Dirty Leaves

i want to fall
and run far
far away from it all
then fall--
once more
into your open arms

i want to get lost
and be found again
get lost,
go around and then--
stop,
when i feel the warmth of your hands

and your touch--
it's almost too much
i'm dizzy
and spinning
thinking,
your touch
is just like being kissed by the sun

and it's just us
in the middle of nowhere
our private playground of somewhere
us--
with no room for worry or sorrow
i can and will do that tomorrow
while i'm picking the dirty leaves out of my hair

Flashback

i can remember the day,
the hour,
right down to the moment
that i got caught up and I fell
off the sparkly pink unicorn on life's carousel
and how i went
and i spent
my last fifty cents
dropping all my dirty pennies into a wishing well
hoping to find
a flashing neon sign
that will show me the way
out of my bulletproof shell
then you happened by
dropped out of the sky and into my life
burned white
like heaven shining light in my dark little hell
but my mind neverminds
and never buys
what my heart tries so hard to sell
magic
trickery
bullshit and spells
and when the world finally stops
i turn and i run
like being shot from a gun
back to my mind's prison cell
where i'm safe,
complacent,
and lazy
with memories never hazy
and yes.... i might just be crazy
but really who can ever truly tell????

Illusory

I have nightmares to make you giggle
and dreams you could never understand
like drinking up the sun
or holding fire in my hands

of being torn or sliced
into a thousand tiny pieces
or being teased and raped
by all your crazy demons

of drowning in the noise
just to be petrified by the silence
or sinking to the bottom
in an ocean filled with violence

of dancing naked on the moon
with rock n roll ghosts from outer space
or looking in the mirror
and for once, not seeing the devil's face

of writing lyrics to a song
with nothing but the color blue
or solving all the mysteries of life
like knowing every part of you

of painting all your walls
with every drop of my red blood
or shoving my heart down your throat
and choking you with my love

I have nightmares that make your shiver
and dreams you just might understand
like squeezing life out of the blazing sun
or holding your heart inside my hands

Last Will

My heart will always beat too fast
because it's scared of the slow down

I will hold my breath
because I'm thrown by the exhale

I will keep the white noise
because it drowns out the sound of my own voice

I will pay attention to detail
to shift my focus elsewhere

Your pain and your story
will always be more interesting than mine

I will collect pretty words
because I don't feel pretty at all

I will let you in
because I want you to test my limits

And you will validate me
because I'll let you push my buttons

I will toss you bits and pieces
because I am broken

I won't finish anything
because I don't know where to start

I will get in my own way
all the time, every time

I can't leave you alone
because then you'll be lonely

I will throw myself at you
because I've been thrown away

You will have all my love
because I don't need any for myself




(Trying to get over a severe case of writer's block here...I don't know what I'm so afraid of. It shouldn't be this hard to listen to yourself. Here's hoping this unlocks some doors.)

Drowning Out

We were riding together
to somewhere
I don't remember where
to some place
to a place you wanted to go
I'm sure
I was driving
I was always driving
Because you were always drinking
or
always going to be drinking
So
I was driving
You were riding
And we were headed somewhere

And I asked you
if I could listen to some music
You said you didn't care
I told you this was my favorite song

I didn't need your approval
I didn't expect you to sing along
All you had to do
was
acknowledge it
acknowledge me
sit quietly
and
listen

But
instead
you reached over
pushed the button
and turned it off

Turned me off

And you said
something
about
how you just couldn't stand
listening
to that shit
anymore

And
yet
you kept talking
and talking
and talking
and wondering
why I was being so quiet

I'm listening

Until
I reach over
and push the button
turn the music back on

I can't stand listening to your shit anymore

Why
couldn't you
just
let
me
sing?

And

We are still riding
somewhere

I'm still driving
I'm still singing
You're still talking
You're still drinking
We're still riding
And we're headed
straight
for nowhere

The Day I Gave My Soul To A New Religion...

