Sunday, March 29, 2009

Oh no, you girls'll never know.

Five months ago today I wrote myself a letter.
At the time, it seemed completely appropriate.
Now, it seems terribly critical.
Iffen I were to meet myself that day, I don't think I would've liked me.
It's strange to go back and read some of the things I've previously written.
Some days it sounds like me, others it's a stranger's thoughts.
Still, I'm glad I write. It makes me remember. And sometimes even though I don't want to, I know that I need to.

Saturday, March 28, 2009


Means dresses.
and no make-up.
and no responsibilties.

Thursday, March 26, 2009

Pilgrimage of the Monarch.

With a flutter
so delicate,
residue remains.
An iridescent powder
dusts my insides.
Their friable wings once tickled
but now instead they chaff.
And the powder brought
But now it infects.
All that made me smile
leaves blisters
on the fragile membrane.
A plague on my insides.
I cannot stop the havoc
they wreak.
It is impossible.
For tearing into illusions,
is like tearing into clouds.
An invisible swarm
yields tangible damage.
Butterflies, why won't you let me be?

Sunday, March 22, 2009

tap, chip, crack, shatter.

Morals like windows,
can't resist pressure.
Single pane
Single Pain.
tap, chip, crack, shatter.
beware of the shards of misconceptions.
"But it doesn't count, cause I didn't know."

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

A scientific breakdown for words unheard.

So my words decompose,
like rotting leaves.
Leaving fumes of distrust
and decrepid consonants.
At the bases of trees,
the piles fester.
Much like apples.
A summer's harvest
Gone awry.
They mean nothing.

Thursday, March 12, 2009

you are the bottom to my pit.

Like dominos,
we fall.
A delicate balance.
Rectangles of aspirations,
trapped in a downward spiral.
A white palette,
tinged with dots of desperation.
But our fate
was not predetermined.
Our destiny,
dripping like scarlet
from our self-righteous hands.
And the rungs to
our ladder,
have long since rotted.
All that remains
the musty stench of
decomposing delusions.
Our future,
no longer a question.
But an emminent answer
that only circumnavigates.
Yet the irony in it all?
We pushed the first one.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

doubly generic.

I apologize dear,
for I'm sorry to say
that when we leave things to fate,
they seldom happen our way.

The coinciding factors
don't always coincide.
While the planets should align
they instead just collide.

and I've come to conclude,
that tables rarely turn,
and time is hardly in our hands.
it is nearly impossible,
to meet all of love's demands.


If I could,
I would go against the grains..
of sand.
They draw the line.
impossible to cross.
So there the line sits,
waiting for a specific moment,
at an unspecified time.
Her hair flows
in the winds of separation.
With the lilac scent of
Should it be made of glass,
I dare not break it.
For I'd be at fault,
and you'd be in danger.
and if it were as clear,
as the salty rivulets
ceasing to dry,
I might be able to
respect it's boundaries.

Monday, March 9, 2009

Today was well,

But bad.
At the same time.
Very bad that I got pulled over.
Very good that I got out of possibly three tickets.
So it equals out to be, average?

Saturday, March 7, 2009


I haven't written in a few days, I'm not really sure what's been up.
I was at the Getty museum all day yesterday with some kids from art club and my travel buddy Adrian, absolutely beautiful. (The Museum haha)
I might try to post some pictures on here, but I'm sure they will be cut off like all my others.

So there has been something I've been thinking about for a couple days, and I didn't write about it for the sole reason that I'm just not sure if I have the right words.

As we were sitting on the back of Matt's truck the other day, my neighbor Jason put my sunglasses on and started looking around.
"Everything looks so, I dunno..rosey."
I kinda laughed.
Two days later I'm sitting in my room reading and I look across my room. It's basking in a subtle but beautiful golden coloured light. I look up at my windows and see the mid day sun shining through my richly hued curtains.
This is when I start to think.
I see a lot of my world through filters.
Changing, recolouring, altering the way I see things.
Not just physical filters, but mental and psychological filters as well.
The things people tell me change the way I see things.
The music I listen to changes the way I percieve situations.
They are filtering everything around me.
I haven't decided if I like this or not.