Lalala~

This is really amusing for some reason.

Okay, so my rising sign is Gemini, right?
My friend has this really funny book on the Zodiac signs, and the description for a Libra with Gemini rising both gave us a kick. Apparently that makes me: So unbelievably charming that even a gullible Piscean can hear warning bells.

lol.
__________________________________________________
I was surprised when all the smoke sank into my skin
You told me that I scared you sometimes,
I said “I know, but I can’t help it.”

I hope you forgave me.

It’s like being in a trance some days,
Watching the droplets of fairy dew evanesce off your body

I didn’t heed the warnings for contamination.
Didn’t heed them at all.

And I’m starting to wonder if you can even see me from up there.
I don’t understand what any of it means.
Why it was warm yesterday, why It’s chilly today
Why tomorrow’s forecast is just as cloudy as the air in my lungs

Last night I prayed that it was all okay.

Con Sequence.

You stood there on the corner with your mismatched clothes
Looking innocent and accidentally beautiful amidst the sea of loners

I came to the Cafe on Jackson nearly every Thursday just to watch you

Watch the way your rough cracked lips caught on the edges of your cigarette
The way your left cheek hollowed out when you chewed on it thoughtfully
The way your gaze never darted, only swayed secretly to watch other city dwellers
The way that tattered shirt you wore clung to your not-quite-perfect figure

I wanted to whisper in that overly pierced ear how delicious you always looked.

It was a Wednesday when you noticed me for the first time.
I wasn’t expecting to see you.

You smiled softly when you caught me watching you, amused that someone else was playing your game.
“What’s a nature hawk doing up here in the city?”

I closed my eyes slowly, shook my head, and grinned.
“Seeing if animals still act the same when they feed on smog and concrete.”

Your eyes creased at the corners as your smile widened, apparently satisfied with my answer. “You’re quick for someone who doesn’t look like they belong here.”

And as you looked up at me, you paused.
Then eyed me curiously.
“Does the hawk have a name?”

I replied by pushing my hair out of my face and laughing.
“Who do I look like to you? I like seeing what people like to call me. It makes me more of an individual, I think.”
I ended my sentence by glancing at you with a look that said, “Call me vain, or call me crazy.”

I think you understood.

You stepped closer, breaking that stranger-barrier you always seemed to have,
And put your hand to my face.

I can’t remember anything about you now except for how your scent reminded me of the forest, and how smooth your fingers were, even though I swore I had seen calluses.

“I’d like to call you a con artist.”

It was then that I took your hand from my face and turned it palm-up

I made sure you were looking at me before I pressed my lips against your skin.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Corn, sex jumanji, and frogs, oh my!

Well, this past weekend was Fanime.

I got home around two.
And it’s just after nine at night.
I woke up from my epic nap around eight thirty.
Needless to say I didn’t get much sleep this weekend.

Overall, I’d say it was alright.
There were a few moments that weren’t really awesome.
But there were a few moments that were.
And I ran into a shit load of people I never thought I’d see.

xD I’d have to say the worst part was getting stuck eating nothing but crap.
My insulin levels probably exploded.
I could tell they were out of whack after the first day. I was so fucking weird in the head.
I get a test this weekend, and I KNOW I’m going to get slapped.

But besides that.
I can say confidently that I do not want to be around people for a few days.
No one would leave me the fuck alone.

Omg@contact overload.
Dx Even when I isolated myself, random strangers were like “ATTACK~!”

But it was kind of cool-ish.
I read some awp material to some of the random people, and I got a lot of positive feedback.
x3 <3 Makes me feel good.

I love people.
Just stay away from me for now. xD

Because:
A) Do not want.
B) I’m still hormone retarded, and I’m likely to kill you, or cry on you. Or cry. Then kill you. Or cry while I’m killing you.
C) DO NOT WANT.

P.S- I’ll post the awps I wrote over the weekend some time this week.

Tell me, internet. DO YA FEAR DEATH?

Yeah, I don’t know.
:{D

Remember those uncensored thoughts?
Have some uncensored thoughts in awp form.
Try being inside my head.

This should REALLY make no sense. x3

_________________________________________________
Doing this,
I feel like a building.
Built to withstand the earth shattering
But still vulnerable to the man who throws a rock.

And I still wonder from time to time why blood and tears both sting so bad.
Why both leave sticky residue on my fingers.
Why both make me weak.
Why the reason for blood is just as translucent as tears.

And I’ve got advice for fingertips
Because they’re used to cleaning up both
I suggest you refuse to corrode, and expect better treatment in the future
Because soft hands can change you just as fast as glass and sharp words.

And rather than getting overwhelmed by choice,
It should be exhilarating
Because the future is built of choices and chaos,
And there’s nothing more exciting than the thought of what could come.

A standing ovation
Recognition
Suffering
Strength
Comedy
Pain
A guardian
A friend
A lover
An educator
A mentor
Loved
Hated
Alone
Free

I’d rather live with it all, than without it all.

