please her if you please.

Oh i see how his life resembles
Yours and you somehow are like him.
I see i know i've been too good for you
You know you know that he is just like me
Pleasing you and now,and now all
You do is wish i was more and more like him
If so would you consider keeping me
Closer if so, i know if i was more and more like him
If so would you consider keeping me closer
I know i know if i was more and more like him if so.


-a cure.

no one belongs here more then you

waiting for the days thoughtless, tactless ideologies to drain 

along with my dead hairs & that which i shave,

starving for an extra minute under water,

to physically rinse the film that outside 

has left upon my skin.

drowning in the street filled with heavy heads, hearts and bad,

bodies that brawl, contend, & speak with discretion

I am only at home, under the shower head

where warmth is a lover and everything just appears 

prettier

for only, about, fifteen minutes.

the razor-blade-way is far too cliche so I towel dry,

usually.

won't cook in this kitchen.

constantly hindered by what I could be, when I could be learning to cook in a kitchen I'd rather pose for photos in.

letting small talk dig into my sides like a stitch when you're not in shape.

I'm cooler then him, I'm bigger then her.

I'm stuck here, behind the jewelry counter, being hit on by security 

selling three-thousand dollar necklaces to rich white woman who comment on the size of my eyes,

the cut of my hair,

jiving until I shut my lids in public's view, to ponder why I'm no longer creating,

writing,

critically thinking, 

I let the noise flood over me, just drowning in the midst of an art piece

cryptic & cynical, these are too crucial traits for a spot in this Gallery,

for a spot in the heart of this man

for a mind like mine.

delicious sound.

people are strange.

otherwordly, abnormal, eldritch, unusual, peculiar, odd, puzzling, outlandish, zany, offbeat, unconventional, different, bizarre, anomalous. 

i like you.

stranger than loving the strangest of the strange.

decay.

                    

Miny molecules fell light like lightening from her cupped hands, only, I noticed them and without thinking, began to ask questions.

Her, the stranger, held her withered skin out to show him, and I, We, continued to eat our ramen and edamame with slight disdain. Then, she parted her lips, and

her guts began to cover the floor with filth. After hours of quiet tidying to keep everything neat, it'd be a mess, yet again.

Her, the stranger, distraught, preformed for us by the making of a bed she would later lie in.

Grizzly Man mumbled at us, majestic and true to a form he was certain he belonged to.  I could not decide which way to place my gaze,

this whole evening had been erie, 

I had an ex alcoholic mad man screaming from a collapsed tent, an ex meth addict holding my hand and a suicidal HER ripping up the floorboards while screeching.

The scene was like finding the feet of a dead body and being thankful you didn't find the face, first.

"why do i dream so often

 of his body when

 his body will decay

 his flesh will be fluorescent grey"

*p-o-p*

MJ custom made Velo-Couture 
http://wiptclothing.blogspot.com/
<3

VS

man VS beast
women VS men
predator VS prey
stealth VS sharp
will VS won't
love VS hate




come, home, please.
sweet birdy.
my darling,
i promise, i won't bite.

half of me.

I listen closely to the faint call of a train from my balcony, I'm sure the tracks are closer then I'm aware.  Karen O and the kids are humming through the soft whistle of it's horn.   I'm preoccupied, cutting an over-ripe avocado and watching it fade to dusk with the door just slightly cracked.
Today, I've spent reflecting.


Unbelievably warm November afternoon, I perched myself with a coffee and Sagan admits this autumns dying, blade-like leaves. In front of four boys walking tightrope, I lost myself in the wit and humor of an eighteen year old virtuoso and her seventeen year old protagonist.  I find it difficult to admire those younger than me,  I read on, admirably so.   It was unusually dreary.  Around this time of year it can become impossible to tell the hour of day, so one could not recall how long I sat there.  I rarely looked up from the novel, finding absolute parallels in Sagan's words and my thoughts over the course of these last seven sundowns.


