I could go off the deep end.

I need to stop writing songs.
I need to stop trying to channel my emotion or chemically triggered illness and just focus on something that's actually

there.

I know that there are plenty of ugly things and I know that there are plenty of ugly parts of me and

I know

I have a lot of amends to make.
For myself, not for any of you. For me.
To stop dwelling. To stop procrastinating and postponing everything else in my life.

And maybe then I can be a little less self-centered, which is always
a good start
to a good something.

make me

I thought that maybe the freeze-frames of you breathing, me breathing you and our breath hanging in the cold air, mingling like two school girls
would slip away,
like everything



and while we are quietly humming, we secretly are wishing
that the other would start dancing so that the night won't be wasted

but what we aren't aware of won't hurt us, will it?

'appropriate' is out the window

"Men and women are completely different. As a teenager it is very easy to miss this simple truth."



I have officially soul-searched my way out of gender.

I enjoy my womanly curves and soft-er features. I also enjoy my reproduction system and the fact that I may, if I so choose, procure a child within myself. I enjoy the ability to paint hormonal cycles, and of course to distinguish myself as a female.

But I do think, that with modern society, most 'female' and 'male' characteristics are defined by certain standards that are set by impetuous people who have strong-armed their ideals unto others.

Unfortunately, everyone is decidedly impressionable.
(I am not presenting myself as a lone crumb, with thoughts separate from the whole cookie-cake of the human race. I am as susceptible to faux-info as anyone.)

I just think that maybe, we're all part of the same race.
And maybe we shouldn't stereotype the capabilities of beings who are separate from us by only a select few reproductive and non-reproductive organs.

Individuality is more important to me than gender.

bits and the pieces

You make me the saddest
because you make me so very
happy:

You and your estranged taste
and your wacky loves and their hats
and long hair with braids

Big Mama Lips will kiss me everyday
and Aretha will keep on singing
while the gay man plays piano

You have seen the future
and it was like..
like the microwave
and microwaves aren't ever as bad as

mainstream
music

(shudder)

Water drips from the ceiling down your back
but it feels like a giant moth flapping his wings.

I have heard you sing and you can sing
with your soul in your voice and your
heart perching on your shoulder,
looking pretty enough to eat

Eating spaghetti, heat of the moment
when a noodle is slipping from your lip
and you look so incredibly

vunerable.

Four squares and you
were the best of all.

Winning makes you enemies.

But love
makes you enemies.
You use it to get respect?
Putting words into your mouth, a mouth with lips for cover,

but it's just a word, love

we are
really all just

words.

I wrote a song,

When you leave me
To go to sleep, I always feel your dreams matter more than me

And I know it's a silly thought
But you'll always be the fattest fish I caught

And on through the years,
If you still want me here,
If you haven't broken
what I've put my heart in

They say we'll grow old
Change our warm intentions to bitter cold

But if I've noticed anything
What they say doesn't mean a thing

'Cause so far, my dear,
I still want your arms
around me at times
when I feel like crying.

Oh, singing this to you, from me.
Oh, I love that you love me.

Maybe we'll grow up,
and the world will become a brimming cup,

And we'll drink ourselves dry,
but never give up, and neither will I.

And success isn't built
on the hunt and the kill.
No more weaks, no more strongs
Let the rights trump the wrongs.

All this buzz, the earth it spins,
and we all ask the questions but no one wins.

I find I need time,
to think of a reason, much less a rhyme.

And time over season,
the allergies, the sneezing.
The sick and the elderly,
wondering, "who will take care of me?"

Oh, singing this to you, from me.
Oh, love me, do you love me?

Oh, singing this to you from me.
Oh, I love that you love me.

--------------------------------


My mother liked it when I played it for her :)

babycakes

Waking up early to sweater weather and the aroma of pumpkin pancakes,
my throat isn't sore from last night and
I feel very refreshed even with
four hours sleep.


These are days when I know,
I must've done something right.

commentary

I am as still as a rabbit who has been seen.

The exception is my heart,
leaping from the confines of my chest,
up and out into sky and birds
and my thoughts are left in my bed
while I am tugged along by my heart-strings..

If you are to spend a day alone,
what better way than to spend it in the clouds?

surprises

I took this picture by accident two days ago.
Isn't it wonderful how beautiful something accidental can be?

morning glories

I love
loving someone
on a day
like this one.

I take a picture in my head of,
you wearing blue, your dark features
contrast the light and
you look like you did in that picture
on your mother's wall
of a boy all wet from swimming and happy from living

I can say from the weight of things,
the way your hair has grown and
so have I,
the color of the clouds
that we stumble upon and
the knowing glances that elderly couple in the next booth gave us..

Today was a beautiful day.

I think her eyes will pass me, so
I keep watching.
But as soon as
that decision is made,
they stop
on
top
of me

and

I have an idea
of what
Lennon and Dylan and Chapman and
everyone in the sixties saw.

I saw
exactly
what was there
and I
ignored it.