tarantula.

yeah, bob dylan wrote a book called that. 

the published published a little something in the beginning. i found this at the end.

"poets & writers tell us how we feel by telling us how they feel. they find ways to express the inexpressible. sometimes they tell the truth and sometimes they lie to us to keep our hearts from breaking."

the truth. how i see it.

she wasn't a lion. or anything. but she sat alone picking at her nails on a humble bumbling brook within a tattered dream below the sinking sea amongst the unfriendly. following the trip and falling into the dangerous flowers within a field of concrete. she picked the finest color to dress her naked face and impressed the hobblers walking by. she threw the stones she caught from the hurlers who were hurt and dirty. she had made bananas out of their egos. but then one had come along and told her his was already made of chocolate. because she hated peanut butter.

my contacts are dry.

from all the tears.

today,

was felt.

it was born in the morning,

grew in the subway:

exploded in the hallway 

& released in a meisner scene. 

i made sergei cry. 

i wiped my eyes and my black mascara

stained my hand.

it won't wipe off. 

no matter how many times i wash.

i want to die hereafter. 

but i can't. 

my candle isn't out. 

stand clear of the closing doors.

hands trembling with guilt. 

they close.

picks up the pain: turns and goes.

this is not see you later.

one more stare with a different tension.

hands trembling with guilt. this is new. 

nothing to say. no words at least.

could have. should have. didn't.

could have. shouldn't have. did.

something went missing.

childhood dreams.

you know how they say your childhood is when you are the most honest?

when i was a child, i never saw a husband.

i dreamed about the wedding. but when the future came around.

i was always a single mom.

i write myself. for myself.

the reasons are (sometimes) forgotten when inspiration threads from a spindle

and draws blood from a self-inflicted prick 
of my ring finger

only i don't fall asleep. 

but something in me dies. 
and i could cry when i feel 

nothing

while desperately searching for,not the words,
but the something.


when i need the words the most, they leave me too (after the meaning).

and i'm left alone
to find the hope within
my own heart. 

i am lost within myself.

alice in wonderland.

i've started typing things backwards. i think about them in the correct order in my head and then i type them (with ease) backwards. i was searching for a quote by jack kerouac...and i type kacj acuorek in google without thinking. i'm not sure what that means. 

the more artistic i become, the more i see things: backwards.

there's a new girl named alice in our class. she proved herself in our first class of the second semester.

we had to sing for bela's class. first, we had to stand in front of the class and let everyone "look at us" we made eye contact a few times and then said our full names.

then our nick names or what we go by. 

then we had to sing. 

everyone sounded beautiful, especially stefanie.

annie & greg always sing loudly. we know they have good voices. but stef, well she pulls a james dean and sits there listening. i've heard her singing softly to herself sometimes and i always knew she could sing. but nobody else could.

and goddamn, she got up there and belted. 

"wow." everyone was totally impressed. she's very humble and modest. i really admire the fact that she doesn't feel the need to tell everyone everything. she keeps things to herself but happily shares when the time is right. 

i think it's more meaningful that way. 

but me, well, i gotta blog or ill lose my mind. or find it. 

i want to see what you see.

pink horizons in the middle of the night...

 and thousands of shadows

dressed in tacky white suits

standing on the tops of buildings in time square. 

not asking for anything. 

there's a mirage of green drops 

where tears should be.

but instead there's a smile.

because they can feel what you feel. 

you see

blinking lights on a parking garage at 4 am 

and full illumination in the building next to it.

i see

one light.

and an empty, dark apartment building. 

if only it was that simple.

i found 16 dollars the other day on the ground.

two weeks before i found a phone, i noticed because it was pink. i texted someone and the owner called, picked it up and gave me ten dollars. i didn't even want it.

the same day, a couple tipped me 5 dollars at south pacific. 

i got paid for being lucky, doing what i felt was right and smiling.

sdrawkcab

let's take a walk. b a c k w a r d s. on a beat.

but forward in time. 

one foot behind the other. 
& if you fall:
at least
it won't be on your face.

because odds are, no one 
will be there
to catch you. 

unless you dare to hope 
& try your luck
and ignore that voice 
in your head saying,

"perhaps it's best to keep your balance."