i should be sleeping

Recovery is sometimes difficult. I will speak of greater details when the time is near.

Poor Habits Keep Well

i know a tiny birdie,
and my baby talks alot,
a beak that tastes of brandy,
oh those words come down so hot,
the cage is halfway broken,
and almost falling from the hook,
i know my tiny birdie isn't reading from the book,
the one i wrote like madness on a pitiful white night,
as i screamed and drooled on everyone who resembled sudden fight,
licking powdered sugar off the beak,
winter fowl shan't lose the war,
of pricks and prose and shattered bowls that will always be no more.

Brown Eyes

are the loneliest eyes in the sea
of heads and holes and everything but the ghost
brown eyes,
should never be misread, for every other color is a lie
hold thy brown eyed mixture in your large, bony twigs
stemming from the chain of your hands to your chest
and never mouth your part ever again.
brown eyes,
can't stumble on a rock, flicking you from the ground
they blend with the dirt...ah ha, with the dirt
promise me and your brown eyed friend
that you should never give to the others again.
meet me, brown eye to brown eye, over the juice and the gin.
meet me, brown eye, over jamba juice and gin.

Sun so Hot

Twenty Three thoughts have made their way between each lobe.

First, oh dear, i fear the big one in the sky. The gods all hide in the sun on days like today. There is no spit left on your tongue and people have shed their eyelids. Snakes fall from your forehead. And yet i fear the night much better!

Second, fallen from the corner of ceiling and the west wall comes two webs, or what is left of them. I'm close to calling it but one web, but my instincts show me otherwise. There are marks on my skin from two distinct sets of teeth.

Third, she's in a bad mood, but i won't fall for it.

Fourth, "bathroom, bathroom, you're in the bathroom. bathroom, bathroom...." Luxor, Las Vegas. ---bathroom music across from Blue Man Theatre

Five, things like these things you've got me thinking make me frightfully sick. Dread and excitement give me such similar mini-strokes. My head has gone, all thanks to you.

Six, i love some for their brilliance, i love some for their charm, i love with a heart sans concern nor any harm. I am positively positively positively. Word.

Seven, summers like this one remind me of one particular summer. It was stronger than most, everyday hot, hot, hot. Not unlike the title of a pretty average, if not below average, Cure song.

Eight, i've sent a memorandum especially to you. Check under your desk, maybe hidden in the folders, set your coffee to the side, for i am trying to do something here. You're the best thing since nineteen eighty three.

Nine, want to know of what i speak? Then call my house, call me now. I won't answer, see, i screen my calls. Keep your secrets away from the press.

Ten, bottles of beer on the wall, ten bottles of beers had a great fall, ten bottles of beer, ten bottles of beer, couldn't be put back together again.

Eleven, my thoughts are running fancier.

Twelve, imagine backed up sewage pulsing toward your face as you lean your tummy against the marble. imagine having toothpaste falling from the bottom of your chin, imagine how much time it will take you to brush your teeth normally again.

Thirteen, i have beautiful friends and even better enemies.

Fourteen, the observation was a faint one and there were many references. There are distinctions between each terrain. Put on your glasses, dear, for you look so luscious. I'd bring you some tea if i knew it could put you in the mood like it once did.

Fifteen, pardon the mundanity. I dwell in a well of confusion. My name rhymes with many words that meet my acquaintance quite frankly. I have not dabbled in the voodoo root. My supply has been dry for weeks. I miss you with it. bell, well, resell, dwell, fell, quell, zifandel, pretell, retell.......

Sixteen, i'd be happier if i could ensure success.

Seventeen, theres something in the sky that breathes over my shoulder. I believe there are secrets in her breath. If i smothered it, it would keep me centered between a well-behaved ocean line.

Eighteen, you are officially invited onto my aircraft carrier. Stand by the pier and i will call for you. Use your nautical wisdom, and leave the plastic on land.

Nineteen, i am making 2 lists of everything we need to know. One i keep under my bed between the pages of literature and the other i have written in our secret code. You will be notified when the appropriate organs have failed. Keep your eyeglass prescriptions current. There will be little time for interpretations.

Twenty, give me the statistics of love. I have pending proofs in the work. More input.

Twenty one, i am oyster girl. Read your books again and i'll read mine. We'll remember at the exact same time. It will be as if we live together again.

Twenty two, i prayed on my knees today. I didn't know who to direct my prayers, so i swallowed them whole.

Twenty three, take me back to the sixties where they held each others in cotton dresses. Everyone looked more like a kid, everyone had an accent, everything seemed a little duller in color, primrose was the solvent of choice. Take me back to when the sea brimmed with energy, and the possibilities still included everything so unbelieveably spacious. I miss you so much. Bring me back to life again or i will seek it elsewhere.

