January 31, 2006

first week back at school

As I sit in class my mind wanders, staring outside doesn’t dull it, which is my usual antidote to the lull that is lecture. The fog consumes me and my mind turns to dreams and creams. Milk shakes, banana milkshakes and blue, green, pink cotton candy that dyes your fingers, my fingers, while I dream of the personal male Moulin Rouge that is baseball games, a pair of baseball pants and I’m speechless. I can’t take notes on what Pop. Culture is because my craving for tobacco and nicotine has taken over since I stopping the drinking of the Holiday break and the pop of my gum is the only thing keeping me from reaching into the worn track jacket of the red head in front of me to steal his Marlboros. So I sit popping and pushing, pushing my bruises so that I can feel the pain that you spoke of, that took your mind away from learning.

Sitting on the side of the bathtub waiting for the bubbles to consume me waiting for steaming water to soothe away the pain from the re-pushed bruises and the eternal broken heart that has spoken out in the from of bruised ribs. It hurts to breathe, it hurts to think. Maybe I shouldn’t wrestle boys when I’ve drunken a bottle of red to myself or otherwise.

January 29, 2006

Jokers to the right

I wonder if my tired eyes reflect all the pain or if I just look tired. Radio waves and songs pulse through my veins and arteries. I cry to the tune of When a Man Loves a Woman and shower to Earth Angel as I search desperately through dreams and strange beds to find my own angel, but as I rub their backs so they may sleep there is nothing near the remnants of wings and most would never dare wear a halo. So I steal another moment, another shining star in unfamiliar lips so that I may continue breathing and continue lying to myself about how bad it doesn’t hurt when someone else is holding me together. “There’s nothing wrong with me loving you.” At least the sweet and wonderful life continues even when I can’t face the daylight that builds muscles on my legs and blondes my hair. Once again left searching, dancing, running, writing for something familiar or totally new so that I can remember nothing and make new memories to the tunes of Al Green and Steeler’s Wheel.

January 25, 2006

one good day

Nepenthe on a winters day that I can wear a t-shirt and jeans. Drive all the way down the coast for a glass of wine and three-way salad when all I want is a three-way as if it will give some meaning to this meaningless heart wrenching, Christmas eve crying break. I won’t, in fact it couldn’t. So I return to the car dessert-less, deserted to Shoobie do wop wop and Blue moon playing on the radio, to write about perfection, a perfect happy, and the sea was shining as small waves passed for whale spouts. I was too ashamed to use my crap digital camera for the man next to me had a vintagely beautiful camera. The couple next to me was drinking too much to wine to the point that he was professing his love and she was responding with the fact that one side of her neck was much tighter then the other. Wine maybe an aphrodisiac but it doesn’t make you stupid, if any thing it spurns and spurs creativity.

Lets get out of here before it gets dark and the magic begins and the illusion continues.

“ If I know its fire why do I let it burn my hand?”

January 22, 2006

windy roads

Sometimes you just need to follow the lion the witch and the wardrobe. I never did see her face but the twists in the road undid the knots in my stomach and straightened my hair. Things were shining and as much as I thought of him I was starting to forget what he meant any more. I pushed him and pulled him to the point that he turned his back on me and jumped off the metaphorical bridge that our relationship had become. I drove over the bridge to look over the edge to see him there flaying and floating below, and maybe I pushed him to this point, so I laugh because it maybe my fault that my love is drowning. Easy enough, run to someone else who is quick to turn his back and jump from the same bridge.

January 19, 2006


Oh the twists and turns a vacation will take you. Expect the unexpected, but then what am I to expect? What am I expecting? She comes like a tornado, a tornado like you’ve never seen before, you don’t know the next turn and the inner turmoil is unfathomable until you can get to the calmest center. I’ll never forget that mirror, I never left the validity but I also never looked back in the mirror. I couldn’t take it, see myself, couldn’t see who the reflection was anymore. So there I was breaking my heart, seven years bad luck, breaking my heart, breaking the mirror. I’d like to tattoo a broken mirror on my whole body. Breaker, heart breaker, addicted to love. Oh to end the breaking, mine, theirs, hers, the looks of hurt are beyond the importance and its snowing, angels, hearts, snow balls and angels.

