Who Is It?

I know you’ll write about me.
You’ll pay homage to me with dying ink
because there’s just too much going on to use a new pen.

And it’ll be your best poem yet!
(Then you’ll forget.)

Just Go!

The trouble with worrying so much about your security in the future is that you feel so insecure in the present.

Harlan Miller

Don't Ask, Don't Tell

The last time I hooked up with a man, he held me tightly and asked, with great shock and passion:
"My God, why are you single?"
I looked into his eyes,
smiled,
and slapped him in the face

Not hard, of course
I did it playfully
I wanted to do it hard though
I wanted to stab him, in fact
But we were in my bedroom and I didn’t have a knife

Do Something

We lose the right to complain when we don't do anything to stop the things that bother us.
That's my opinion and I'm sticking to it.

Here's an inspirational tune to set you free.

Conflicts

Why are the assholes more appealing than the Romeos?
Why are we so annoyed with those who are willing to keep us safe but passionate about the stupid hoes?

Why is it the boy
and never the man?
Why on earth do I crave everything about a rebel
when a piece of gold would benefit my hand?

Why does it hurt so good
if he doesn’t care or wish me well?
Why does it bother me if he doesn’t send me to hell?

Rabbit Hole

I'm always someone's test but never someone's prize
The further I sink into the rabbit hole
the more I see he can't be mine.

I met a man I thought was right. We connected. It was more than anything I've felt for anyone in a long time. It came by surprise. I didn't ask for it. I didn't expect it. I didn't want it. Certainly, I've written many things about my locked up heart. If you know me, you know I don't want love. But, boy, I wanted him so much and I'm surprised at myself for feeling like so.

If you notice, I'm writing in past tense here. You must be wondering what happened. The truth is, I don't even know. My adoration was short-lived. He's gone now. He's taken actually. Seven years! I didn't know.

Yeah, that's right: I fell for a guy who's already in love. That's never happened to me before. I'm not sure how to process all this exactly. I don't want to disrespect his partner so I have decided to stay away. I'm mad though. Because he didn't let me know! He didn't tell me immediately. Maybe he thought he didn't have to? Was he ever really flirting?

It was probably my imagination. I tell myself this because he's too special to be cruel. He wouldn't misguide me on purpose. I don't know him all that well but I don't think he would knowingly tease someone's heart. But who's to say, honestly? He did a bad thing by not telling me he was practically married, that's the very truth. Because, even if he didn't mean to, he totally fooled me. He was so sweet with me! He seemed to want me. We connected. There was fucking electricity, I thought!

But I misread. I misinterpreted his delightfulness, his stupid misguided delightfulness. Where was his goddamn map? He sent it the wrong way! Maybe he's just got so much fucking charm he doesn't know what to do with it or how to handle it. Charm is like a dog. It's got to be trained and handled properly or it'll go and bite the shit out of someone fast. "Where does it go? Who wants some? I have lots!" he must say. He's so dangerous.

I know because I really do know.

The Counterfeit Slut

I've got a sign on my shirt that reads:
"I put out but I won't commit."

Guys like that
'cause they enjoy a man who's there when they're just passing by
—a quick go, then let go

and they always leave with a smile on their face
so long as they don't see the stupid tissue box under my bed when they reach for their shoes right after

I Bet You Think This Post is About You

If I write about an eager bee,
I bet you’d figure out a way to make it about you

If I write, for example:

"The bee buzzed and buzzed and landed on my nose
I swear I heard it cry
And so I slapped my face with two hard blows
And watched the bee fall in my chai."

you’d sob and ask me later:
why are you writing about me?

Tick Tock

I’ve got to watch what I say,
or figure out a way to say things at the right time.
Is there a calculator to help orchestrate proper timing?
I never seem to know when to go.

Get Out Of My Head, I'm Telling You

He’s so pretty, it hurts
And I’m 15 again
Feeling the butterflies in my tummy
Carefully speaking,
Hoping something dumb doesn’t come out my mouth

His lips!
I bet they taste like Jesus
All spiritual and perfect
It’ll probably bring me to my knees

I need to pray!