Dissecting the mechanisms of human emotion and involvement in one another's lives has been the focus of almost all thought lately.  I have become so baffled with the concept of both love, and desire.   Poisoned and ridden by the ideas of inadequacy, disbelief and inability to ever love or involve myself with another person truly.  I float around more content to be alone then with anyone I know.
But, I know I love, and am loved, greatly and deeply.
I have become enchanted with the idea that all love is purely fleeting, that co-existing is temporarily amusing and that I am capably of neither.  
I have found love to be treacherous, and distracting.  I constantly envelop myself in my love and forget the outside world.  It drives me to be impulsive and hasty.
My conflict comes from a deep place, self destructive one would say.  I have all that I want and feel the need to over-analyze and underwhelm.  I can't say my love is perfection, I can't say it's close to normal, it's stable or comfortable.  I have never loved a man who could be my protecter, as I usually take on this role.
Why, in these low points, should I agree to be monogamous and linear.  Why shouldn't I revolt and allow myself to be free of something I am constantly coddling?
Contradictory as this may seem, I have only been reflecting.


I made an incredibly large salad.  Instead of finishing it while I wrote, I became nauseated with the idea of eating dinner alone.  These things, take time.

drunk at home.

seeking:

today: 

the perpetual fly
rub eye
pumpkin chai
a conversation for lunatics
fish & chips, but I've had better
awkward encounters
yogurt-covered pretzels
stoned speak
screaming girl Indian screams, nonsense
bike cops all-a-glow in yellow
hail storm
gutted floor
afternoon smoke
transit aches
hat box breaks
slimy salsa & cream cheese
struggling steps
home before sunset
crying onions while cutting
lentil soup & gin drinks
delicious things
bad dreams
continuously, seeking.

a lady named bunny.

There are generally two sides to every story: 


Overdressed or Underdressed.
Overwhelmed or Underwhelmed.
Overexposed or Underexposed.


  All parties were present in the unraveling of events that occurred this halloween.
Dressed clad as my biggest fear, my face mocked itself every time I came across a mirror.  I was doomed, I thought, licking MDMA off a plate which I used to eat on every other weekday. Anxiety would ensue as I came across whiskers, a pointed pink nose and the distinctive ears that a rabbit holds.
Alex painted his face thick with white, immediately washing it off,  then proceeded to offer me a Klonopin. A drug to wash the former drug down with.
Russ paraded around pant-less, attempting to imitate Tom Cruise's moves in his prime.  
We all agreed they both looked adorably prepubescent.


Carrying the Champagne bottle, Jackie O and I hobbled, Russ lit his cigarette indoors and we screamed to a taxi without knowing the address of the Ghost Dance.
Nestled on Cheery Street, we gathered our accessories and frolicked into a room filled to the brim with Jellyfish, Monsters, Marionettes, Bloody Battered Women and an ancient Chinese Dragon, who later attempted to devour Jonathan.


Spinning through self-pity, drunken haze and full blown energy, I danced to my hearts content floating over the channel. High, staring coyly into the eyes of my very own Yip Yip, as he hid his headphones beneath the felt.
A backsplash of white canvas's, reflecting perfectly selected beams of light gleaming coquettishly.  Another bunny, with blood covering his face, haunted me for the rest of the evening.
With my partners in crime off to bed, I was on my lonesome once again.  Running into an enemy I call friend who's eyebrows were thicker then Cool Whip on cake.  I greeted her with glee which I always blame on the E. 
"Please, stop trying to steal my boyfriend, he wants me" 
When my monster returned, we kissed silently beneath his fur and cooed, in love with the things we could become, thus, became. 


The magic of the evening wore off after swallowing it in the bathroom.
I kindly removed my mask, soaking in the last of the water ripples, wobbling to the bass.
We headed home to a new space, as new beginnings began yesterday,
and continues to both confuse and excite today.




photo credit: Russless.