reign to the ball and chain.
and im not saying that this isnt a good idea.
procreate, thats great.
but why so young, and why so fast.
with all the horrible things going on.
why add more carbon footprints?
and i know about the clock.
and how it ticks.
and how it seems that motherhood is the shit.
just think about 15 years from now.
when you kid is smoking weed in your garage.
or the whole " dont tell mom the babysitters dead" thing happens.
and remember there's no taking your kid to mojos.
or baby bike polo.
no kids at the club.
kids = drama.
dont get me wrong.
kids are the shit.
they are small, little people
that you get to mold into whatever you want.
but shit.
they are forever.
no going back.
maybe im selfish.
and chicken shit.
and rude crude and all that inbetween.
my feet wont swell.


best friends make the best weekends.

atleast i can say i didnt puke.
for the first time in a long time.
i drank.
i laughed.
i smiled.
and it was worth it.
i found myself lost in the sea of tank tops and. beer bottles.
id just sit and look around me and their were so many people.
from here, and there.
loving each other.
it was fucking sick.
and i was happy.
to be in the middle of something.
that makes this whole shitty little part of the world.
fucking amazing.



is that to much to ask.
to be able to sit down.
turn on.
and tune in.
god damn season 4.
goddamn no speakers.
goddamn abc.com
goddamn december.
i miss it.
i really do.
lost to me is like...
is like...
is like...
my favorite sweater.
the comfiest pillow.
the cutest boy.
the nicest weather.
i just want it back.
im lost with out you.


Ray Bradbury, The Martian Chronicles.

There was always a minority afraid of something, and a great majority afraid of the dark, afraid of the future, afraid of the past, afraid of the present, afraid of themselves and shadows of themselves."

ebay is the devil.

if i spend one more penny.
on random.
new without tag.
hard to find.
i will have to file for bankruptcy.
what a horrible terrible no good very bad invention.


through with being cool.

ive finally realized that im slowly fading out of style.
its no longer trendy to be me.
i have lost all sense of cool.
what happened to the bar hopping.
club stomping.
get in your face.
make or break out.
fucking shit up.
get kicked out.
fuck you.
screw your mom.
gimmie a line.
pass the bong.
bahama mama drama queen.
ive traded my studded belts for muted colors.
my piercings for portfolios.
my sluttiness for sensuality.
for the better?
i guess it could have been worse.
to think back to what i used to be.
a user.
a lier.
a fucker.
a bitch.
loud and abrasive.
rude and misunderstood.
cocaine is one hell of a drug.
and now.
with out substance.
i never thought i would.
sometimes i feel like i could just turn around an walk right back into that girl.
turn around and she'd be there just waiting to fuck shit up.
but then, again.
its only a matter of time before.
being out, is being in.


brothers are dying.

and its not from guns and crack.
lord have mercy.

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moving forward.

because thats the way things are going.


in control

staying there.
finding a comfortable place to be lost in.
there are days where the lights are far too loud.
sounds too bright.
inside is the only way out.
if you lose its over.
nothings left but the thought of screaming shouting out.
reaching over someone.
persons turn to the pursuit.
and happiness is all that remains of.
what you choose to remember.
washing down what you force to forget.
fee d the nature.
nurture the beast.
there are things far worst than giving in to it.
there are things far worst that being a part of this.
there are things we suspect are suspect.
so we interject.
we fill it with doubt.
up and away.
let it go.
they look at you as if you are made of glass.
they touch you like your body is compose of sand.
looking through and drifting out.
salt on your tongue and under your feet.
you are solid .
you insides dry.
trying to control the high tide.