January 12, 2006


I slept for hours 11 of them and woke up to bi lingual cartoons and paper bag crinkling. The sounds of my home, I couldn’t tell if it was my mother or my father, their love has deepened to the point of one sound. I turned on the computer to catch the newness of blogs and otherwise, the icons jumping for attention as they clue in, there was nothing, do I not read enough? Do I not write enough? The pictures tell my recent tale, I drink enough. The cleaning lady shows, I wish I could close my door with my mind instead my mother comes into to take a nap while they clean the rest of the house, I turn off my secret friend and watch unsolved mysteries. It used to scare me as a child but I was addicted at an early age and now I try to catch to episodes between classes and in the hot comfort of my home bed. Through her snoring I read my book of angels and teacup hearts while Robert Stack’s familiar voice narrated tragedies. My book brings new freedom, I want to dance more, to those songs I downloaded but have never heard of, they must have some kind of dancing worthy meaning, I want to go on a run and spin in circles with my face turned towards the sun. Choosing happiness because I can’t have everything I want, molding what I’ve got and saying I love you to friends who matter. She caught me off guard and I had to ask her to repeat herself, “I love you” and she laughed, I reciprocated. They are surprising me but they aren’t going away, they aren’t trading me in for an older version of myself and I am slowly finding solace in the fact that they are my friends when I feel like I have none.

January 10, 2006


I need songs with so much screaming meaning I cant hear them, I need endless roads with views and cliffs, I need bright days with scalding sun, I need hungry lips with no attachment, I need feather beds with piles of heavy blankets, I need the blue flashing of television in my dreams, I need a warm chest and butterflies in my stomach, I need to dance and run so fast no one can catch me, I need phone calls that end in tears, I need smiles and hugs more then I need those tears, I need books that talk of the city of angels, I need direction with out pushing and I need to find someone, myself.

January 06, 2006


As I stare out the window the world has become upside down just like the way I feel. The stars are on the ground, the lights that light the cities look like stars and I feel like the contents of an emptied purse, scattered, torn and broken. Holding on to everything that has let me go and let me down and running from anyone with open arms. I can see my faults they are plain as a vanilla milkshake, my cuts do not heal and I feel sinister and not holy at all. I want to run away on roller skates and never return to anything familiar. I’ve been reading books about drug addicts and I feel like I’m coming down off their drugs so slowly and so slowly. I find myself writing the way I dance, in the car when I choreograph to songs on the radio that I don’t know the words to, I use repetition for emphasis for memory logging as my memory comes and goes I can only imagine those watching, those reading need the repetition as much as I feel I do.

January 03, 2006

i should be dying for someones sins

Last night I got extremely drunk because it was the ex’s birthday and his new lady friend was having a party for him. I sent him a couple suggestive text messages in both Spanish and English, knowing she would read them, she called my cell phone when he wasn’t around and left some kind of message saying not to call him anymore or write him text messages, so I called her back and she got extremely angry saying that she has a son and her mother was in town, oh yeah shes 41 and hes 23 and it was much too late to be calling and I apologized kindly and said I was under the impression you wanted me to call you back. Then she started to get a nasty to me about not calling him anymore and how they were all laughing at my text messages so I proceded to ask her if she liked the fact that she was twice everyones age there, I don’t think that got a response so then I asked her how it is having fake tits and fake hair? She hung up after that, but really I am skeptical of a woman who hangs out with people 20 years younger then her, however if she hangs out with the ex she must be pretty cool because he is but she sounds crazy to me, taking my number out of his phone, monitoring his calls and text messages. Anyway on to me being crazy… so after the phone call I decided I wanted to go to this club in Miami called the opium garden so we walked about 10 blocks and never found it, this made my other ex boyfriend who I am here with very angry then when we were walking back I started pulling on all the door handles of the parked cars, he didn’t like that either. At some point he left and I wanted to get on a tractor that was doing some remodeling, I really wanted to steal a vehicle in my drunkenness, I guess climbing over the fence I cut my hand, it looked like a stigmata to me and I desperately needed the other side cut to match but had no knife I asked about every person we passed if they had a knife, not one admitted to it if they did so then I decided next best thing; ill burn it with a cigarette the waiter gave me, its didn’t really work there is only a small mark there now, so then I found a bottle and broke it and tried to cut myself on that while I was on the phone getting details about that woman from my old roommate who went to the “party”. I really wanted this stigmata thing, im not really sure why but I only have half a stigmata now which I just silly, I even tried to show the cab driver that I was jesus, then we got home all of us were in a huge fight I poured alcohol on my cut and the guy im here with started crying cause he loves me or something, all in all the evening was awful, awfully drunk.