Still Thinking About Youat 24i was toldby a 28year oldthat my friends marriagewould failthat i was too youngto understandfour yearsthat's alljust four yearsdifference"but a lifetime of mineand a lifetime of yoursthey're so different!you can't say ageis the onlyfactor..."she didn't listen.turns outshe's still learningjust like me
To-Do List: March 201501-03-2015 When books say the words you have in your heart02-03-2015 Gums that feel like glass02-03-2015 Heat rash a reminder of where you've been02-03-2015 Waving at train drivers02-03-2015 And then they were gone04-03-2015 She wears her skeleton on the outside10-03-2015 Making sense of other peoples scribbles10-03-2015 Hands like her mothers12-03-2015 Cats and orgasms13-03-2015 Whisky conversations15-03-2015 Pre-sneezing16-03-2015 A heavy heart is hard to hold16-03-2015 I know where my soul resides16-03-2015 Be something good17-03-2015 Nag champa and crickets18-03-2015 Figs and tea19-03-2015 In search of eels24-03-2015 The best sex she's never had29-03-2015 He dreams in watercolours
To-Do List: February 201502-02-2015 FCFB banana juice02-02-2015 Standing up like an old lady02-02-2015 Sleepy little suburb02-02-2015 My weeks revolve around thursdays06-02-2015 Laughter on trains07-02-2015 A goddess, poetry and a fallen angel09-02-2015 Propensity for density15-02-2015 Ask your mother about a black and white cat16-02-2015 Dogs at patting height16-02-2015 Pumpkin porn18-02-2015 For as long as it lasts because that's not forever18-02-2015 How many people are just people? or do we all have gods inside of us.27-02-2015 The difference between knowing and not knowing is tears
A Cat's Promisefor as longas it lasts
Mot Familiarwe will walkin the shadowstogetheryour lightand our darknessforever
To-Do List: January 201504-01-2015 She wakes up to hear the rain04-01-2015 A hand full of lube07-01-2015 Missing leather09-01-2015 Two words are better than three09-01-2015 The things we do for flapjacks13-01-2015 The sudden absence of rain15-01-2015 She sees the world through uv filters18-01-2015 Breathe through your emotions18-01-2015 Always crying on trains.21-01-2015 Jenny. Her name is Jenny.22-01-2015 So many pretty girls that she's never going to be.28-01-2015 Bed sheet imprints
It's Easy Pip!you just keep going.how else you gonna getto where you wanna be?
To-Do List: December 201408-12-2014 He leaves no smell in her bed08-12-2014 With little to no resistance08-12-2014 She doesn’t lose him because he is not hers08-12-2014 The words and the truth are different10-12-2014 Blood and skulls and pastel rainbows11-12-2014 My love for classical music will never die.14-12-2014 God i have so much to say, i wish i had less to day.16-12-2014 Vagina enemas16-12-2014 Going to sleep sticky18-12-2014 Sometimes ‘i miss you’ means ‘some part of me still loves you’ and it fucking sucks.18-12-2014 Oh god these feelings.18-12-2014 Still fucking madly in love with the U S of you18-12-2014 The softest saggiest balls18-12-2014 Writing notes in quick succession. You still have that power.18-12-2014 I want to go to a photography exhibition and fall in love with peoples faces until my heart aches.18-12-2014 Thank god for oceans22-12-2014 Silly little love grins22-12-2014 Two doors open on door closed25-12-2014 Burning incense to be reminded
Where I'd Rather Beone stepbackand tothe right
On self-loveMaybe whoshe really loves,is the nameof the boyshe thinks of,while she linesher chatoyant eyeswith charcoalmaybe the nameshe really needs to think of,is her own.
If you can't sleepIf you can't sleepit's harder than your nighmaresor better than your dream.
