When You Look At Me

You are a lubricious rose-colored maturation of love

Surpassing time switches

An ambiguity of the mind

With a path straight inside

My heart

Passing Over

Roll in

Tell on me

I’m down

It could be called a, “choo-choo protocol.”

Not likely

I would like payment, “Please.”

A Drink With You

rake up
our
Meticulousness
as
inseparable
like
Night walking
and
off the hook
fucking

A WANTING

It has become up to me now to want you

I love you

I love you

I love you

It has become up to you now to want me

an implication

broken girl's swallow

And.....

grumbling between sheets of sweat and old cigarettes
apologetically i fumble with myself for hurting you

within my poetics
heart lurking expectations i hold you
only leaving you with sunburned kisses
i love you

i see long strides in your laughter
intelligence an art
a quench i hold
gulping
holding
knowledge continues

you are my flavor
now let me deliver

Spilling

old still grew fun
A
long delicious end of Sunday laughter

not done...just sitting

There had been a time when emotional value was enough and now it has turned into the proceedings of the following: Christmas, Valentines Days, Birthdays and Anniversaries. Has this compiled over time or is what realistically happens when a society devours magazines instead the good books and when the newspaper could quite possible be more bias then the news. This all reluctantly happens to us as we try to mature and become an ideal mate within out subconscious mind. I would not really like to stand for anything these days. I would rather just live; but when I have two jobs accusingly small for what the new world would order for us and pleasantly wiling to let me do everything half ass I have to ask myself why when I wake up at 5:30 am to shower and look pretty does it matter? Do I care? Yes, I care that my 7 to 2 job has people there that look at me. Yes, I care only because I would not want to buy makeup from a nasty looking sales person. Yet I do not care what color might look good on you or if your age resembles something from an eighties movie. I could really care less.


Though a satire on commercialism Terrie had more opinions about the world then she had blogs and time constituted its self as relative because she managed to do exactly what she wanted every second of the day. Terrie is one of those people that no matter how hard you try understanding you won’t. How they manage to skip work for calling in drunk and then show up anyway to only be told to go home, or can’t make a shift because her car got a scratch on it or the lengthy discussion that involved, “I used to be a stripper, I want to go back to school, I worked for a escort service….on and on…the things they say and do make you wonder how you have managed not to have the life they willingly live; Full attributes that signal only a…..catastrophe.

When Terrie was little she used to dress her sister up as a doll and stuff her into a doll stroller only to leave her there for sometime crying and sobbing while she played. Terrie used to tell people she was going to grow up and be a nun because her dad had told her that only jokingly when she was little and cute. Terrie lost her virginity in a tent and wanted to be a lesbian when she was 16 teen and thought it was cooler to be smart then to be popular.

Now Terrie is thirty and not quit willing to embellish on anything else.

Positioned just right over her counter eyeliner matched with its designated spot, hair became thick and managed, skin tone smeared and rearranged to look smoother, red panties were put on, figure being dressed and powdered: Degree, Rose Water, Berts and Bees face lotion, MAX eye shadow, skinny jeans, tall black boots, diamonded earrings, low cut top, toast, coffee and keys. Sounds came to her as she left for work.

Harmonica

In beds of now - X the sacks - HAUL

THE MAKING

copious defenseless man
tugging over forever

VOL>1

common woman
wrapped in rainbows

"His tender light."