Surfing the Internet in a Mermaid Tail

She wore butterfly wings and a mermaid tail.
For she wanted to feel both the highs and lows of her existence
and she wanted to be beautiful while she did it.
She preferred talking to people on the Internet
because she wanted their words and not their emotion,
she feared what their words might actually mean and their tones
would define that and she wanted to be with them
in the same glow of the browser.
She surfed the Internet with her mermaid tail.
The only high she got was high scores on Internet games.
All of her friends were virtual, swapping viral diseases
of information all the while
being so misinformed in a fish bowl of strangers.

She Mispronounces Truth and Leaves Lies

She's present with her dislocated sentences.
Everything has become a run on sentence,
so far gone she can't keep up.
The grammar for which she chooses
seems to be picked out like clothing
yet she has horrible taste.
She mispronounces truth and leaves lies.
A question with no matter or facts
but a blank canvas to present exquisite intricacies.
Without keeping all the ducks aligned
she surely creates a wayward pond
of moments without punctuation.
For the question mark
has certainly become
her first and last name
and any character that was salvageable
has fallen through all the holes in an endless labyrinth,
a ruthless path of mediocrity and boredom.
And she surely could not recite her story for you
from start to finish because the plot is always changing
and she hasn't figured out when exactly she should finish.

Blue for Her

He wanted to be blue for her;
She looked better next to the aquamarine of the ocean,
Under the indigo smear of the twilight sky,
she was luminous and warm,
The morning sky she awoke to held opportunity,
She was better connected when the navy sky was interrupted
with cracks of lightening and burps of thunder.
He wanted to be blue for her.
He wanted to be her ocean and twilight
her warmth and opportunity
he wanted to be her calm and storm.
He was determined to be her Blue.

Shipwreck On Our Beaches

Your lies are unraveling one at a time. The disguises are dissolving, untying the ties. Your clock has run up all of it's time displaying the ugliness of your ill devised manner. It must've gotten hot for your mascara is running, actually wait, your plastic is melting, leaving you looking exactly how you are. All the glam and the glory the dye and the clothing the words and the wishes you've thrown into our atmosphere are hitting your face like a crater of responsibility. You're a shipwreck on our beaches and we're trying to ignore all the wasted pieces.

Coffee Women

She was looking for a man with all the qualities she knew she liked;

a tall one,

dark but she'd go for a blonde,

warm and timely,

she wanted them to be there

in the morning, afternoon, and evening, but not too late..

she wanted them instantly,

and didn't want to share,

she wanted them at home

and on the go, she wanted

to see them before she

went to work,

she wanted to take them on walks

and share tiny desserts..

 

she was beginning to settle,

for she realized everything she

wanted in a man was in a cup

of coffee.. and a cup of coffee

was just as hot and likely to burn her..

a cheaper risk for warmth.

 

Pre-Drink

Of course, you have to pre-drink. 

You must fully approve of the act of saving money 

by getting partially/equally wasted in the 
comfort of your home

 for half the cost so you only have to 
spend the other half 

while your out to even the buzz instead of 

going out sober and spending a 
solid double,

 even triple the money on booze. 

It's best money saver I know.

Eyes Go Glazed

looking through dirty windows

i see my breath cling to the pane,

trying to match my pain i think of

what is happening on the other side

(can they see me) i dont try to hide

i like the way the gunk on the window

and my reflection seem to become one i now look the way i feel 

..there is

a certain kind of silence and sound

that is happening as i watch everything unfold in front of me, 

behind a dirty window you seem to

turn towards me but i can't line up your vision (are you even looking at me) 

or through me and through the dirty window all at once (i call to you) 

but you cannot hear me for the dirt has muffled my sounds so i stare at you 

and them and her and everyone as you all seem to kind of stare at 

me i dont realize you will never come for me 

until the dirt cakes over over and my eyes go glazed.

Equally Weak and Strong

dripping differences

time is beginning to grow slower, yet still quickens 

looking at everything half empty, when in actuality 

there is some fullness to the lies that i have spun

there is a bed, i bed i will probably lay in

if i get around to it

ive grown so tired

of all the misconceptions and all the ballgames

ive lost something

or i want something

and i dont know what it is

or what to do 

or how to obtain it

but i will try, 

to cut the ties

to all the bullshit.

and rise to some other occasion

perhaps make up my own

for a celebration is in order

i am constantly growing stronger and weaker everyday 

Breathing to Create

Quiet pitter patter inside my mind telling me to create, and as I create I am inspired to breathe. And breathing keeps me seeing. Lately I've been so in the dark. Struggling for air. Only this stand still can become so destroying, tearing me apart. Turning the engine to a revving red light. I want to breathe. Therefore, I need to create.