We're just holding on to nothing
To see how long nothing lasts

that's one of my favorite song lyrics. i'm sad, so i'm listening to sea change. that always seems to do the trick. feeding that melancholy. it's comforting. i'm also really tired. that may be why i'm sad. i'm really tired. i feel like a little kid who didn't get their nap, and now i'm rubbing my eyes and frowning and moaning a little. whimper. i feel strange. i think i want to hide in my house for a few days. tomorrow i have to look for a second job, so that i can make rent. i think it'll work out okay. it shouldn't be too incredibly hard, just this first payment, because i have to make a school payment at the exact same time. so i am certainly pressing myself. but oh well. i like the challenge. except for when i get stressed and break out in hives. i can make the payments with the job i have now, but i have to save for this summer. i don't like sad. or tired, because i'm hearing shit. for some reason i considered staying up all night, but i'm not going to do that. bad idea. no fun. no fun at all. yeah, but i keep thinking about things that make me sad, and i'd like to stop. i'd like to get off this now, thank you. i hate itchy eyes. sad eyes. i'm going to finish my job now, so that i can go home and to bed with me. i feel very overwhelmed with emotion right now. not all bad emotions, actually some very lovely ones. but they are disrupting the interior of my lonely brain. it's dark in there. and full of moths.

++++ + ++ +++ + + +

Go to sleep
We're so tired now
Altogether in a snake pit of souls
New days
Throw your chains away
Try to hang your hopes on the wind

Little one
Just a little way
Today all we need is waiting

Night rise
Like the evening prize
In a turnstile backwards we fly
Cold bones
Tied together by
Black ropes we pulled from a [sleigh]

Little one
Just a little way
Today all of the dreams are waking

Can't stand on crooked legs
I'm cross-eyed to the wall
In these harbor lights
Satellites [explode]

Drown, drown
Sailors run aground
In a seachange nothing is safe
Strange waves
Push us every way
In a stolen boat we'll float away

Little one
Just a little way
Today all we need waiting

Little one
Just a little way
Today all of the dreams are waking

Little one
Hold on
All of the dreams are waking

(-) (-)(---) (- -) (-) - --- -- - - -

(honey bees and parentheses)

well, i just went to poetry.com to try and read all the poems i wrote many years ago, and i couldn't. i have no idea why. it wouldn't let me. anyway. today was something else. i don't think i am going to go to bed tonight. i drank a lot of coffee, and i'm sure that if i try to sleep, i'll just end up lying in my bed for three or four hours and gradually become more and more uncomfortable. then i'll get up and take a second bath, {i always take one before i go to bed} smoke a cigarette in the tub, which has become one of my favorite things, read art in america, and then i'll feel more uninteresting and unoriginal and boring than i've felt in a long time. i'll think about growing old and getting married and having some man say to me, "let's have a baby," then being pregnant, having kids, being an art teacher, getting old, and then dying. and i'll cry myself to sleep. not really. but that scenario i just presented scares the shit out of me. shivers up my spine just thinking about it now. i think the most frightening idea i have ever had, was when i drove through the "bird streets" and looked at all the plastic, muted tone houses with their strange, unnatural lawns and their lack of vegetation, character and appeal, and i thought, "what if i lived in one of these homes, with my working husband and kids that i had to take to soccer practice. i'd spend my days doing errands that revolved around decorating the house and buying groceries. and i'd be busy as hell doing those things everyday. then i'd pick up my kids, make dinner, and have missionary-style sex with my suit of a husband." ... i just dry-heaved again.

+ + +++ ++ +


i'd like to talk during daylight
night is good
but almost too concentrated
to properly communicate
when eyes become darker
pupils have dilated
and everyone can see inside
curtain lifted,
the filters through which
we are normally seen
reveal unto others
the actualities
and too much truth

night is the solitary, lonely time
meant for silent thoughts
and the alternate observations
of life.

anything spoken
after the sun sets
should be carefully crafted
and only voiced
through whispers.

+++
++
+


+
+

+


+

*

*
*

have a pleasant holiday

at some point within today
i developed a love for humans
and accurately communicated with love
understanding a futuristic reality
but denying it pessimism
by playing pretend
and fabricating lovely lives
so there.
on days like today
everything is so blatantly truthful
i can't see shadows
despite the recognition
because juices were flowing
and i wish we couldn't help ourselves
but don't care so much, not much
there is such sincerity, don't worry
think once and finally for yourself
i'm not concerned about now or then,
and there.
each separate moment is far too important
and i wish we couldn't help ourselves.


