To Clandestine Ana

I struggled against your words,
Waving orange- the color of a tie dye
Battle cry
Against you still.
A room divided (I thought it was about
Religion or something)
By rape,
just rape.
Now I watch you rename yourself
Clandestine Ana--
But I'm laughing
As I split my own pants with my ass
(Fatter 'en Texas).
 
 

The Present Complaint

I spent $13.00
(That I should have used for food)
On you.
On something very much for you.
You just complained
And left it carelessly aside.
But it was delicate,
The Present
And I should have realized that's
Unlike you or your
Present Complaint.
 
 

To Notice Me

I am writing this for
myself,
so let me write it and then I will
feel better.
You used to read my words-
Anticipate them even,
like my arrivals
that are now just
"more things to worry about."
I still love you,
But don't think I walk unnoticed through these halls
Anorexic wannabe sexy under a sports jersey.
In an attempt for you to see who I am,
I want you to see me some way.
To notice me.
So next time I'm too occupied,
Think about how I'd rather spend my time
On trivial things
Than spending a few moments with you.
 
 

Weep, but gently- for George Harrison and fans

Weep, but gently
because the lonliness I feel
without that guitar is the worst.
He waseyed, civilized
too glorified.
Ready.

Weep, but gently
If you know the grave is not final
And if you don't,
We'll hold hands.

Weep, but gently
For prayers and fields and laughter
Are the same thing anyway.
 

The Shortest Way To Tara

I want a place that smells like my own
With you at every concert
And inspiring them all.

I want a family for Christmas-
Not the arts and crafts
puttogether fall
apart
getup she's created.

I want a holiday that isn't holy,
But they say the shortest way
To Tara is by Hollyhead.
Things are gray,
And I think the sky would still be
if it hadn't turned so black
And now I need to sing in blue

I want no audience
Except for you.
 
 

Complaints

It's 11 PM and I have
2 of 15 pages done.
They're speaking in Chinese again,
like the women in the bank
That won't let me deposit money
Into my own account.
The fan is drying my contacts up
(I lost my glasses)
but the computer overheats without it.
I have PMS
And 15 pages of procrastination
Just like I did so many lines
ago.

Writing Main