March 28, 2006


Every Tuesday is like the come down. I can’t find anything good there as I lose the feeling of the weekend, of the boy, of the love. I find myself wishing to be napping and sleeping with him. His arms wrapped around me, covered in sheets, heavy sleep induced breathing. Each week I count the days, count the hours to when I can find myself there again in the sweltering that my weekends have become. Things should be easier, I shouldn’t put myself in these long distance situations but each year, each semester, there I am running into open arms so far away where I don’t have to think, where everything is done for me, where my hand is held and all I have to do is smile. Too easy but perfect. Lost and coming down I find my Tuesdays, lost and coming down off the drug that is love or the build up to love and as Thursday approaches my high once again ignites.

March 24, 2006

invited on a trip this summer by a boy i feel i barely know

I can see myself cackling into the night, eyes ablaze with the burn of liquor. Running towards stars and trees, running from love and pushing towards it. Foreign starry skies to be my future with hands to hold, I don’t trust that my sanity front could last through this point, this kind of trip. So I imagine, I foreshadow, a vision of myself cackling and yelling nonsense with the stench of heaters and alcohol on my breath. I can see their eyes, how their reactions would be similar to those that looked upon witches on trial, confusion and detachment. I’d lose them, lose him right there under starry foreign skies, from jealousy, from neediness, from cackling and naughty wondering fingers. I’d lose it all and I’d be left laughing at the inside joke that no one else gets that is my life, ha ha laughing now at the horrific future I have dreamt of, dream of.

March 14, 2006


Tears streaming down my face mid-workout. Clowns to the left of me and jokers to the right streams outs of my lowly computer speakers. I lie back on the floor, continue tears, reach for paper and phone to write needy text messages and written words, as Tina isn’t missing you at all. I wish it were that easy that I could stop this heartbreak overload. The storm is raging through each night through my head and my dreams, where I find myself lost in my own home. Childhood smells of playground sand and plastic slides bring back memories of loneliness. When did this all start? Who let it continue? Or was I just that good at hiding it? Another reach, another call to no avail, no answer. A check up when what I really need is a check in or a check out. The salt is drying on my face. Back to nothing I go back to nothing hi ho!

March 09, 2006

he's a few of my favoite things

He’s like splashing into a cool pool on a sweltering day, he’s like finding socks from the night before in your bed when your feet are freezing, he’s like a Christmas wreath made of gift bows, he’s like waking up to warm kisses, he’s the blue glow of the TV on closed eyelids, he’s like a frozen pineapple whip, he’s the third grade stutter, he cant wait to see me, he’s the taste of salt and cologne, He’s like wool tights on a windy day, he’s like my first pair of pink Pointe shoes, he’s like coarse ground pepper, he’s like the sound of a metal bat hitting a baseball, he’s calloused hands, he’s like a snow cone made from Baileys and real snow, he’s like pumpkin season, he’s like somersaults and cartwheels inside, he’s big lips and bad taste, he’s like a field full of daffodils, he’s like listening to slow jams on the radio late at night, he endures my failures and shortcomings, he’s like crunchy taquitos and messed up hair, he’s the feeling you get in your stomach on the pirate ship rollercoaster, he’s like getting off an airplane, he’s the samba, he’s like rocky road ice cream or meatloaf, he’s like the first line, he’s like a good Halloween costume, he’s like nothing and everything at the same time, he’s the dolphin you see the in clouds, he’s fresh sea air, fuck he’s the love flavored cigarette……..don’t let it be not now, not yet.

March 01, 2006


It had been blooming in her mind, in her heart. A small bloom that she was resisting, that she was trying to storm on. but this bloom was resilient more resilient then the storm and fury she was trying to create, trying to drum up. Everyone else could see it, this perfect bud blooming from the inside out each petal opening with glistening silk skin.

They had gone downtown together, the small bud held inside her as she stumbled down the cobblestone in copper heels, her head heavy from a day of fierce grape concoctions and baseball pants. Her eyes glossy, she tried to pick a place. Within the glass doors of the North Beach Restaurant he held her close, seeing glaring eyes. Kisses plagued her neck while they waited for a table. The bloom bloomed. They were a story, a tale in the making.

Back in the car they bumped along throughout the city to bad hip hop that they knew all the words to. While he held her hands, kissed fingers and the bloom bloomed. It was becoming too much and yet never enough.

He would fall asleep on her chest beer bottle in hand, to Penny cartoons saying he wasn’t sleeping just thinking with his eyes closed. This would be dreaming, sleep and dreaming and she didn’t mind that it was her heart keeping time in his dreams. This would be a night to remember and also a night that would be forgotten in coming weeks, coming months. But the bloom will continue to bloom until each petal has fallen and somewhere someone will be a beast, a monster, forever. Unless of course this beast, this monster finds true, real love.