Hello 2010.

I'm officially vegan, I took out seven piercings, I'm looking forward to turning 18, my first tattoo, punching both conches and cartilages, dreading my hair and the lovely new relationship that will hopefully continue to blossom. On the other hand, I'm as stressed as ever, anxiety, pressure and obsessive thinking is preventing me from letting my creativity flow freely, I still don't have my driver's license, I'm looking for work, and I can't seem to wrap my head around the simplest things. However, this year I hope that I am able to conquer myself and set my mind free.

oh prickly cactus, do you feel spiked rosebud tears on your lower east side? dear ass.

i think the reason i pay so much more attention to the humans i observe than the animals is because i understand people less. oh, flesh.

50

Rest in Peace, Michael Jackson. You were, are and will always be the King of Pop.

forgive

it feels like a cold moon beach. But nice. With a slight breeze

goddamn

I don't fucking understand why I always get in these situations. The fucking stitches in my mouth are the least of my concern right now. Why can't he just be honest? Why is it so hard for him to say he loves me? Is it because whores tell him all the time? Last night it took so long to make him tell me because he didn't want me to get 'pissed off'. Oh, she might be carrying your child, but that's no big deal. No, I'm not ignoring you, I'm just not talking because my voice will crack and you'll know I'm crying. No, I'm not mad, just tell me.... when did you last see her? Do you... love her? When will she know? When did you last fuck her? Is she is, are you sure it's yours? Will she keep it? Are you going to come home? Were we talking when you did? The questions flowed out of my mouth like the salt water that was flowing from my eyes. As I write this, thousands more questions are scattered in my head and the only thing I want to do is call and ask you all of them. But what will you think of me? Will I seem clingy? Why do I even care? At this point, what do I even know?

oh, twitter

http://twitter.com/thethirdowl

good lord, what a trend

those lips look like maucalay culkins

i want to know your past, present and future. i want no summary, nothing short of a novel. i ask for a box painted with the colors of your dreams, meant to hold hold nothing of material value. only to hold our souls.

in progress

I cant even contextualize the way I feel right now I hear you breathe feel the heat but not now that was then I cant seem to wrap my mind around this big fucking question this issue the issue i'm having why wasn’t I born and raised in a house right next to yours I wanna be with you now i'm not patient and I wont fucking wait I wanna be with you through everything telling you anything we’d rap together play shows together sleep so close at night hold me tight and don’t ever let go I told you so I get attached there's no shame in that just don’t go fucking around behind my back telling me lies and laying down smack cos I don’t take that shit anymore i'm crazy about you and everyone that I love I cant get it enough i'm full to the top but I keep asking for more my tummy's aching but its not all that the pills I mean they're out of the picture now for the most part I don’t need to suffocate my body or my soul not another year will go by like that he fucking hurt me and you know it he fed me pain intravenously after he called me why just cos I fucked him? I gave him something that was mine something that doesn’t mean shit but still its now his. Does he know? Did he see that lie?

?

bouncin with each step / pass these fuckers starin / check the ground beneath my feet / metal canister glarin / reflecting the suns rays / burnin up / activating sweat glands

sirah

bring this girl to me or take me to her she's fucking bomb she's dope she raps she knows what's up she lays down beats like it's nothing she's beautiful and so intense she scares me but i still wanna meet her your gorgeous lady lovely i wish i had a flow like yours i wanna lay down a track with you but i don't have your kind of talent its true

sit tight

little owl. crystalline. acorn new but true. i'm so scared without you. bare dry neck and cold sweat sweat sweat. goldfish human eyes little sundragons in my pupils. enlarged, they ask why? accuse due to my indulgences

elegy

My only consolation,
to the role I played in your death
is that you were fast asleep,
before the alcohol
singed and stung
your tiny wings
and motionless, lifeless bodies.
The air had left your miniature lungs.

&

goldfish look like aquatic sundragons

that long forgotten show

it's scary, believe me, i know
a knock on the door
which muriel always answers
she is, of course, blind to the danger
and eustice just doesn't care
courage sees and his teeth,
rotten and decaying, though they are,
chatter and his eyes roll back into his head
then he plays his role
the hero, savior, caretaker
as he has so many times before
and no one thanks him.

;;;

it's just the day the titanic sunk
but i'm impatient
with my new teapot
and a scratched case that some may say is
abrupt, or attaché.
but still, it's now
and not then
at least not yet
and i'm still waiting
for that shriveled summer skin

'

such incredibly asymmetrical perfectly content silence

sweetly faded

what a small little piece
of fabric
from an old sock
it's the cuff
i made my best friend out of it
the rest, that is
there are three parts
i need one
at least
whether i wear it
or hold it, hug it kiss it, cry onto it, tug at the pieces of string loosened
by my love
for you, everyone
the emotions i pore into this once
dirty sock

dried flowers and little sewn doves

i dreamed i was operating on my lungs. when i left the clinic i was the assistant and i picked up my jewelry from the asphalt. as i walked to the set, you followed me in your car. i refused your offer of a ride and climbed up the moss covered hill myself. surprised at seeing you once i got to the top, i rolled down the other side. it turns out it was all a prop.

what to do when bones scare you more than worms

back when i could breathe in public
you caught my eye
sucking on one end of a self rolled cigarette, what else?
that sweet smelling bag tucked back neatly in the pocket of your weathered coat
classical music intertwined with the smoke and haze
i bet you listened the whole time
your garbage bag suitcase had one small tear
and pieces of leaves were stuck in the mishmash of your jagged hair and rotten beard
the holes in my jeans let the breeze get me
but i didn't feel a thing
while i let my eyes do the examination