Hot Mess I cleaned my room a couple days ago I never do. I'm too tired. Now it's messier than it was before. Isn't it always? You try to fix something and it just bites you in the ass in the end. Best to just leave it all alone It takes too much energy, Besides, maybe my room was just meant to be messy.

Youth Since when did lighting our lungs on fire and vomiting up our youth become fun. When did cigarettes and sex become a carnal desire and weed and cocaine a symbol of pure lust. How is grinding on some sweaty unshaved guy kinky. When did fake ids become the one thing we have on our Christmas list memorizing the identity of another so we can lose ourselves in stale beer and cheap vodka. When did dirty songs about pussies become the theme song of passionate love. When did losing yourself become the game of fun. I have been there I have been lost but unlike the rest of adolescent adults, I do not desire it. Everyone wants to grow up too fast. act too old for their own souls. be provocative and disgusting to show that you know what it all means to show that you can do it too. Good for them.

Maybe I Wonder Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if my fantasies came true and we were together. I wonder how we would spend our days. I’d wake up in the morning to see your face on the pillow next to me. To see you wrapped in the cream linen sheets the comforter fallen to the floor. To hear the rising song of our alarm and to have you reach your arm over slamming the top and turning back to me with a defeated smile. I wonder what it would be like to force myself to get up from that bittersweet moment and put on my blouse and skirt and get ready to face the day. Always asking myself why for the perfect day would be to stay in bed all day next to you. I wonder what it would be like if you cooked me breakfast with smiley face pancakes and a tall glass of oj. And the delighted smile on your face as I compliment your apron. And to see you drive. The wind blowing our hair from the windows cranked down. Your sunglasses sitting perfectly on the bridge of your nose and your hand gracefully placed on the top of the rolled down window. Running your fingers through your hair and me wishing to do the same. The music softly playing in the background making the moment seem more and more unrealistically perfect. Maybe we’ll shop in those trendy villages like blue back square. Just walking the streets together, not really even entering any stores. Just walking. Pointing out interesting things in the windows. Maybe we even touch hands for a short moment and if I’m lucky our fingers intertwine and it seems casual to you unawkward natural. Maybe we'll go to dinner and we just talk over pointless subjects and a flickering candle. Then I don’t know what. Maybe we walk again. Under the night sky. Seeing your beauty in glimpses of the city lights. Maybe it starts to sprinkle maybe not. We laugh at a pointless joke. I love your laugh. I love your smile. I see your crisp blue eyes as we walk past a neon sign outside a dull bar and I realize that I love them more than I could fathom. They look into me and see every little thing about me. The good. The bad. My fears. My past. I can sense that. And I can sense that you understand. That you get it. I realize that those eyes are the purest and most beautiful eyes on the planet. Maybe I feel the need to tell you that. Maybe after we laugh and smile we both realize that this is the moment that happens in movies. The one where they realize. The one where they fall in love. The moment that happens after dinner and drinks by the streetlight’s corner. In a hip city of artists and thugs. Like us. Exactly like us. And we realize that we must follow through with the movie. Follow through with the feeling of realization. And then maybe our laughs and smiles drop not completely, not seriousness, just pause. And then maybe we look into each others eyes and slowly slip. Run my fingers through your silky blonde hair heads lean in. I feel your lips against mine I am truly happy. I want to stay there in your arms forever. We pull a part for a second Catching breath Opening eyes You smile And that is what I live for.

#life The best thing about #life is not living. Nor loving. It’s forgetting. Forgetting the sadness and the pain and everything in the world that has ever left a scar on your soul. And for awhile. #life is bearable. And you can sing and dance and laugh and smile and mean it. It’s real. The happiness is real. And when you glanced at the scars there was no haunting memory. You could pull your sleeve down and enjoy the breeze in your hair. And I remember those days when I forgot the suffering. But, somewhere along the line I could no longer forget. A trigger of some sort. I slipped into the realization that I was living alone in an eclipse. I slowly realized that my songs and my smiles were fake. And as I glanced at the scars there was a throbbing memory that tempted me. So, I pulled my sleeve up and watched my world unravel yet again.

9 Maybe I'm a cat With 9 lives Cutting off number 8 I could have gone so much sooner But luck has spared me Although I'm not exactly sure if that is good or bad