Bologna--The Silliest word since Turin

Remember my theories on Age 23? I was so wrong. I should have looked for the bigger picture and opened my scope onto 26. Maybe it's something about primes. Ps. 26 is not prime, you fucking fool.

Lame

I can't say everything i have to say in 3 minutes. I guess i'll just have to stick with, "sup".

i just want some leonard cohen on the juke, port in my mug, and you on my mind.


i don't feel sad, just reminicent. It's nice to rejoice in these moments due to the lack of permanency in both my mood and life.

my guitar misses the high life, while my mind misses the car ride.

Bring on the flounder, bring on the candle drippings.

This is the season of orange blossoms. Aren't they sympathetic?

Power, power, power, there lies all the power. Yr little babies are missing me. And I miss them.

I'm the proud owner of a second thought. Thank heavens, thank heavens, thank heavens for little girls. Forgive me, i'm tender, not lonely.

Bang on my drums some more, i miss all the noise. I was so young, you were so young, we were so young in one.

If i were to take, i'd mistake for sure. Yes, for you, anything.

Dictionary

yallo--the color of the Walmart circle guy with the zorro mask
juan--preterite tense of win
woof--wannabe dog, canine creature
carnibal--the home of carnies
bollyball--the game of geeky beachers

Yr white little secrets

i remember what you did last summer, last summer, i remember what you did.
i remember what you did last december, last december, i remember what you did.
i remember all yr something specials, something special now.
i remember, i remember what you'd say after hearing these secrets said.
i remember what you did last summer, last summer, i remember what you did.
G5, A5, Em

come here, little secret, little secret safe.

F#5, A#5, G5

PottyMouth

A man walks into a bar. Something about him looks a little racist. You can't really put yr finger on it. He's laughing something loud and you want his box of raisins. See, but the thing is, that you hate raisins, their breads, bagels and slaws. But his manaical chatter makes you want them so bad. You decide to he doesn't deserve those raisins, only peanuts. Your shirt gets caught on a sharp screw which makes you consider slamming yr hand right through it. As you begin to psyche yrself out for some serious hand pain, you begin to laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh. Because Sherin is there and she's pouring the little red box into the man's mouth. At first, only this makes you laugh. It's a funny picture. Though it's not until you come into her range that you can hear her chanting in a deep voice, "i wanna go potty in yr mouth, i said I wanna go potty in yr mouth."


I had just spoken to her in the first time in months, so i guess she was on my mind.

You think you got me there, ay?

Hey, remember that one? I bet someone does, somewhere.

StarSearch

dear sir, there are things you need to know, but you'll never know. Not from me, you won't.
it is a wonderful, yet terrible shame.
dear sir, ideas are fanciful, you should visit sometime,

those walks are beautiful.
Knats in yr nose give you strength.

i'd invite you in, but you'd only contrast. you feed me mealworms.

i flirt with conceit, but only subrosa.

those vertical knees you spoil, why stand, my FF?

Just remember, i knew you first, and it ain't never gonna change.

you mimic the worst in me.

Foul Territory

I can't wear yr shoes anymore, they don't fit.

Axxxxxxxxx speaking, how can i help you?

(robotic voice of a lifetime smoker describes a problem)

Please submit the changes in writing and they will be fixed.

(voice blames company, refusals)

Okay, please hold.

(voice remains speechless)

Phone rings again. Just minutes till closing, voicemail.

Incompetent: Please pick up the phone.
Axxxxxxxxx: At the moment, I cannot speak to the robot.
I: It's not a robot, it's a human being. This man is disabled.
Axxxxxxxxx: It is not a man.
I: You insensitive.....
Axxxxxxxxx: It is a woman, and i'm not retarded.


This day will not end, i fear. Ever.

Filth

I can't get comfortable after spending 63 minutes attempting to fix that jilted sidebar. It's not fixed, and my eyes are dry and I blame the settings. I can't blame mozilla, or explorer or whatever the fuck the wretched AOL uses. I don't know the names of things, or how these nameless objects taunt me. This must be what down-syndrome feels like. While everyone assumes you're too dim to know the pain of limitation, you just focus on memorizing the buttons on your microwave. And though you may not distinguish the whispers, you can feel the hunger at the slip of a fingertip.

Dear Diary

Buraucracy--A haiku

Official Business
it's horribly exhausting
i wish i was dead

PS, diary, Moto said haikus don't got to be all syllable-esque and shit.