Lately, I've...wait, let me start again. Last year, I...what the hell am I trying to say here? So, it all started when I bought these tickets to this festival on a beach in Pensacola to see this one particular band that I (we) thought we would apparently never get to see live again in our lifetime. I mean, why else would we drive 6 + hours on a work day, on a school day to spend the night only to get up to sit all damn day on a hot sandy ass beach in the middle of October? You might have heard of the band, 30 Seconds To Mars? Uh huh, I thought so. And if not, you should check em out. And if you have, and you don't like them, well, whatever. So, that's how this all started. Now that you are filled in on the backstory, lemme get to the point here. This festival had a 3 day lineup filled with all sorts of bands, 90% of which I'd never heard of. I'd be hard pressed to name some of them for you now, but I'll give it a shot...hmmm...nope...wait, Michael Franti and Spearhead? Does that sound right? Maybe. Also on the bill, Bush (I know, right? What the fuckin hell?), 311, and Stone Temple Pilots. Okay. Whatever. That's nice. That's swell. Like I mentioned earlier, we didn't care about anyone but 30STM. Except...one night, while trying to get all hyped up for this festival, I decided to check out other bands. I mean, what could it hurt? I might actually like one or two of them actually. Enter---BLACK REBEL MOTORCYCLE CLUB. My life has been forever changed. And to understand how my life has been forever changed, you just need to know that I refuse to remember how my life was before I was turned on to the music of Robert Been and Peter Hayes. How did I managed to miss this band that has been around since the beginning of the damn decade? Anyhow, all of that doesn't matter for shit now because this band's music has become such a huge part of my life that I don't know if I could breathe without it. And if I could (and yes I know I could, really) I don't think I would want to. Ever.

Did I tell you that we went on to see BRMC live that Saturday? An hour long set of a band that was too fucking cool for the daylight, let alone a beach, let alone flying beachballs. I rocked my face off. Stood up on the metal barricades trying just to be a few inches taller so I could see over the VIPs. Trying not to be that chick that would scream "woooooohooooo eeeeeeeeeeeehh yeahhhh wooooo" after every song, but I was hopelessly hopeless and was so much that chick that I had to bite my knuckles just to keep my mouth shut. I remember, there was this lady behind and to the side of us that watched (with her eyes closed) the whole BRMC set with a drink in one hand and her other arm skyward just kind of swinging, swaying there, if you will. Back then, on that day, I thought she was too drunk for 3 in the afternoon, for a hot sandy ass beach, for a crowd that was only gonna get bigger. But now, I completely understand.

BRMC is a way of life. BRMC is an addiction, an affliction. BRMC is a family, and a moving experience. The only people who understand the way BRMC can move you are the people who are moved by BRMC.

Who knows when I'll get to see them again....might be next month or next year, but I know, that when I do, I'll close my eyes, raise my hands to sky, and sway. That is, when I'm not being that crazy knuckle-biter screamer dreamer that I am.



p.s. We hung in to see 30STM on that night, but the beach defeated us. The crowd won. The VIPs won. We barely made it out with just our flipflops and our lives, but that's okay. If we'd just been a little more patient or a little more psychic, we would have known that come January we would get to see that band again in Atlanta at the comfy confines of The Tabernacle. But....if we would have known that we probably would have skipped out on DeSucka Fest and missed ever discovering BRMC, and I'm not even gonna think about that, because I can't. I don't remember anything before BRMC, and that's just the way it should be.

Acting out

"Be real for once in your life."

"Okay, but only if I can fake it!"