And
Know that people are just people
And their ignorance is their own
Not parasitic
Not lasting
Just like they are.

Sometimes it’s just “Fuck you”.
And that’s poetic to me.

Sometimes it’s “I love you”.
And that’s poetry, too.

Today life is ridiculous.
Weaving back and forth between two different extremes.
Getting lost in self-made noise
Whatever, you know? Just “whatever”.
Because it’s far too late to turn into something pitiful

And who wants that anyway?

No, no.
I’m not like that anymore.

I don’t ask for reassurance every ten seconds.
I don’t think I’m garbage.
I don’t feel so fragile.
No, I’ll be just fine.

And my hair does look quite nice.

3 Libras

I always get put into the most depressing mood ever when I listen to this song.
xD
But it’s fleeting, so it’s okay.

It does produce some rather interesting sob poetry.
_______________________________________________
#1.

I’ve got everything you need to keep me together.
Teflon rope, hemp rope, nylon rope, climbing rope
It’s all right here

Bundled in piles.
Stuck in knots waiting at the pit of my stomach.

_______________________________________________
#2.

On the subject of property, I feel rather green.
This land is not mine, it is merely rented
My toes on this grass are futile
I have no home on this turf.

I’ve been passed over
I’ve been looked over, but I’m living regardless
I can see the rocks underneath all this paint

All my borrowed charm is erasing anyway.
My domain lies in another country
Where the day doesn’t fade into night.

It just shuts off without warning.

Funny, doesn’t that sound familiar?
_______________________________________________
#3.

Apprehensive needles hit just as hard
Drawing the life out of me.

I wish I could stop, but I’m addicted to this feeling
The sting reminds me that I’m real
This pain reminds me that I was always right
I’m the author of this story, anyway.

I should have predicted the outcome.

_______________________________________________
#4.

City Incense

My trust fell heavy on the rolling hills that surrounded this valley
And I stood there in rigid awe as they bulldozed them straight over
A man and his wicked sneer piloting the devil

It’s ironic, really. He tries to hide.
He doesn’t realize his stench is just as ugly.
Even if his form changes.

And now, all I can do in this place is watch the men digging graves
Watch them place those gray disks over the reeking holes
Trying to conceal the evidence
Trying to prove that there’s nothing filthy down below

And I’m disgusted with myself. Truly.
For putting myself in this situation.
Praying on sticks of city incense to help calm my nerves.
Each drag more potent than the last.
Because I’m fucking shaking from the effort of it all.
And I’m starting to feel like my bones are decomposing.
Rotting away silently beneath my skin and muscle.
Slowly floating away with the pull of the tide.
Just like anything else that was ever worth having.

A lot of what they do is distract from what they do.

For the first time in months I took a stab at doing something I call “Scrapping”.

I only do this when I happen to be in a particularly creative cycle because of how much effort it takes.
When you scrap, it’s pretty much a day long process.

So.
When my brain begins to function almost 100% in -let me humor myself here- phrases of poetry.
Something needs to be done about it.
So I can pretend I’m not living in some crappy play.

What the process usually involves is:

• Around eight hours of free time.
• A paper journal.
• A red pen.
• A nice space outside.

The red pen is just a weird preference thing I have.
I refuse to write in any journal if it’s not in red pen.
I also refuse to write in any journal that’s not red and black.
Lucky for me, I just got a new one yesterday that happened to be the right colors.
thnx@gf

Anyway.

I end up writing out nearly everything that comes into my brain.
That’s a lot of awp fragments, folks.

And at the end of the day.
I sit in front of my computer.
And try to make sense of it.

For those who are even remotely interested in this writing process, I’ll try to show you how I produce a final product from all of this.

Okaay~
So.
For this particular awp, I’ve got a few phrases (Out of roughly 300) selected that I’ll list.

1. Top of the world
2. To the voices crying, “No demolition”
3. Nostrils filled with a sharp tang like citrus
4. Demands for privacy assist
5. Parliament cries
6. You laughed it off like it was all okay

These are the things that I’ll be pulling from.
I wont use all of them.
Some I’ll use verbatim, some I’ll rearrange.
Art is always flexible.

And as all scrap poems go. I’ll write it in about thirty seconds, and I wont edit it.
If I arranged all of what I did today into little block chunks, it would take me roughly (Editlol:thirty five) minutes to filter it into awp format.

It’s kind of like taking paint.
And splattering it against a canvas.
Then looking what appeared.

So.
Because of the loose rules.
It might be a little weird sounding.
:] But that’s okay.

_______________________________________

And you call this a fiasco?

Everyone knows
Shoved under this gutter, my cries echo through
Each sewer rat pawing for a different price
Brittle nails crawl up my back looking for answers
As if my skin would break into braille

As if snakes would burrow under my skin just to coil around her tiny little fingers
Just so she could get her sick little answers

Dig harder baby, my venom tastes just fine.

To the voices crying, “No demolition”.
To the parliamentry wails for privacy
She must look like Medusa.

