I Am Worthy Again...

..To Wear My Own Sexiness

oh yes....

somewhere inside
i probably should be crying
should probably feel more broken
more torn
more in two
but i dont let myself
get broken
never never never ever never
wont cant wont, nope

ill let you in
im not guarded
im not that
im not a scorpio
im an open book
you're free to read
and make notes in my margins
highlight my pages
add lines, pages, chapters
or not
i dont shut you out
thats not my safety feature
not my self-preservation function

i dont hope
i dont plan
i keep, or try to keep
from thinking any further than the now
or a few nows from now

i let myself hope for more with him
i let myself want regularity
i let myself let go of the cool
of the me who is just enjoying
she was still there
but she was joined by the hope
the, well maybe
we'll see
.fucker.
shes the one who did me in
because even though im stupid
wasnt blind sighted
or treated bad in anyway
because she was there
because she came to stay
and talk
and linger linger linger
long after i had wanted my thoughts to cease
to that end
she doomed me
doomed me to minor sadness at the words of it
at the sound of the
we shouldnt do this anymore
its all her fault
and i hate that girl
and shes a part of me
and i hate it still and more and greater

Expiration Date..

I
apparently
have a shelf-life
of approximately
a month and a half.


and,
please feel free to further inquire.


thank you.

If A Sneeze..

is 1/8 of an orgasm
Im half way there

this girl brain of mine...

somethings wrong
somethings wrong with this girl brain of mine
refund, store credit, or exchange?
i cant turn it off
i cant turn it on
i cant attempt to rearrange
the priorities
the presets
the lame lingering what ifs
of the things beyond my control
and my knowing
my knowledge
beyond comprehension
which just ask me, goes to show
that this girl brain of mine is completely defunct
defective, infected, obscured
and if you are offering
i'll glady receive
and take
and do
any cure

Great Words...

Shtupping
Zamboni
Snarky
Twitterpated
Goober

life is not this..

life is not your plans
life is not your dreams
life is the shit you do to get you through
and the shit you go through
that makes you want to escape to what you like to call
your life
life is moving so fast, and no going anywhere
doing so much, busy all the time, and accomplishing nothing
life is no longer about your dreams
no longer about goals or what you can achieve
its about getting through
getting past, getting on

and i dont want it to be that

i want it to be good
not easy not pretty but good
good in a real way
i dont want to cry to my mother
im so glad i can, i hate that i did
but i dont want to
i dont want life to be that for me
i want it to be my adventures
even if those adventures seem mundane to you
i want it to be good
i want this next step to be in the right direction
and i want the bottom to fall out
so i can fall on the friends i have
and the strength ive found
but i dont want this
this bullshit teetering on the edge of nothing
not achieving
no locomoting

life is not this
i cant let it be
its that optimist i swallowed awhile back
she just wont digest

if you want it, come get it..

the things i think of you
are the kind of things you cant share
the things that you tell no one
not even the person you tell when you "tell no one"
not even them
because the things i think of you are carnal
the things i think of you are luscious and lascivious
and completely appropriate
i should not think these things about you
and me.
thats the part
the you
and me.
and me...
thats the thing about them
the thing that makes the so untellable
so untold
because i scarcely allow myself to think them
myself to think them all the way through
i dont
i dont, but i want to.
and why, why stop your thoughts
who's gonna find out
when im driving alone in my car
who is going to know about the things im thinking about
the things, that if you did to me, with me that would..
but it stops.
i dont want it to stop.
i dont.
i want it to keep, keep keep, going
going to a place where i cant even write about it...almost
i still want to write it
but i Want to go there
in my mind
with you
and me.
i want that.
i want it with both.
or rather, all three?
plus one more, the self, and four.

For...

Philosophically turbulent to the point of
Hysterics hypothetically hindering the literary
Infiltration of classical structures which would only be used with
Lascivious license to create chaos anew

Stream of Conscience...

Ive used the ‘help me Im a girl’ excuse more in the past month then I think I have ever in my entire life. Its almost as if my super-amazonian overcompensating complex has died down, and Im not quite sure how I feel about that. I mean, the major motions are still intact. I still wont cry in front of boys. Refuse. I will physically stop myself, or run away. Run away! If I am in anyway in contest with a boy, I must win. Verbally, win, mentally win! I must, I must. And its always been a thing of CAN DO, and ew, dont think just cuz Im packing the vah-jay-jay that means I cant do x-y-z. I can do it all! Especially if anyone packing a penis says I cant. Or shouldnt or what have you. I am Wonder Woman. But lately I falter. I use the feminine as an out.

Fantastical Weekend..

..of doom
..in space

-----

For the record, I have officially (and finally) been sucked into Firefly, which rocks...Oh Joss Whedon..grr, arg. And if you dont understand the 'grr, arg' then you havent watched any Joss Whedon shows, and for you I am terribly, terribly sorry.

Swing dancing in the city = amazing fun..of doom
Not feeling 3rd wheely for the first time in life = new and exciting..in space


And there is a certain black leather couch that has become my downfall
And I couldnt be happier
A certain twin bed to be crunched in
And I couldnt be happier
A black zip-up hoodie I almost made off with
If I had it I might be just a bit happier
Omelettes and waffles and kick-ass conversation
Opening doors and car rides and emotional deliniation
Cooing and closeness, to tell on would make you gag
But this seems like a good one, a most lucky snag