Collage

I've got issues serious issues not the subscription kind more like the prescription kind but I don't take pills mainly because I don't have a prescription and I don't read but I keep the magazines just for the pictures and I cut them out sometimes, well not, really, but once I did and it turned out kind of nice and pretty and I had fun doing that and it kept my mind occupied and my brain focused and at the same time it allowed me to be totally free from any and all boundaries and rules because that's kind of what a collage is, just a big hot mess of stuff, all glued together to be one big picture, and you don't always get the right piece in the right place, so you just add more glue or you add more glitter or you find another word or another photo or whatever, maybe it's a butterfly or a heart that needs to go there, and sometimes the glue runs, and it kind of hurts a little, because you can't do anything about it, it's in my nature to want to fix it, it needs to be fixed, it should be fixed, except that it can't be fixed, accept that it can't be fixed, and just accept it for what it is, so you laugh it off, and you turn it into a joke, or an emo teardrop is what I called it, and it was okay, though it still bothered me, it did, and yeah, I'm stalling because I don't know how to start this, or stop this, and I figured that it was in my best interest to just let this thing go where it wanted and not be bound and gagged though gagging is what I feel like doing right now why in the world would writing something that makes no sense or no difference it can't really do anything make me feel this sick to my stomach I don't know why or how I got to this point anyway wasn't it just yesterday and wasn't tomorrow supposed to be the day and wasn't today supposed to be the best day and when did it all turn or maybe it never did maybe nothing happened at all and it was all a big dreamy dream of a life that I made up in mind that I never could decide on that I never could pick for myself someone always has to choose for me because I suck at decision making and I suck at choosing and I'm scared of being wrong and I'm scared that I will hurt feelings possibly your feelings and I don't want that responsibility and I don't want that and I never knew I've never known how or what or where or when or who or any answer but yet I know that sometimes it doesn't matter if you know the answers if you don't know what the question is have you ever thought about that how we spend our whole lives and yes I am speaking to you like we're friends or family or partners mainly because I would like to think that we are all looking for the same thing on the journey to that thing that one thing that elusive incredible amazing thing but my problem is that I have never known what I was supposed to be looking for because heaven knows I never looked to myself or at myself for that matter shudder at the thought for answers to anything I shake my head now and my hands shake now at the thought of thinking about myself and how mucked up my head is and the stupid things that I do think about when I think are mainly just a distraction from thinking about the things that I really should be thinking about and I will give you an example like how I don't have anything to wear to a funeral seriously who thinks about stuff like that or how I haven't had my hair done by actual hairstylist with an actual license in over 20 years because I don't know what I want her to do with it or what I should expect her to do with it or maybe it's because I don't want to sit down and look at myself in her big mirror or do that small talk chitter chatter that all hair do'ers want to do when you sit down and become their prisoner but mainly I just don't think it matters I guess because I'm resigned to the fact that my hair will always be flat and oily and it won't do what I want it to, oh well, we all can't have great hair or great anything, big lips and bigger boobs, tiny feet, and mucked up everything else is what I got, nothing special and nothing I want to dwell on, ewwwh, ewwwh, ewwwh, I'm so tense because I got so mad the other day and so pissed at myself because I let myself be made all sad and wah wah depressed by someone, him and maybe one damn day I will learn to disregard him the same way he disregards me but that also pisses me off because I don't want to be like that but why why why why do I want to be better than that because it's too damn easy to be like everyone else or maybe it's not because fuck me I can't seem to do it, yes, yes, yes I will, what more do you want me to do because I will gladly do that too, sure do I get extra points for all my asskissing and just plain throwing myself at you, putting myself out there time after time maybe because I safely know that as long as I throw myself under your crazy train, I don't risk getting picked up by some psycho killer who has a thing for lost little girls wandering around aimlessly up and down the tracks, or maybe it's just because I don't know what I would say if I ran into someone at the station who just wanted to have a "normal" conversation with me, what, like anything about me is normal, hardly, wait, yes, of course I am, it's time, it's past time, it's way past my bedtime and I need to figure this out my way out of here, it's a maze, amazingly I know that I haven't moved at all, what am I waiting for, for you to not call, for you to call, for it to repeat again, what the hell am I waiting for, your permission, absolution, what, what, what, and what do I want, where do I want to go, does it even matter, what if I can't figure it out, I will figure it out and I will fix it because it has to be fixed, it has to be fixed, I just need to remove, rearrange the pieces and buy more glue and sprinkle more glitter and put my heart right there, no, no, wait, right here.

