Black and White

As I step outside I smell that familiar tint of burning ember.

The cold whips me in the face,
as my nose crinkles into that black and white scarf that belonged to my dad.

I refuse to buy a new one,
because to me, their is a familiarity and history with this one,
so I will do anything to preserve and protect it as long as I can.

Often times people turn their back on the old
and drown themselves in the excitement of new and shiny,
because to them, the old and used is dirty and dingy.

These people often justify that by ridding themselves of the old,
it will help them move on and begin a new life for themselves,
rather than cling to the old one.

Sometimes we all need to remember the sins of our fathers,
and the haunting pasts.

Without these memories or thoughts,
we can sometimes forget who we are,
and let arrogance drown our former selves.

Smiling

Lonely Girl,
I see you.

You flash that brilliant smile
and shake your violent hair
but the pain is evident
and I worry for your sanity.

We can only fake it till we make it so long,
before the seething black liquid runs its course
hardening your veins,
heightening your blood pressure
and destroying your true self
along with everyone you know.

Stop trying so hard to be seen
and except the emptiness that follows inevitable loss.

We all want to be happy,
but happiness can sometimes be the familiar,
the unexpected,
and the beauty in simplicity.

Accept it,
learn to love,
then end it.

Babs

Snowy steps,
and icy air,
encapsulate every fiber in my bones.

Instead of sulking alone,
I cook a four course meal,
pour a glass of chilled Sauvignon Blanc,
and dance to that old song spinning in my head.

I find the temptation to cruise the Internet and feel bad for myself,
admiring others lives that appear better than mine,
but suddenly realize theirs is equally terrible,
and they are simply basking in their five minutes of fame.

Soon all those feelings and happiness will fade
and the mundane will settle back in,
putting them in the same position as I.

No, I will not feel bad about my life,
because tonight it's just me,
my wine,
and Barbara.

Flee

I can't stop staring at the droplets of rain, as they slowly run down the back window of Timmy's shitty pick up truck.

Kim screams as a song comes on the radio. She turns it up. Tim naturally tries turning it off, but she slaps his hand and asks him if he wants to get some tonight. He hesitates, so she singes his hand with her cigarette and laughs. She looks back at me. I flash her a smile before taking a swig from the rest of my Jim Beam, concealed in the ever so sneaky brown paper bag it came in. 

The song has a decent beat. That, or the Beam is making me think so. 

Kim rolls her window down and reaches an arm out. Some excess rain hits me in the face, but I keep drinking. Tim shakes his head and rips the cigarette from her free hand. He takes a drag and eye fucks me in the rear view mirror. He motions for me to join her, but for some reason my legs are paralyzed.

"This is living" Kim screams as half her body exits the truck. She sits on the edge of the window, gripping the passenger side handle. "Faster!" she screams to Tim. 

He tells her to hold on, and speeds up. 

I feel like a mannequin in the back seat, so I drink a little more to loosen up. 

The truck is now passing by car after car. I should be scared, but I keep drinking.

Our turnoff is coming up. I wonder to myself if he will slow down, but don't say anything.

Kim tries standing, but stumbles a little. 

Tim laughs and yells "hold on bitch!"

He jerks the wheel and turns the pick up off the main road.

At first I think Kim is screaming in ecstasy, until I notice she's no longer in front of me. 

My eyes widen, but I remain paralyzed.

Tim slams on the brakes and unleashes a multitude of swears. 

He looks back at me and screams for me to get out of the truck. 

I shake my head no.

He reaches for my throat, but I fight him off. 

He hits the gas.

I look out my window for any sign of her, but it's too dark.

Headlights flash behind us. 

Another deafening song begins, but somehow I only hear her screams.

Donut

The trouble with love,
is it doesn't care how hard you fight,
how long you cry,
or how much you will it.

Like a tender muscle you just pulled,
love twists the knife until you bleed.

Once it sees red it draws back its malicious ways,
open you up,
and fill your soul.

It's similar to a custard filled donut.

You have to pierce the soft exterior,
to fill it with its thick, delicious ingredient.