Michaelasometimes, you meet people who are stormsin bottles, who are ships cast away on rockycoastlines, contained in a mason jar. sometimesyou meet volcanoes in human skin, earthquakeswith a laugh that sounds like skipping rockson summer colored lakes. sometimes, you meetpeople who are whirlwinds wrapped up in muscle and bone,who are more miracle than mistake.i think about that a lot when i look at her.to be fair, she is nothing more than me and youbut she has a hurricane brewing in her eyesand dandelions growing through the cracksin her sidewalks and i think that’s wondrousenough.i know our lungs are the same—on mondaysand thursdays, we both find it hard to keepbreathing and sometimes if i listen hard enoughi think i can hear the storms battering her shoreline,but you could never tell with the way she smiles.don’t tell her, but she smiles like the sun.she smiles crooked, like baby teeth and moralsand the first time you try to hang up a sign.god, she sm
Yes, I Have a PenisYes, I Have A PenisDo not assume (if I hold the door for you),that I am making a statementabout your inabilitiesto open the door for yourself.If you hold it for me,I'll say 'thankyou'.Do not assume (if I pay for the meal),that I am underestimatingyour earning capacityas a woman.If you invite me out for a meal,you're paying.Do not assume (if I defend your rights),that I am belittlingthe attempts that you have madeto defend your rights yourself.If you defend my rights,I'll consider you human.
WiccaWe are Wicca,We are not evil.We are hunted and burned by the church,Because we are different,Not in appearance,But in our beliefs.Our ways are different,Our minds are too,And because we dont follow one god blindly,We are burnt alive,Burnt for something we didnt do.They called us heretics,Witches and whores.Burnt at the stake for no faith in their lord.They call us evil when they burn us alive.They drown our children to see if they were right,If our children sink,Then they were good,But if they were to rise,To death is where they go.The church is our enemy,From no fault of our own.They hate our gods and goddesses,Because our gods are not their own.
Insanity needs companyand now I’m stuck here,pondering,how the walls becamea veiny sight-(could the cause be me calling outyour namein the middle of the night?)and alone I stand here,wondering,how my feet gotnailed upon this floor-(do you hold my ankleslike an anchordoes the shore?)and I know it’s been thirteen yearssince you were here at all,according to the hash markscarved uponthe wooden wallbut I can’tlet goof our memories,that hauntme everydayso for now,I’ll let the doc declare: Insanity needs company.
How to love a girl who can't love herself.one. When she cries herself to sleep six out of seven nights a week you must say nothing. You must simply take her in your arms and kiss her gaunt, pale cheeks and wait for her to slumber at the sound of your heart.two. On the days where she wishes she were part of the stars, tell her no. Tell her that there are too many lights in the sky and that just one would be forgotten the moment you looked away from it. Tell her that she is perfect the way she is: completely human.three. Don't let her think about the scars that no one but her can see. If she says "I think I'm broken" smile like you know a secret and say, "No, you're mending." But do not be the one to fix her - no, she
Roses and CoffeeMasarm takes his coffee blacklike the collar of his favourite shirtand the shadow of childhood;Sally tempers the tartness of tastewith salt and sugar-crustedpetals of roses in her cup.When he's angry, Masarmburns fiercely, a broodingthat bites only himself, and Sally,when she's angry, spitsacid and flings platesthat shatter over his head.Still, somehow it's always Masarmwho sends flowers; Masarmwho swallows down the bitterness.
Rhyming in PoemsWhy do you all want to rhymeall the time?You don't need to do it,that's perfectly fine.You think it's so coolAnd it leaves poems gleaming,But it desecrates flowAnd can ruin the meaning.It's so bad to rhythm,It's like a bad dayYou wonder why you're notSleeping it away.You think it's the rootOf your writing's salvation,But we all will hate you,All parts of the nation.You think it sounds niceBut you don't even knowHow ruined the sound isHow badly it 'goes'.So the irony's over,Your poems can mend,I'll stop myself here,Before you meetYour end.
UnusualUp to datewith crossing outnumbers.