great expectations

ultimately, in the end
just for selfish pleasure
we end up doing the one thing
we always said
we'd "never"

Like I have that many lies to waste
or that much time to spill
to kill
yeah, there, I said it it
what you never could
what you never would
oh but wait
just for minute
just let me spin it
you did
and I didn't
or I did
and you didn't
or we did
or we didn't
and it never mattered
and we never should have bothered
bothered the rest
the best
most of the people
with our craziness
our lameness
ours
I mean..
mine
I meant..
yours
There, I said it
this never should have
this never could have
this never would have
this never
this what
this ever
after
never
ever
again
except it did
and it will
and it won't
and it can't
but I can't
I mean you can't
I mean we can't
never
ever
break our hearts
unitl it stops
or it never starts
I mean stops
forever
and ever
and never
ever
again
because I never win
I mean...
you always win
and I can't
I mean I can
at least I thought I could
at least you said I should
at least you promised me you would
stay
forever
and ever
and I never believed
and you knew you would leave
me here
forever
and ever
and never
again
will I waste another lie
or spill so much of my blood
I mean...my time
on you
on me
until the day after tomorrow
or until there's more time to steal
I mean...borrow
until the next forever ever
the next next of never

Random Play

I woke up this morning with some strange urge to write which would not be a problem if I had something to write about, so with my run-on sentences in overstock, I made a decision, conscious or unconscious (you be my judge) to write about absolutely nothing. Once upon a long time far away ago, I used to be fairly adequately barely mediocre at writing about nothing, babbling or rambling or bambling as I used to call it. Damn, I thought I was so clever, and so funny, and so inspiring (even if it was to nobody but myself and a handful of people that I was lucky enough to have grasped their attention) lucky, I say, because I could have just as easily been spouting off my nonsense to 4 blog walls, whatever that means, and I've never been really fond of an echo, which you wouldn't know by talking to me in real life because, hell, you'd think I love nothing more than to hear the sound of my own voice. I talk and I talk and I talk and I talk and I talk and I don't need a reason. I sing out loud. I laugh out loud. I live out loud. (Yeah, right, all except the living part, which doesn't mean that I'm dying, but I guess we all are, right?) Well....that's deep, but you didn't really expect to read this without me being just a little bit or a lot of, well, me? I haven't written or even attempted to write (not that I haven't thought about it or had dreams of coming up with some sort of brilliance-yahhh right!) for months now. Okay, maybe that's not so true, which makes it be----ummm...false? Sentences, fragments really, mostly, only. Like that. Let me find my little notebook that I used to (religiously) take with me everywhere. Let's see what I scribbled in there just for kicks and giggles. Hold on....

Haaaaaaaah! I'm flipping through...and I find too many fucking Wal-Mart receipts (they give you back your check now and I just shove it in my purse) and a note that starts out like this:

"(insert ex boyfriend name here), Is this wh...."

What the hell?

Let me find my other notebook.

Hold on....

Hmmmm...blank pages, blank pages, an address, a title, this title:

Simplicity (Complex)ity

'twas sure to be a blog all about how I can take the simplest of things and make them completely complicated. Well, duh, you say, I got that much from the title. Did you really? And again, I thought I was being so clever. True enough, I do get bogged down in the details sometimes, I might not notice the color of your eyes, but yeah, I saw the thread hanging from your shirt. I might not remember your name, but I'll remember the sound of your voice, the smell of your cologne and how you almost tripped when you walked away. Moth balls. Head scratching. The sigh and the breath at the end of your sentence. I know that you are lonely before you are even left alone to think about it. I know because I fuck the obvious and disregard it. I know because I see the things I want to see when I don't want to see anything else, when there is nothing left to focus on, but that tiny fucking thread on your shirt, that gets bigger and longer and more knotted every time I see you, when I see you, when I see you, when I see you. When will I see you again?

It would have been a good title though, right?