You aren’t going anywhere, and your walls aren’t nearly thick enough.
Your demands for privacy assist can lock themselves away with the rest of your hopes.
Start chewing, metal takes a little while to dissolve.

And when your nostrils fill with the stench of sewer citrus, close your eyes.
Or the scent will overcome you.

Once upon a time
There was something deliciously sinister about these underground waterways
Now there’s nothing but the warped shard of a delicate soul

Searching for redemption and answers.

Randooooooom.

Okaaaay.

This is random.
But. Whatever. :] My blog, my rules.

So.
I’ve always found it kind of funny.
You know how 99.9% of people always get a thing for the guitar player or lead singer in a band?
Or a solo artist/duo/whatever.

I’ve got a weird affinity for keyboard players and pianists.

And I can’t help but fall in love just a little bit with a woman who can sing and play the piano.
Just a little.

Because when played properly, the piano is my favorite instrument.

And I’ve always found it seriously attractive when a woman can sing.
Seriously.
Like. Seriously.
Really.

And it doesn’t have to be like broadway status singing.
If a girl sounds good in her own way, there’s really nothing more attractive.

I’ve been with a girl who was scouted for the National Honors whatever choir several times.
And I’ve been with a girl who only sang in the shower.
Both were beautiful. It doesn’t matter. xD

And yeah. Paired with instrumental ability.
It just makes me want to fall over.

I was just thinking about it.
Rachel Yamagata popped up on my playlist.
Anywaaaay~
[/random fact]

____________________________________

Unfortunately my laptop will be MIA for the next month-ish.
It might take me longer than a week to get back into the creative swing of things depending on the access I have.
____________________________________

Oh, and another thing?

I ran into a woman at a store yesterday who had a 14 year old daughter that looked EXACTLY like I did at 14. Exactly.
It was trippy.

This is the weird thing. The woman’s daughter wasn’t even there. She looked at me and was like “Oh! You remind me so much of my daughter!”

She asked if I wanted to see. And I was like, “Yeah, okay.”
o_O;
She showed me a video on her camera. Not just a picture.

I’m not lying. This shit was legit. It was like watching me. She SOUNDED like me.
She even wore her hair the way I used to.
She was wearing a white polo and blue pants. Hi. My old uniform? WEIRD.

And she was playing a blue guitar.
What color is my guitar? Blue. It’s fucking blue.

I almost wanted to like. Reach into the camera and be like,
“Hey. This is what we look like four years from now. See? We lost weight and cut our hair.
We’re also in college now. No, not where we planned on being. But we met some cool ass people.”

I just wish people I had known prior to this year had seen the video with me.
My friend Jesse is the only one who bothered looking, and he only knows me for how I look now.

I was tripped out.

Hiatus.

I put a lot of myself into the things I write.
A lot of personal information imbedded in cumbersome phrases. x]
A lot of feelings I experience.

I feel blessed to even be able to express myself.
To have a small audience to witness things along side me.
To be alive today to press my fingers into a keyboard once again.

But I think I’m going to go on a creative writing hiatus for a week or so.
And see if I want to leak something new that I’ve been toying with.

Cheers, until then.

In the meantime, I might post a couple sets of lyrics or a life-update if anything noteworthy happens.

Fact.

When I was little, I used to look up at my textured ceiling.
And stare so long at all the little bumps.
I imagined all the tiny shadows were tiny spiders.
And they’d start to move.

It gave me a lot of nightmares.
And a lot of sleepless nights.

Fact.
I worry too much.

Hakuna Matata.
Hakuna. Matata.

Here’s the funny thing.

I post a lot of awps on here.
A lot.

It’s only like a third of what I actually produce.
If something ends up on wordpress, I just happen to have a browser window open.

Scary, right?

____________________________________________
Mosquito

In the park is where I found him.
Rusted potential rotting on a bench.
Sitting in the dark.
Alone, like they had left him.
Strung out, like they had made him.

Lights projected a fake smile haphazardly around his mouth.
I pulled him up without hesitation.
“Thank you for coming. I knew one day you’d save me.”

I laced my fingers in his grubby hand silently and carried him down the road.
His body was so light. So fragile.
I could feel his ribs against my shoulder blades.

His feet drug against the ground.
Occasionally causing sparks to fly out and rekindle old memories.

Some good, some terrible.

I could tell in the way he flinched.
The way his heart beat faster.
The way his veins stood out harsher against his pale skin.

Either way the sparks kept coming that night.
Once he ran out of memories, they just served to start small fires.
It was so damn cold.

He always had that effect on me.

I don’t remember how long I carried him.
Time started happening in miles instead of minutes.
I wonder why my perception was altered.
I couldn’t tell you.
Just his skin on the back of my neck alone was probably injecting me with some kind of narcotic.

I sped up.

A few blocks later, the sudden shuffle of my feet against a sidewalk make him look up.
His head shook at the effort it took him to look around.
“Why have you brought me here?”

I laughed and dropped him off my back.
He fell to the ground like a perfect bag of bones.
“I couldn’t stand something ugly in a place of beauty.”