care.

i wonder about the care that you place like legos

do you care about me? more than others

maybe i care too much, i filled my portion

something tells me i care too little, less than politics

take care, till another life

one day i will send you.

nothing went wrong, tonight

nothing went right, tonight

i probably misled you

but my messages are the hurtful ones

sorry, i forgot

why don't i take that blame?

since you are not old enough to recognize you're immaturity

i hate to say i hate you

i hate to say i wish never need anybody

but you turn me off to the idea of trust

instead of cuddles and scarves,

i will fill this cup with tears,

so the salt will dry your mouth

bitter

stuck in your wolfish teeth

your ugly, ugly teeth

pointed like a fork,

digging into ugly cake

other

stay by my side

keep confusion outside of this room

as we laugh at things uncomfortable

and talk about people we wish we knew

so we knew they were better

and ties would not become so knotted

closed

give me a task,

too dumb for children

a goal too small for someone my age

because that is how far my arms can reach

Someday my pain, someday my pain

Will mark you

Harness your blame, harness your blame

And walk through

slipping out through the back door.

field

daylight

wind

music

hair

no

one

will

know

time slot.

ask me if i am.

i'm not.

pin deeper than the puddle.

upon reaching this level of acceptance with the unknown, i laugh with the rush of the wind in the dying leaves

my story is a simple one, for i care not to tell

numbers mean nothing in the morning, swirling around 7, written on her all-knowing finger

that bike lying in the grass, quintessential symbol of our affluence

i ask myself why i cannot be like the others, as i wait for a pin to fall and shatter my calm reflection

and all these strings wander and twist, knot, loosen, fray, and fall into a heap as i laugh at the mess and attach it to my stringy hair

pearls in my ears, smile on my face, nothing in my eyes, and hands around love, i sit

waiting

for the pin to drop, the leaves to die, the curls to twist, the strings to unravel

i could never make bracelets, maybe that is why i hate camp

.

been carted away 2.

http://www.archive.org/details/BeenCartedAway

a feeling of soul that only comes from walking alone and being

awake

shoulders turned for a feeling of

control, better than you

in the end,

we are lone feet wandering the circular paths

finding the places where our

footsteps have been

hearts inclined only when our rooms feel empty

or roles unfulfilled as curtain call ends

and we are stuck between backstage and the

pit

waiting for a cue, most likely not coming

or maybe we missed it when our feet

stumbled

cuts on my hands, disabling touch

sensitive ties,

caught in a bunch

leaving it all

not letting go

for when life moves,

it's never this

slow.

been carted away.

a feeling of soul that only comes from walking alone and being

awake

shoulders turned for a feeling of

control, better than you

in the end,

we are lone feet wandering the circular paths

finding the places where our

footsteps have been

hearts inclined only when our rooms feel empty

or roles unfulfilled as curtain call ends

and we are stuck between backstage and the

pit

waiting for a cue, most likely not coming

or maybe we missed it when our feet

stumbled

cuts on my hands, disabling touch

sensitive ties,

caught in a bunch

leaving it all

not letting go

for when life moves,

it's never this

slow.

no solution.

maybe if i curled a little more around the tension in my stomach,

the memories would go away

the tug o war between propriety and self would go away

the battle between myself would go away

maybe if i sob a little bit harder,

the poison would melt away

the headaches fade away

and my heart would be okay.

conclusion here: one significant line wrapping up loose ends and solving the problems that had arisen in the writing. [i have nothing to fill this empty shell]

my favorite secret.

it starts within. a glance in glass reflection causes the corners of your lips to rise, and your smiling teeth reveal a glimmer of hope. the ruffles sit right on your tired ankles, and your voice is ready to stop. don't you know? nothing can happen before the freckles on your face sit well on your eyes, and the curves of your body are only things to fill out your clothes. it starts within, a small flicker of something so contagious, and so ready to come out. don't leave me, my favorite secret... walk with me, guide me along to that place where i know i am fine,

i am fine.

genre incorrect.

finding myself unable to decide if i am jealous,

i dwell in words like "hermit" "recluse" and "settling"

they seem comforting... like chai.

as long as it doesn't ferment in a cup.

don't be mean.

well, i don't have high expectations... what am i left with?

headbands, greasy hair, pretending that coffee helps me.

it's totally mental... and very white.

its so easy. its so hard.

obviously your life is full of drama of that kind.

crossed legs, photoshop.

library visits and stark, awkward contradictions from a beautiful face.

the kindest words.

the simplest touch.

people, people.

enough is enough.

irresponsible freedom.

making choices between colors and shapes

now between touching and tastes

i know no regret

i feel no evil

except for love leaving the eyeless

sigh will i

for not knowing direction at 17?

please let me forgive

pray for the weak and brokenhearted

vision beyond the open-ended square

"you deserve someone who thinks you are the best thing to happen to this world"

doubtful

toast sans butter.

ideally, my body would be that of

toast

sans butter,

my soul of

fluff

not illusions to a cutter,

my mind

a bath tub clean and pristine,

my countenance

dainty with a hint of

mean

marmelade on the side,

but only, darling, if you decide

for i am putty resting in your dry hands

as i melt like childhood's crayons

teach me, toast,

to be a bit lighter

teach me fluff,

to lose spite towards her

teach me bath tub,

to cry without water

so as to clean the places

that are too dark for public

marmelade on the side,

pecan ice cream in mind

my countenance sweet

like childhood's treats

and old age's defeats

yours truly, making things harder for myself since 1992.

give me the timeline of my life

so i can find tonight and be

panther pictures.

time becoming slow

the future never arriving

i reflect on the flashes

apart

see the muscles moving?

you make hype like thunder

making me a thoughtless blunder

not for you

dreams surround the idea of "you"

you

you

am i involved in this?

slip the sweater from your wrist

show me that italian love

tonight we will dine in the thought of ourselves

perfume at the nape of my neck

smile on my lips

reveling in the thought of you

and me