Wackity wack

haha i think this one's kinda funny...

Wanting to assimilate,
dying to proliferate,
I need to be free,
goddamnit i need to be me.
Bar hopping and booty popping,
two things I don't do.
Not because I don't want to,
but more because I'm confined.
Confined behind these invisible lines
you've built up around me.
It's not that I don't love you,
because trust me baby, I do,
It's just that I need to be free,
oh dear, I need to be me.


That was my sad attempt at rhyming and now this is some other crap.

My misconception of what poetry is
has been blinding my guiding light
to feeling happy.
Enveloped in my past and only the bad,
I haven't let myself feel happiness.
It has prevented me from laughing
as hard as I know how to,
and not worrying about having a boyfriend,
instead of enjoying the happiness surrounding me.
I want to smile,
genuinely,
and say cheese.
From now on, I will.

homework

homework is not being done right now. i's 2:50 am and i should be writing up this paper. It has to be seven pages and i have one and it's due in twelve hours. Let's say ten cuz 2 of those hours I have class so they don't even count. So I'm not sleeping tonight. It's cool, I'm not sleepy right now anyway, although I did feel like throwing up all night and I just ate a tuna fish sandwich in hopes that it would subdue my weeeiiirrdd stomach pattern and it did. Deelicious! I'm talkin to esther and des even thooo I shouldn't even be on aim! IF it wasn't for the need of the internet for my resources, I would've fucking disconnected this shit and done this while sittin on my floo'.

LEt's talk about life cuz I think my poetry doesn't show the many spectrums of my life. A "friend" told me that I should stop writing like sad poems because then people will think that I'm just complaining. He has a point but I can't seem to write a good, optimistic poem; is that wrong? I feel like it's a giant flaw I have. I feel like if I write something happy, it's super cheesy, even more cheesy than my sad stuff. And I will try to start off with a happy poem and then it ends with my heart shattered. I think it's because that's what usually happens in life anyway. Wow, how could I write so much in like 5 minutes but my paper I've been attempting to write for like 4 hours?!

Why do I keep recycling my bfs? It seems like when there's no where else to turn, I turn to an ex and hope to rekindle some kind of anything! I need to stop because then I confuse myself. And they're an ex for a reason, right? Right!

This weekend I wanna go out, party harty, chill with my homies! To my troopers out in college..hurry home sonnnsss! Ok, I'm actually gonna get crackin on this paper. Woorrdd

Old poems

1.Sometimes it's hard to breathe.
I forget to breathe.
I think about a shitload of things.
And there's just so many things.
My heart races.
And my brain races.
My stomach hurts and churns
Then I throw up because it churns.
I'm temppted to put my fingers down my throat.
And sometimes I just want someone to grab me by my throat.
Writing calms be down.
And writing brings me down.
Lately I've been really tense.
Smoking helps but once the cigarete burns out, I'm back to tense.

2.Waiting for him to walk by me.
Look into me and stop. Stare.
A beautiful stare.
He's not looking at my face, opr my hair.
Or my piercings, or my clothes.
He's looking into me.
Into my soul.
Beyond now, beyong everything.
He'll take my breathe away,
and when he smiles, i'll fly.
My shy wings will spread and flutter.
His spread too, and I feel whole.

3.It's almost how surreal how real this pain feels.
I can barely thing straight and I have to push my self to deal.
Broken hearted and with only time on my hands,
All I can do is clean these pots and pans.
Over and over, time after time
I clean and I think how badly I want you to be mine.
These emotions i easily hide,
and with them not visible, it's easy to get by.
omg i hate rhyming

4.

Mommy dearest

These are ones that I wrote after a somewhat arguement with my mother last night.

I don't want to be mad at you,
I know it's not your fault,
it's who you are.
And I shouldn't be so cold,
because one day you'll be gone,
and I'll be lost.
And that's why I've stayed.
Fear of losing you has held me back
from exploring the world
and starting a revolution.
I've always been a good girl,
under your wings, hanging out.
Now I want wings of my own,
but there isn't enough room for both our wings.
You've taught me all the good things,
and even your pet peeves have stayed with me.
Tomorrow, I won't go out.
I promise mami, I love you.


Y entonce esta este,

As I sat there,
trying to express my feelings to you,
I rolled, unrolled, rolled, unrolled
my manly white tube socks.
Over and over again until I stopped.
Until I noticed a lynt on the sheets and focused on that.
I couldn't look you in the eyes,
or even look at your face.
And now, laying in my own bed,
I noticed my rolled sock
and as hard as I tried to fight it,
a tear slipped from my eye.
After endless minues of resistence, I cried.
I just hope I didn't make you cry.
Staring at this sock I think of things I should've said,
shouldn't have said,
and I wonder...if I should've said anything at all.

Pretending

I was pretending,
Pretending that your venomous kiss
was my recluse, and mine alone.
Only I didn't know it was pretending,
or that I wasn't alone in the delusion.
::Don't cry out; cease fire::
I had fun, you say you did too.
You want the fun to be everlong,
but I can't pretend.
At least not for now.
Maybe later I'll come out to play.
Out of this cacoon of memories
and voices yelling, "Break me."