I find my Tropic Thunder movie ticket and my pass card to Epcot. Good fucking times.

I have those, lots of em...good fucking times, probably more than my fair share. In fact, I have a really great life, really great. There, I said it. My life is awesome, and I'm happy, emo yeah, but happy. I laugh way more than I cry, I sing way more than I shout, I dance way more than I pout, and I sleep way more than I don't sleep (couldn't think of anything cool to put there).

I'm figuring out shit which means I'm figuring out that there wasn't shit to figure out in the first place. Everything you need, you'll find within yourself. Of course it never hurts to have family and friends around when you have those moments where you decide to go full retard and you forget everything that's important, and it really is all about the little things. Right fucking now. Not dwelling on what I did last year or wondering where the hell I'll be at next year, but right this minute. And yeah, I'm good.

Are there people I miss? Every fucking day.

Are there things I'm sad about? Sure.

Do I sound like someone who has eaten up a whole bottle of anti-depressants? (here it comes, here it comes, wait for it, wait for it, wait for it...) FUCK YEAH, I DO! But nope, this is just me, another year older, another year older, another year older, another year.....older. And you thought I was going to say wiser.

Music still excites me.
The sunrise and sunset still move me.
My friends and family still sustain me.
Life still amazes me.

Still.
Still.
Still, yeah, I guess I'm still pretty good at this bambling thing after all.

So....I caught a glance in my direction.
Or....maybe nothing more than a reflection.

But....

I'll see you.
I'll see you.
I'll see you when I see you.
When will I see you again?

a bout and about

my box of 72 colored pencils and book full of empty pages

sour kisses and sour cherries

llamas that eat hands

a bulldog named beefy (tomorrow it will be meaty)

my new quilt

90 degrees

honeysuckles

improv (making this shit up as i stumble along)

baby ruthless aka his newest muse

the color blue

figuring it all out

realizing i was wrong

realizing i was wrong about being wrong

realizing i was right

realizing i forgot what it was that i was right about being wrong about

pink lemonade

butter crunch

silly dreams

hideouts

dirt roads

laughing at (everything)

flow-ride-ah

dirty girls

telepathy

New Again

scream-o

people who hate spoons

t-shirts (I'm bored of cheap and cheerful)

starfish, snowmen, and bridges

U-toob

sunsets (early ones and the ones for muggings)

writing my own songs

singing them to nobody but myself

and then, forgetting the words

going places

getting lost on purpose

writing crap poetry on the slight offchance that someone might not find it so crappy

details

arguing with myself and knowing that one of us will always end up winning
or losing

double knots

double dares

flip flops and messy hair

the smell of a suntan

having no a/c and riding with my hand dangling out the window

wondering why

wondering how

wondering who

wondering where

wondering when

wondering what (the fuck)

wandering

switching gears

changing lanes

crossword puzzles at 4:30

the time (right before and right after and every second in between)

blinking and almost missing it all

catching my breath

twirling my hair

being scared shitless but doing it anway

knowing (or hoping) that i'll be cool to my nephew for at least another 2 years

trying not to take anyone or anything for granted

learning (always)

having the best of times at the worst of times with the best(est) of friends

(new, clean, clear, huge, wide open, dark, vast) space(s) (travel, cadets, man)

lists within lists within lists

distortions

imaginary real life

daydreaming at night and sleepwalking during the day

clearing up misconceptions and clutter

using the same styrofoam cup until it leaks (or at least until i think the mold is going to kill me)

scoring concert tickets

jack (white, daniels)

striking the match

watching it burn

throwing gasoline on the fire

stopping dropping and rolling before it consumes me (just in time)

drifting off to sleep while sitting here

rambling

standing my ground (in quicksand)

choking on my own words

hacking them up to form a mess that (sort of, kind of, almost) resembles a blog

Soap Scum

Something silly that stupidly stuck.

