Listen, real poetry doesn't say anything...

say: "I love you so much you must kill me now...."

So...quite a few things have changed in the past six measly months.
I am back in Alabama which is more boring and pain-staking that you can imagine.
At least it is summer and the sun is shining.

I picked up a few new vices back in the good ole OKC...
Nothing I'm too proud of but basically, a sharp, skin penetrating little habit and [of course] the newest addition to the dense, vapid collection of now shitty "I'm gonna be a rockstar" boyfriends.

Good things about Birmingham [trying to be positive this time...]

1. Beautiful scenery
2. Cable!
3. Clean living environment
4. Money
5. Going back to school to get a "real job"
6. Being close to my familia

Sure, there are a few minor pitfalls, mostly I miss my friends, but the ones that are really friends will surely come visit [as will I] so the time should hopefully fly.

I wrote some things while I was with boyfriend No. 347 that I'd like to share.
We'll call him "Darrell the Dope Fiend" :)
[just for fun, of course, not to imply by any means that he is addicted to....oh, I don't know, a well known form of opiate commonly injected directly into the vein...]
At any rate.....let's continue:
You've taken away my security.
I'm no longer safe in front of a mirror.
Emily. Tara. Stephanie. Audrey. Whitney.
See a pattern anywhere?

Deception isn't brutal, the truth is.
Lies aren't spun in webs,
but in cell phones and bed sheets.

You're my car crash, my train wreck
[and I can't stop looking...]
I stay out all night because I cannot stand to look at you,
knowing about your secret life and how I long to be
as important to you as ____________.*

[*Whomever this week's "thrill" happens to be.]
I smoke myself to sleep
because I've grown cynical of my own tears because well, let's face it,
I put myself through this.....
Selling my soul [AT COST!]
for a warm body to lie next to.
You seem to find common ground in everyone but me,
So then, I ask:
WHY DO YOU STAY?
Is it merely some faux sense of obligation toward messy-ole-me?
Is it the car?
A similar longing to mine, a warm, comfortable bed-fellow?

Whatever the case,
it is rapidly more and more becoming "shit or get off the pot" time.
Except "shit" means "leave the man you adore"
which, as a matter of fact,
is remarkably more difficult that passing a bowel movement,
leading me to believe that the whack-job that the aforementioned phrase
is accredited to had clearly never been in love.

That's about the jist of what I've gone thru the past 6 months.
Shameful, I know.

Alas, one must hold one's head high,
accept the trials dealt to her,
and walk on feeling empowered and further educated on the lessons of love.

posted by Unknown @ 3:38 PM