I Will Not Let Him In

I will not let him in. I will not let him in. I will not let him in. I will not let him in. I will not let him in. I will not let him in. I will not let him in. I will not let him in. I will not let him in. I will not let him in. I will not let him in. I will cnot let him in. I will not let him in. I will not let him in. I will not let him in. I will not let him in. I will not let him in. I will not let him in. I will not let him in. I will not let him in. I will not let him in. oI will not let him in. I will not let him in. I will not let him in. I will not let him in. I will not let him in. I nwill not let him in. I will not let him in. I will not let him in. I will not let him in. I will not let him in. I will not let him in. I will not let him in.I will not let him in. I will not let him in. I will not let him in. I will not let him in. I will not let him in. I will not let him in. I iwill not let him in. I will not let him in. I will not let him in. I will not let him in. I will not let him in. I will gnot let him in. I will not let him in. I will not let him in. I will not let him in. I will not let him in. I will not let him in. I lwill not let him in. I will not let him in. I will not ilet him in. I will not let him in. I will not let him in. I will not let ohim in. I will not let him in.

[untitled]

There are moments
I crave love
I think about having a man
of being held and
belonging to someone
but those moments are fleeting
they last all of 5 seconds
I quickly snap out of that desire
And remember:
I’m not really good enough for anyone right now anyway

The 8 Books I Can't Get Through

I don't know what's happening. Maybe I've killed a cell inside that's supposed to help me read. Maybe it's the weed? Just kidding. But, I wonder.

I haven't been able to get through a novel in a while now. I've picked up so many books in the last four months but have been incapable of committing to more than just a chapter or two of each one. I think I've read over the first couple chapters of Elizabeth Strout's Olive Kitteridge about five times. It's supposed to be an amazing book and it won a Pulitzer Prize too, for Heaven's sake! Still, I can't get passed those few pages. I'm not inspired to go on.

The same thing has happened with Chris Cleave's Little Bee. I'm up to chapter three and to be quite honest, if I were in college sitting in front of a quiz on the book, I'd fail. I don't even remember the main character's name. Everyone I know who has read the book has told me it's hard to put it down. I, however, find myself falling asleep. What's going on?

There have been more books. I'm sitting in front of six others, actually. This has never happened before. I've always been so committed when reading a novel. There has always been that yearning to go on and see what's coming next, even if the book happens to bore me to pieces. I linger on, hoping that maybe by the end I'll be captivated.

Paint it Black by Janet Fitch comes to mind. I was so excited when I purchased that book. I had just finished her previous novel White Oleander and so I expected another inspiring and moving piece of art. Unfortunately, I wasn't amused by the novel at all. I grew annoyed by the hapless and bitter protagonist. At some points I sympathized, but I grew angrier and angrier as I read on. Still, I maintained. I waited and I dedicated hour after hour until I approached that very last page. Was it all a waste of time? I thought so at first. After a while though, I realized that I did learn a few things. Ms. Fitch writes like no other author. Her words sing. Even if I hated the book, I felt something. Ultimately, that's the reason why some of us read, right?

Anyway, my point is, I used to be able to read even if I wasn't really into the material. I don't know why I can't jump into a book and join the author's world for a few hours anymore. I wonder if this has anything to do with age. Am I losing my marbles already? No. It can't be an age thing. There are older people who read all the time! So what is it? Am I thinking so much about my own life that escaping to some pretend one isn't possible? I think I'm just too distracted. There's so much going on these days. There's no free time or motivation frankly. The free time I do have, I end up going to sleep or watching movies. Movies are a lot easier to commit to it seems. There's less thinking involved. Am I right?

I wonder if it means anything that the last few novels I have been able to get through were part of a young adult vampire series. I went through those books like candy. Why was it a lot more fun to read those than it has been to read the 8 I've tried getting through lately? Was it the humor, or sex, or silly plot? Was it the flow and simplicity that comes with a young adult novel? Am I a lot dumber now than I have ever been? Maybe the books were just really good. Vampire stories are addicting. Whatever the reason, I've got to get to the bottom of all this. I refuse to stop reading. There's got to be an adult novel waiting for me, right? Or is a Dr. Suess story next?

I'm going to keep looking. I'm going to the bookstore tomorrow and I'll give this reading thing one last try. I miss reading and I think it's important to explore the written word. Novels are beautiful things. I can't give up on them. Let's see what happens.

So, tell me - anyone out there recommend a good novel? What are you reading?

So That's What Jealousy Feels Like

I thought you were mine
until I saw you talk to him
then I realized:
what have I done to deserve you?

I haven't done anything yet
and you probably don't even know how much I think about you
I don't even know how much I think about you
it's too often
and I've lost count
I know that much is true

So, if I see you holding hands with someone else
if you both smile
and look lovingly into each other's eyes
I'll try and sit tight
I'll survive

Maybe He's Right In Front Of Me

I'd give anything to end the search.
No, wait—
I'd give anything to have the wisdom to realize the search is over.