You know how you try really hard to wash shit away. Take, for instance, a very nice long, scalding hot, bubble bath. Oh, it's soothing, oh how it's cleansing, but when you get out of the tub, you're left with a dull nasty ass ring. Hmmm, unpleasant, but you'll get to that on Saturday. So, another night, another bath and so on and so forth. You get "cleaner", but the tub gets nastier, right? Okay, so by Saturday it's so freakin' fucking filthy that you have to clean it or you might as well go head first into the point of no return, a tub so disgusting that no industrial strength cleaner would do the job. Might as well just buy a new tub, but you're not quite to that point, yet, so, on your hands and knees and because you're arms are just a touch too short you climb in the tub to do the scrubbing. You try all sorts of new kick-ass cleaning products. You're a sucker for anything. The layers are so thick you can scrape it off with a knife. You do a reasonable job. The tub is now clean and safe for bathing again.

Until next weekend, when you'll be on your hands and knees doing the same shit with the same fucking sponge inhaling the same stupid chemicals.

It's funny, or maybe it isn't and maybe I'm just crazy or different or maybe I think way to much and draw a relation and a correlation where there is none, but I think that tub is a lot like me. See, the same thing happens, night after night, day after day. I scrub. I wash. I use all the newest prettiest smelling supposed to be the cleanest gettingest soap you can buy, but no matter what, I am always dirty.

Right now, there's a layer on me that I can scrape away, but there's another layer that I'm never able to get to.

It won't stop me from trying though.

How about you?

Are you scared of what you might find underneath?

Feeding The Fear

(Keep your friends close, but, not so close that they can eat out your eyes or gnaw through your skin.)

Once there was a woman
who didn't have any friends
she lived isolated and all alone
with dust bunnies and rocks, her only pets

one day she saw a little mouse
scurry across the floor
she started feeding it cheese and crackers
and pretty soon, one turned into four

the table was set for five
they had tea parties and interesting conversation
she made them all tiny little clothes
i swear, this is so not an exaggeration

But...

four turned into forty more
and before long they ruled the house
crazy to think all this madness started
with just a single solitary mouse

you see, the woman and her nagging fear
of not wanting to be alone
had encouraged them to multiply
and now they were out of control

there were far too many now,
some didn't even have a name
she was embarrassed at what a mess they made
and positively ashamed

One day, she rode into town
and bought herself a cat
a couple gallons of poison
and a few hundred traps

but these rats just sat and watched
they were far too wise
after all they had been domesticated
and completely humanized

they lured the cat away
all it took was a ball of string
they drank shot glasses of the poison
and for some reason, the traps would never spring

she knew she had no choice,
she'd kill them one by one
she ran upstairs to her bedroom
and started looking for her gun

she opened up the closet door
gasped in horror and despair
took one last ragged breath, fell to the floor
Whaddaya know...she was dead right there

now's about the time you ask yourself
what could have gotten to this woman (after all, it took a hundred mice to make her crack)
what buckled her knees in disbelief
what sight could have brought on a massive heart attack

You see, by feeding all those mice
she was in turn feeding her deepest darkest fear
the one where she was destined to be alone forever
So, can you see where this is going, my dear?

Okay, I've made you wait
and tried to hold you in suspense
but, it's time, this rhyme gets put to rest
so, I'll leave you with just this

Don't let your fears control you
you do whatever it takes
don't be like the woman, don't give in
and for goodness sakes
don't feed them cheese and crackers and cookies and cakes
but if you do,
don't be shocked and horrified (or drop dead)
when you find a closet full of snakes

Forced Entry

The Re-Opening

It hurts like hell to open up and use this paper and this pen
because the words seem to slice
and cut
and tear
like a rusty razorblade across my skin

I'm hoping to unleash them,
let them flow,
let them scream,
and let them shout
but no matter how many times I write it down,
it's never,
ever
deep enough
to completely bleed it out

Out With The Seriously Fucked Up, And In With The.....

I remember now.

It wasn't all good. In fact, some of it just plain sucked ass. You never ever treated me the way I should have been treated, the way I deserved to be treated. You made me feel like shit. You walked all over me and took me for granted. You used me and when you were done, you threw me away.

