Do u love me

ode to summer. sometimes i crave the sunshine so bad that i can feel the hunger in my chest. i miss the feel of those brand new blades of baby grass inbetween my toes and the little breeze that seeps through leaves on the trees. im tired of the snow and the perminant grey tint that blankets everything along with it. Have you ever noticed how the sky is always that sea sick white color in the winter? Even when its clear? Ode to summer. I think it's about time that this tiny little town saw some color. As if life here was'nt dull enough. These patches of mud, snow, water, mud, snow, a giant puddle, mud, and more snow are bringing me down. where are the dry dirt roads and the puffs of little white cotton balls that grow atop thin green stalks on the sides of oilwell road. Where are the tourists who walk way to close to the highway with their hipweighters flapping along to the rythm of their jolly footsteps and their fishing poles resting over their sholders poking other tourists in the eyes behind them? I miss being able to run out onto the driveway with no shoes on. i like the feel of dirty feet. I like that bit of proof that there really is earth underneeth them.

Some day i'll out bake you.

Sometimes i realise that everything i do seems to fall just a little short of what everyone else can do. I do my hair, my friend does hers better. her curls hang just a little softer around her thin face than my strait hair does around my high cheek bones and bubbley moon face. I bake a cupcake, and my sister makes an english spice tea bunt cake with powdered sugar lighty snowed on top of its rose shaped, spongey, moist, body. I tell a secret to a friend, and my other friend tells her a secret that trumps mine completely and could casue a grown man's knees to buckle and people's universes crashing down around them. Sigh.... Its not easy being green. But, i of coarse know that there has to be something that only i can do in a way that only a person like me could do it. I just havent discovered what this special power that i poses is yet. I'm on a life long quest to find some kind of hidden talent that i never knew i had because the being able to raise one eyebrow thing isnt cool anymore now that destini can make her's do the wave....hmm....maybe ill practice putting my entire fist in my mouth. though, i don't want people getting the wrong immpression of me. i guess ill just have to do a little more self exploration to find this inner skill that is hiding somewhere deep in my being. some day dear sister. some day i will out bake you.

To a friend

Yes, you were cute... Ok, you were very cute. even those girls in school who all say they dont need a man to define them as strong independent women couldnt resist those brown eyes with their hint of deep purple that so teasingly peeked from behind black flippy hair. yeah, i think you always knew i was a sucker for that long hair. i remember you from younger days. not exactly "the good old days" but days that were sometimes good and even better when you were there. i remember times where you had me in the mood to laugh even when nothing was funny. you always did that somehow and i think you may still be the only one who knows how to do it. you could litterally name one of the food groups and you would have me rolling on the floor holding my gut and wishing i could never be serious again. Here's to you friend. You and your inability to let me, a loser in almost every way imaginable, fall behind in math. Or, lose my place on that second to last swing to a second grader, or even, go a whole day without having a quote off of our favorite youtube videos. of coarse, there wasnt such a thing as youtube back then was there? if you read this you would probably spit on my shoes for forgetting that website with those stupid videos on it. and yeah, you were cute then too. But no, i wont give you the pleasure of telling you that to your face. here's to you friend. may "the new good days" be better than the old ones and may you never let me forget that website's name again.

No intentions here

The iron stain spreads like mold on bread.
the hot sticky sap of my body slowly drains from my open wound and
i wonder what the blood carries with it when it leaves the comfort of this broken person
and becomes exposed to a cold non alive world.
once that red creek trickles beyond the path that it has become so used to,
that vein that pulses and pushes it in the right direction,
it can not survive without another to feed it.
does it carry a hint of soul on its back?
does the pungent odor of its rust colored mass mask what really lies inside it?
yes, i can feel the frosted air that flows in and out of my lungs slipping away into the still atmosphere around me and a little hope goes with it as it seeps through the gaps of my teeth.
the blood moves slow now.
my rib cage cant hold me together anymore.
who am i to ask it to try?
yes, the dark has frosted my eyes like steam on a mirror.
there is no reflection to gaze apon,
there is no soul left to define who i am.
and there are no intentions here.