coming soon

to a theatre near you
in your head
a story about you and me
divided by a split second
in space, called decision

dont miss out
you will be captivated
by real life
and whimsical dreams
of love and heartbreak and happy endings

monday night $1 beer

dressed in black
ur sweet face
take his seat
smile at me
join me
slow
awkward
beautiful
i should go
on my bike
grasp my lock
ur face was unforgettable

everything becomes nothing

stretched along this couch
eyes strain teared and open
red panties and pink tank wrinkle at my skin
as my fingertips dance at my navel
daydreaming
dreaming
streaming
music
playing
can u hear me?

rain

my thin blouse revealing my teal tank under
letting the damp hair at my cheeks
i look unkept, and bright, and carefree
maybe i look crazy?
no, that guy just did the 180
maybe he likes crazies?
I appproach the 5 dollar umbrella stand
but my green shoes proceed, passed
as water drips from my nose
fluttered eyes, I give the sky my face
In return it takes my thoughts
my fears, my doubts.
and gives me the rain...pouring rain.

bunnys hop

Bunnies hop and they hop...and are undeniably, irressistably cute.
that's what they do best and not much more.

revelations

they happen.
an awakening...my happy awakening.
im leaving for a bit.

coulda...woulda...shoulda

the last laugh out loud...lover of egg whites.
i still smile.
running bagels and sweet cream cheeses.
still smile.
show me off in vegas
pitch me a tent in washington
stroll my hand in new york
sing the prelude to me
on june 21...then july 21.
sept. 21 will be...my forever.

dabda's 2nd 'D' rant

you want a piece of this?
tell me someone who doesnt
hot
smart
funny
sweet
charming of course
take a piece of this
steal it
violate it
destroy it
then toss it back to me
ther are a thousand pieces to go around
.
.
.
all a perfect fit

unchartered territory

i am not a creature of regret
but it seems there is room to learn new tricks
mistakes have always been a tool to learn from
but it seems there wasnt a place for this one

scars

it's been a long time since i fell so hard and scabbed so badly...if ever

self portrait: 11 years in the making

I created once, when i was 18, a painting of my psyche.
the nude figures in the background i had to paint in my bedroom at home. this a was a bit difficult...trying to paint and pose at the same time. they were nice and fluid and warm hues...
The figure of my face, in the foreground. painted with studio lighting. protrayed by blue hues, colder and distorted. easier to paint and more accurate.

shoveling snow

hands grip this wooden shaft
fingers numb as we try to stay awake
feet sinking deeper
looking around for that summer sun
as it pierces through the breeze
eyes fluttering
lips creasing
hands falling
as a breath passes these dry lips
i inhale the spring air

the morning after

swallow this bitter pill
rays dancing on my desk
breezes at marys hair
metal music at my ears

swallow this pill and suffocate on it!
gag on it! cry over it!
until my body has ceased to feel
this soul has lifted beyond the skin
until the very thing that was
is no more

swallow it until the saliva dries
and nothing can grow
except this vanishing hope
that I am not what was

loving flaws

when mistakes are made and more love is given for them.

overconsumption

the love they give...i take.
glasses of golden liquid
cinnamon rays i kiss
moving images i read
all of it
i take it all for me
because i can
because you let me
because you want me

when physical is the illusiona and thought is what IS
i can be somewhere else
listening to the strumming of this guitar
feeling my foot tapping on a differnet wooden chair
i could be alone

MIA without report

when an inch apart still feels far away.

"smoke" break

people have their own way of coping with things. doesnt seem i cope with things..i keep my distance long enough to forget. i donot delete the person nor do i get angry, i just wait, they will get tired and leave me...well most do. the ones that stick around, well they stick around. i like those people, the forgiving ones to my moments off the map.

more seem to be sticking around these days. i'm not sure why.

swell

rising from the pit of my stomach
feasting on lemon rinds and black coffee along the way
bulding to the throat into a suffocating dryness
swelling into the figment of my imagination

a mere catalogue of memories of things seen and unseen:
a conservatory,
a field,
stairs,
parcel deliveries,
an island,
wind turbines,
a blue couch (i think)...

feeling the loss as i debate, grey? or blue?

body fluid overload

thanks friend...hand me that stick...as i stand over this pulp and liquify it to non-existence. maybe this time...yes! yes! holy fuck! yes!
god that felt fucking good...anyone wanna piece of this?!?!?
cmon!
please!
crazed. panting. swinging for takers as the tears welt at these eyes...
anyone?

closing time

last call for alcohol...and i sit staring at those great eyes as my hand gestures the extra round. lost in them...in the clear potions and brown eyes. intoxicated...infatuated.
words that leave those lips lost in the midst of lust covered in liquid love. digital red lines marking the point of near return. blue walls and reminding mirrors.
familiar gazed smile creeps over my lips. my hand stroking my thigh slow and deep.
brushing my hair with their perfect cheek and a goodbye.

migrating cynicism

waking up, the windows were fogged when i looked out. ordinary. cold.
but that clumsy bird made its way to my sill again.
'NOT NORMAL' the bird was labeled today.
"rather refreshing" i thought.
indeed, as cool as the wind that flooded the room.
perched on my shoulder through the day peeping its thoughts away.
it was patient in my movements and happy with my doings
so where did this 'NOT NORMAL' come from?
lets ask our imaginary friends

re-tro-duction

so it seems i need to break the ice with myself. it's been the longest and most uncomfortable and awkward elevator ride lately. the music keeps getting worse and each floor "ding" more nervous.
"might take a long time" he says
"what will" she asks
"the ride...to heaven...that is where you're going...right?"
and the ice was broken...badly...
but broken nonetheless.

mira me mi muerte moderna

the selfish-girl tantrum

the mood seems to be this very girly-girl mood... not the one that thinks in pink, but the girly-girl that believes in girl power and taking what belongs to her.. that no matter what, happiness and true self should outweigh any sense of tradition or right & wrong. that only she matters and the journey to herSELF.

-watermelon is healthy with an avocado, egg , and bacon sandwich.

no point entry 002

the girl named luci that seemed to have that undeniable spark that made you proud that she still existed somewhere...it was her sense of self expression and taking no prisoners in its action that made her so exquisite.
that every single one of her emotions, no matter how minute or dreadful, manifested into something tangible or visual or vocal...
she had such magic for creation.

thxluku 4 lykke

when you cant scream "i love you!!!" loud enough, say it really softly and hope it's truely heard by the heart.

soulja boyyyyyyyy

"watch me crank it, watch me roll"
pumping down the street from a boombox on a perfect scene brooklyn avenue. they were about 10 yrs old, these three kids...lookin straight out of a music video. and i couldnt help but smile at their youth and determination to emulate what they heard on the radio, seen on a tv show.
didnt have my camera but im sure they would have given me their best posse pose.

http://imgs.xkcd.com/comics/graduation.jpg