But...

Only because I let you.

And I still wonder about you...

Yeah, I do. I'll admit it. Do you think about me at all?

But, mainly, I guess...

I think about her. Do you call her "Baby"? Does she know that you hate mushrooms, Days of Our Lives, and pretty much anything that she will ever like? Does she know that you will do your best to make her feel like the most insignificant being on the planet all while claiming to be her best friend? Does she know that she will never be able to love you enough? Does she know that she can give all of herself and it will never be enough?

Or is she silly and just hard-headed enough to think that she could be the one that changes you, changes everything?

It's funny.

I almost feel sorry for her.

Know what's funnier?

I should have felt sorry for me.

Know what's even funnier than that?

I really feel sorry for you.

You see, I can do better. I can still find someone to love me the way I should have been loved. You, on the other hand, have only one way to go from here.

And "Baby", it ain't up.

They say....(who the fuck is "they" anyways) there are many stages that you have to go through when getting over someone.

Guess which stage this is...

Happy Jappy New Year!

Merry Christmas!

Setting The Stage

I have refused to listen, refused to talk about it for too long. It wasn't coming out in a nice pretty poem or a cool clever story and it didn't hold my attention. How could I expect it to hold yours? You would not be entertained at all and appearances are everything, on with the show and all that bullshit. There will be no standing ovation for this one. One night only, no repeat performance. I will stand here naked and exposed and tell the whole story. Not just the parts that I love to tell, those are the ones that let me show off what a great actress I really am. Or so I thought. I think the sign of a really, really great actress is being able to take the boring parts of my so called life and make them into something interesting. Will I be able to do that? Can I create that illusion? We're about to find out.

I'm scared shitless that I don't have anything to say this morning. I wake up, but not really. I'm sleeping late again. Following routine after routine, more of the same. I speak in fragments and incoherent thoughts. I piss myself off and it's not even 10am yet. I swore that I would wake up and be someone completely different today, but I'm really stuck in character. I don't know if I can even play anyone else, not before breakfast. I'm unprepared. Forgetting my lines. The sun shines through the blinds in my room and it makes a lightning bolt on the wall. Striking. I can't remember being this nervous...sweaty palms, shaking knees, cold feet, dry mouth, churning stomach, pounding heart. Do I have it in me to pull this off? I make my way to the bathroom. I try to hum a tune, but it's not following in rhythm with the thumping in my chest and I keep missing the beat. Must find the right song for today. It's the one constant that changes...the music. I have to be able to hear the music. My bed is made, but the room is still a messy mess. Full of a life that is neither here, nor there. Some strange in between, that is sometimes comforting because in my head I can be anywhere, but sometimes frightening because I have no fucking clue where I belong.

I flip on the light, brush my teeth, wash my face. Foamy soap, warm water. Scrub, scrub, scrub. Wash it all away. Grab a towel. Pat dry. Open my eyes. Look in the mirror.....

You again? I smile.

Well, at least I know my lines.

Now all that's left is to find the right song.

The song to fit the dance.

The dance to get the crowd on their feet.

Something to move not only the audience, but myself.

One more show, just for today.

Give them what they came for.

They didn't come to see her, they came to see you.

Another sell-out performance!

Besides...

Who the fuck wants to play to half empty halls and echoes?

dis(EN)courage-d

looking for the things that I have misplaced

strength
hope

i have plenty of love to give.

maybe we could work on a trade.

don't talk to the last person that I gave my love to. he might tell you that i'm not so good at it.

what am i good at?

give me a second, let me think on it.

babbling
rambling


nothing

that's it.

now make something of it.

Drawing My Own Conclusions

Yes, I can have more than one.

No, I won't show you what they looked like.

Strangely enough, one resembled a doodle that I had drawn just the other day.

Now, go draw your own.

Go on.

You can wave your tracing paper in front of my face all day long and I still won't change my mind.

I'm stubborn like that.