I've got to say...

I've had a few drinks.
Also, I don't know how I feel about Blogger.  I've had a LiveJournal for a really, REALLY long time, and I'm just so used to it.  (Lame, I know.  Who uses LiveJournal these days???)

I don't know.  I really want a creative outlet.  I want a place where I can post the whole TRUNK of poetry I have written over the past 10 years.  Maybe it's here.  Maybe I just need to give it more of a chance.

I've got the summer off to think about it.  I want to figure some things out, start a few projects... get creative.  It's been a long time since I've had that kind of freedom. 

Dude, let's go get lit and jump off the roof of my house

Yesterday was spent vomiting for approximately 12 hours.  I lost an entire day that I needed to do homework, and today instead of busting ass like I should, I'm watching Orange County and painting my fingernails.

Always and forever, my own worst enemy.

Where I want to be:

Second-hand love

she watches the smoke lift
its carried away,
drifting away,
like her heart
floating farther from her
with each breath
he's drowning in the dirty air
unaware-
he's got to be everything.
with a cough,
he's choking on my unspoken
expectations,
but just mistakes it for
cigarette residue.
second-hand love.

[i am dirty,
used,
and broken.
but i am yours.]

Grandma

 My grandmother's name is Helen.  She is now bed-ridden with complications from Alzheimer's.

the air is thick with the rotting stench of years long past-
this place hasn't changed in a decade.
you wouldn't have wanted to see things this way,
it wasn't your style,
letting your world get old, and
stale.
every day was a new idea for a grander and more
beautiful existence.
you were always the glamorous one,
the stand out kind,
the artist, the designer,
the lady who wore the big, fancy hats
in a sea full of clones.
i always wanted to be as fearless as you
someday.
i recall late nights,
long talks as you
brushed my hair until it shone,
early Saturday mornings that always
promised the best biscuits and gravy this world will
ever know,
you, paintbrush in hand,
teaching me about creativity...
now,
i see you lying,
motionless,
and i know,
i've already said my goodbyes.
that past died the day you forgot my name.
but once in a while,
you turn to face me
and i think i see the remains of that old spirit-
and i hope, above all else,
today,
you can see that same spirit
reflected in my eyes.

It's like a different world.

After an absolutely disgusting day yesterday, today it's 70 degrees and sunny in Tennessee.

Amazing.

I am definitely a creature of the sun. 

It's Thursday, which is the start of my weekend.  I'm not feeling so sick, so that means I can resume my drinking.  I can't stand to be around myself sober these days.  My anxiety is taking over.

The New Year

time to become something new
clean and reborn under the stars
you don't see them clearly,
but they illuminate my new,
blank canvas like a
pale morning sun.
we're clasping hands and
smashing eager, hungry lips together-
desperate for that closeness,
desperate to feel needed when
we both feel so inadequate these days.
you're thirsting to prove yourself,
I'm writhing in the prison of
my own skin.
but for a moment-
we are transformed.
complete in this mutal madness.
a lust that's carried us through the years.
lying dormant for days, weeks as
we fight with our own self-loathing,
growing, building, pushing
exploding
into a night of redemption.
your eyes on me- amazed, wanting-
reminds me who i am.
makes me something new.

This time of year...

This time of year...
Makes me sick.
Literally, and in the head.  I'm ready for hot days, warm nights, tank tops, and flip flops.

It's raining.  I've got the flu and so much homework.