Once it's implanted,
others can find that surprise,
 and savor it as much as you do.

Party Out Of Bound

This party is so lame. I can't believe Sheila begged me to be her wing woman. Sometimes I wonder what she'd do without me around. She'd probably find some other fat girl to follow her around and agree with everything she says. I bet she can't stand being alone. In fact, I know she can't. She's always going on and on about all the guys that talk to her, but she never asks about my life.Why do I put up with it? I suppose it's because I'm a masochist. Instead of standing here like a statue, maybe I should just dump this cup over her fucking head. What the hell is that guy looking at?


That girl looks really uncomfortable. I suppose it doesn't help that she's wearing a sweatshirt with a kitten on it. Maybe she's being ironic. I doubt it. Everyone else in this pretentious place is flaunting their idiotic-ness. God, I really hope Jim doesn't come here tonight. I can't handle seeing him with his new boyfriend. It's too soon. I guess it's my fault for falling for his shit. Everyone warned me. I suppose I should be wearing something ironic. It would fit the crime. What the fuck!


Oh my god! I can't believe I just spilled my drink on that guy. He looks pretty pissed. Maybe I should tell him what mama used to say about shit sticking to the bottom of a bum boot. I'm guessing he probably wouldn't understand it. Oh wow, look at Ricky. He's looking so damn good tonight. I wonder if anyone told him about me being a virgin. Oh well, can't sweat the small stuff. I guess I'd do it with him tonight if he was into it. I think I have more anxiety about what the guys thinking more than the so called pain in my peeper. I mean, girls all over the world are swiping their v-cards all the time. Some even younger than me. Thank god, I didn't...oh no. Here he comes.


Man I'm so shit faced. Is that girl with the pig tails staring at me? I think Julio said her name was Debby. I guess I don't have to say anything. Sounds like she's a talker. I don't know if I'm fucked up enough to sit here and listen to this bitch. I hate southern accents. Maybe she'll pick up that I'm not in to it and bounce. Okay, okay, smile and stop being a dick. She does have pretty decent legs. Oh shit! Is that Sheila over by the fat bitch? Man she's looking tasty. I gotta break away from this ho and hit her up. It's not a bad idea having a back up though. I'll get Debby's digits and figure it out later.


Is Ricky getting Daisy Dukes number? What a slut! Bigger and better things. I bet Rob's dick is bigger than his anyway. Jesus Christ, Jessica is bringing me down. Look at her, with her sad plastic cup of soda and her stained kitten sweatshirt. I really don't know why I throw pity to her. She's as useful as Atkins.  Still, maybe if I gave her a "She's All That" make over, she'll transform into someone fuckable. All I want is the Thelma to my Louise. Maybe without all the violence but damn did those two have fun. I'm better off hitting up Daisy Duke for some fun. Maybe then I could have Ricky before she does. She looks like she's used to having sloppy seconds any way. Man this party sucks.

Sunny Reflect

I look up to the sun drenched sky and wonder "what the fuck have I done with my life?"

Some of my friends can say they've bought a home, gotten married or had babies.

At times it feel like I'm not even present in my life. On days like today I step outside my body and float above the world I live in. There, I see what others might see.

Loneliness.

I used to be more than okay with it when I was a kid. I was left to my own inventions and over active imagination to fill the void.

I'd crave for those times I was left alone so I could explore my mind and create something special.

These days I feel outnumbered by these special things.

They tower over me and tighten their grasp on my soul until I lose consciousness.

When I wake I'm in a pool of my own emptiness.

Some blame depression and stress, but in a sense these negative feelings are healing.

They remind me I'm alive.

Unfortunately all I have to show for this life are mountains of unfinished work and an overly expressive dialogue.

Today I reflected.

On days gone past, the present in which I hate, and things to change my future.

All I've come to hope for is someone, or something, being inspired by my rants and ravings.

I truly believe that we're put here on this earth, to explore our own mind and body. In doing this we either go along with societies plan or create our own path to happiness. Once we pick our path, we realize we're meant to inspire and teach this knowledge to those unlucky in life.

Me; I am that unlucky bastard whose knowingly figured it all out.