Isolation Nation. Population: ?

it is odd, watching you try to cram 

yourself into the weak frame of another person. 

taking all their insecurities and wearing them as your own, 

but not in a protective or slightly loving way, 

in an obsessive and crazed kind. 

isolation nation, population two

or possibly only one. 

two faced, and not in a catty way 

this isn't high school musical 

cause you're just a mean girl 

but, you, you look just the same 

with a tomboy slant on a pair of rubber bands. 

gross. and ill watch you two bounce 

and crash hard into one another, 

a pair of moths with no flame, 

but everyone around you definitely enraged.

Highlighted Like a Fact

sitting on the floor, 
throwing cigarette butts 
up towards the disco ball. 
their red tips look like 
lipsticked fish kissing 
the shards of mirrored glass that fit 
so clumsily amidst it's sphere. 
i watch the smoke catch the light 
and i allow the beauty to explode into me. 
i feel the airy ways flick at me like tentacles 
on a radioactive jellyfish 
and i am certain that if anything makes sense, 
it is this right now. 
the scratch of the lighter signifies light, 
and as if a horny teenager 
desperate for alone time, 
i am highlighted like a fact in a textbook.

Enemies, Welcome

empty bird cages 

house my thoughts

all my enemies welcome 

to the boiling pot

systematic lane changes

i don't give a what?  

think you're being puny, 

of course you're not.. 
word game, world game, 

scrabblin' your brain
..and the lack of imagination 

is no gain all loss

 weak sauce, your toss. 

careful of the edge, 
i heard the last guy that fell over ended up dead.

Puppy Love Drowned in the Punch

to charm motorways and allow you to go away,
far away, and drown in all this profoundness 
that you think you have obtained 
while you've kept body and mind detained
build the walls of your 
welfare castle and tuck all your tiny 
belongings into perfect 
boxes and there i see in a 
coffin of misshapen rust is a soul 
you might have once 
owned but now sold for 
a cash cow of lust
puppy love drowned in the punch
drunk is the trust that has been ill-invested,
bankrupt of oneself if was bound to happen, 
if there was even an original you from the start, 
puppet fornication playing house in borrowed dress up

Lego Love Lockdown

He moves his arm in an upward motion, like a movie scene karate chop in reverse. A faint hint of bubble gum comes off his cuff and embraces my senses and I am immediately drawn to this stranger. He isn't shaking my hand but I feel like I want to reach out and try, just in case he might want too. He is speaking very quickly and quietly to my colleague, I am trying to read his lips but I don't know how to read lips. Before I know it, their conversation is over, queue the reverse karate chop and whiff of bubble gum. He turns to go. I plead with everything inside me that he will look at me and like to chunks of Lego our eyes lock.

Overtime the Lego pieces add up and continue to build this structure. Each date almost creates a snapping sound of colourful plastic chunks interlocking; a dinner and a movie, a walk in the park, an exhibit at the gallery... snap, snap, snap. It isn't solid, but the weight of my words can't seem to knock away any of the pieces. The structure looses it's bubble gum scent quicker than expected. The Lego becomes dull and eventually I am searching for one of those window inserts so I can see beyond the structure and maybe even see myself, through Lego eyes, in the tiny plastic reflection.

Swoon Over Young Thugs

Sometimes I just want to swoon over young thugs. They're so tough yet so kind. They have a way with loyalty that is so cut and dry that you almost wish you could apply it to everything in your life. The essence of living in a young thug thrives off the times and embeds reason and passion with an intensity as sharp as knives. Their toughness doesn't even diminish their character, it highlights their beliefs and displays them on the cuff of a pair of jeans that seem too big but might just be housing all the personality, conflict in denim.