"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""'''"""''''''''' '' "


everything's caught up in this bluster
november balloons walk across the ceiling-
inch by inch- it's january
blankets blowing in the breeze
we'll all get sucked out that window
i'll let everything go
watch objects fly into outerspace
what am i saying,
they'll never make it that far.
but i like to think they try.

i'll watch that balloon
manipulated and abused by the wind-
best thing ever seen.
maybe i'll get distracted-
let my guard down
and at that moment
instantly be
absorbed by this violent act of nature-
a freak accident
:girl sucked into outerspace.
mysteries surrounding how it is
she made it that far:


>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >> <<>>


pillars of quivering white
i love the light, and objects dancing
a distant and righteous tower
of Babel; forces pointing upward
directing spiritual growth
my nights are black & white
grey is a technicality

a curtain
a veil, guards the atmosphere
making more evident the glistening material
soft and cold, landing on right hand,
holding the deadly and dire device
puff. that is tonight
clear and white
not to be neglected.
i appreciate your eyes.
young blood sees.



*
*
*

*




i don't even know how i feel about any of these. i really don't. maybe i like them, but i feel like they're rather blah or trite. who knows. not me. today i am hungry, not for food. but i feel a hunger. days are strange. i don't know if i like them either. i'm pretty sure i do. they're better than they used to be, which is for certain. i think i'm just feeling strange about myself. my perspective of my own person isn't what it usually is. i'm very inquisitive of who i am, like usual, but now the questions are slightly different. they feel irrelevant. i know they are. it's easy to ask myself who i am and what i think about me, but impossible to answer. i'm very excited about giving an eight-year-old art lessons, however. i've been dwelling on it throughout the day, and have come up with some ideas. one of which being that the lessons will primarily coincide with some sort of art history lesson. for instance, learning about picasso, his influence and such. i'll keep it fairly simple considering he's eight, but i think he has a good head on his shoulders and is eager to learn. i want to talk about interesting artistic and abstract concepts. and even if he doesn't get it, the ideas will at least he there, resting in his brain. i look forward to it. especially because this boy asks me a lot of questions about gender roles, and that in itself will be exciting to deal with. we shall see.

some man just looked at me and said, "flip-flops?" and i said, "yeah." and he said, "why not, right?" and I said, "sometimes i get claustrophobic, and start to sweat a lot when i wear shoes." and he said, "oh, well, have a good one." and left. i said, "you, too, sir."

nothing pesters me more than calling someone, and having them talk to someone else, while you're trying to talk with them. i try not to do it, because it infuriates the piss out of me. i really start to lose it. i mean, how fucking rude. my mom just did it to me, and lauren does it all the time. and when they laugh at other people, while i sit there and wait for them to shut the fuck up, and let me finish what i was saying. i know i've done it, but i usually catch myself. AH! that's makes me so irritated!

here's something i wrote a while ago:

i wanted to get away
out of my head
for an hour or so
a break from my brain
find contentment in someone else

anything seems better than this
here, with people everywhere
talking and touching
never to me- not even at
so desperate for arms, a tongue
mine aren't good enough

why can't i find solace in myself
why do i need other people to breathe

i have so much to give
to whoever might want it
the select few
i've pointed at
don't appear to interested
after a spell

i'd like to see the grass remain greener
when i get there
and not only from a distance

and here's something i wrote the other day:

windshield wipers don't work
and there's ice in my eyes
hydroplane induced spinouts
fishtailing explosive blowouts
i should have turned around
pay attention
eyes on the road
ash in the ice
i can't
i'm swerving
driving like a maniac
dashboard disaster
dedicated to this dynamite

i think that poem is funny, because i wrote it while i was driving, during an ice storm, when i should have had my hands on the steering wheel. i've sort of come to this weird block. i feel i've covered the same material so many times. it's losing its luster. but i keep writing because i have to. i'm sure that i'll figure it all out. it's just really frustrating right now. right now i'm wearing the pants i made in high school for single survival, an orange and green plaid bathrobe with a huge tear in the back, and a nice blazer that i bought at goodwill the other day. my mom said i look rather fetching, and i don't know how to spell that because we all know i'm a terrible speller. i think i look great. but my insides hurt a lot right now, and i'm really dizzy. i'm listening to "alone in kyoto" and i love this song. i think i'm going to purchase a Polaroid camera- oh that reminds me, here's something i wrote the other night when i was drunk:

a sleeve across the face
the Polaroid pictures
i don't know why i feel at all
stop asking
and pressing
beats into my brain
i understand you, now
i know what the words mean
as i shake and seize
in the snow
it's true
and beautiful
lovely sounds.
for me.
i have to get out of here.
there are those in my pocket
i don't want them,
not at all.
so help me get out-
i would die here
so, it's only up to you-
jesus.
i'll cry for you-
beg.
what's the use?
in trying too hard?
none but love.

i can't handle sounds
i want to leave
only when i drink
and it's too cold
and blowing smoke and blowing air
get off ash- leave me be
i am all alone
and full of your hope
your beats and breath
tongue and cheek
stay forever, this
the music stopped
but it never did
because i kept on writing.

talk about your average nonsense! i know i was listening to radiohead, and i know that i was making less than my normal amount of sense at that instance. and that's about it.

*


no assistance in sadness
i can't help you
behind the murmur
of numerous voices and conversation
only able to deal with myself
with such an ugly face
the quivering muscles of my chin
sitting and feeling more awkward
than i've felt all night
beyond my social panic attacks
extending multiple layers of depression
i am incoherent
i am incapable of creating solace
and the silence of your thoughts
my nose wrinkles with failure
no one can help anyone
you talk too little
i talk too much
and the other way around
it's cancelled out
and all is for nothing

there's your laugh
the white of your teeth
the squint of eyes
and why did i even try
when you never needed help
fuck the both of us
for ever caring
we don't know anything
and we didn't help


********************************** * ****


left alone and undesirable
screams and cheers don't mean a thing
when together we set, but
you've walked past a million times
all alone
look no hands
who's screaming now
we should bask in psychological solitude
never doing anything
dogs scratching at the door
for our own
heaven sakes
drink this, sit here, and wait
boy and girl together
i had hallucinations of love
how is this emotion imaginably pretendable
all that i know is i cried
that's tangible, right.
that's sincere
you've walked past a million times
while my stomach turned
maybe you kept moving
so that i would.
all the yelling still
told to sit and help, lend a hand, i didn't
i sat,
proving to myself that i have no point
why didn't we land on our feet


++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ =+= +++


again this happens
it drips down the walls
tastes like limes and alcohol
reciting my life is all i do
why are these people here
who are they, talking always
loving people, -i do,
but shut up, please.
because now i'm crying over your voices
sounding so sweet
and content with life
i lost that feeling
years ago, it went
out the car window, automatic
six months it feltso nice
my faith in emotion is gone
nothing is reliable, like love
for instance, never knowing
its pessimisms
except in the lovely faces, the new, the fresh
that look so true
and happy for this and that
over something i've never
fully tasted, never will
stop talking
the sounds of security
kill me, cutting deep

do you mean it.
please do.
give me false hope.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~ ~


i've been hit
like a ton of falling bricks
questioning the silent ones
i think they're picking
my brain apart
but full of misinterpretations
can't stand the smell of it

there's the hollowed sound
of rain hitting snow
i love the fresh air
when it's filtered by smoke
there they are picking
at guitar strings
i am an oyster

we sift through the gutters
i'm all too green
these dark days so great
i want to drive into
a solid brick wall
i've been hit
i've done it again
all too cool and casual
tired and hysterical



*

i don't know what i'm saying
i hit my head
my brain swelled up like a leech
the blood the throbbing
pound pound
(um) tell me everything
whadyu say about me (ahk)
when we wore tweed
in the winter weather months
when the walls where falling in
held up by a box spring mattress
and the cats burrowed in em, tore em apart
the ceiling was stained brown and yellow
by sick pipes
bad water
beer bottles- tops, tabs- cigarette butts (what..)
cushion change
in the vacuum bag
i found an entire smoke and five dollars
the cats don't have food or water
litter what litter
it's already been filled to the rim with waste
i'm scared most of the time
especially of the bath room
i'll sit on the couch alone
and try to ignore everything that's moving
in the corners of my eyes
but here i am
here we are