Thursday, December 8, 2011

Bulletproof Shell

Cold prickling
Heart crinkling
Hurry down across the hall.
For just a while,
I'll fake a smile--
I have no pride before my fall.

Sweep through the walk
Until, like chalk,
I'll simply wash away.
No impressions there,
Without one care,
Not hearing what I say.


I stand just over
5 feet tall
And so I shouldn't
Weigh much at all,
--Or so the doctors tell me.

Plastered on my
TV screen,
I hear exactly
What they mean
About the ideal female Body.

26-or something-
Different types
But 25 are
Worth the gripes
About the XX shape

Personality matters--
Just no more
Than how much you have
From head to floor--
And there is no escape.

I look to Jenny
And Dr. A
As I try to figure out
What to say
To the voice that says that
I could lose a few...
What's a girl to do?

Eat 500
Never ever
Forget to say,
"The dressing ON THE SIDE."

30, 26,
24, 22,
Til you don't know
What happened to you,
Or how you're still so wide...
Oh, what a ride.


Flip through the storybook
Read about these girls:
All beautiful, all smart,
All humble and all heart,
Lovely as a string of pure white pearls.

Flip through adventure books
Read about these heroines:
All spunky and all brave,
All sexy (yet all behave),
Not one destines as a 'has-been'.

Flipping through the book of life,
Read about these drones:
All smoke and all eyes,
All talk and all lies,
But they know we all end up alone.

The Fathomless Deaths of the XYs

3 strikes and I'm out,
This game never ends,
I'll primp and I'll pose
At what my life sends.

But sooner or later
It gets a bit late,
It gets a bit tired,
And I get irate.

They're all the same,
And it's only for show,
They'll fight and they'll flirt,
And then off they'll go.

So I'll watch and I'll wait,
With my hair up in clips,
As I paint Monets
On my fingertips.


Bent glass and
Shattered plastic--
Cold impossibilities.

Twanging strings and
Shaking hands,
Colliding on white keys.

Warped and twisted,
Brick red stones
Above the fireplace,

A cracked frame and
A broken shoe,
A lockless, damaged case.

Blackjack Regrets

Memories that aren't quite mine,
A different day, a different time,
A different way things should've gone.

A slightly altered history,
How it changed--a mystery--
So different as the days go on.

I am lost, it would seem,
In the soft folds of a dream,
And waking up is oh-so-hard,

I get to see the end, the 'fin',
And how it might-have-been
If I had checked my hand and played a card.


Shreds of a dress and
Dusty pumpkins,
Sitting with the rats.

Tears unshed and
Broken slippers,
Yellow, unchanged cats.

It doesn't do to
Sit alone and
Wait for someone to come,

Because magic wands and
Faerie Godmothers
Only appear to some.

Personal Responsibility

I know I'm to blame,
Know I'm lazy and proud,
I'm immature, stupid,
Witless, and loud.

I had so many chances
And I blew them one-by-one,
I waited far, far too long,
And now my chances are done.

Opportunities fell
Like grainlets of sand,
But I closed my eyes
And opened my hand.

The sand drained out,
And it was all for naught,
Because now they're just gone
And I'll be forgot.

Just Ask For Directions

Come help me and
We can wash
Reality away.

When real life
Takes a break, then
Fantasy comes out to play.

Dreams and wonder,
Clouds and glass,
Roses and true love,

Because you know that
It's hard to stay grounded when
Dreaming of what's above.

And there's no map, no GPS,
And nothing's quite
Like it seems,

Because it's so easy
To get so lost when you
Wander around in daydreams.

Stuck on what
Could be and on
What might maybe happen,

It's so nice to
Slowly sink before
Reality pulls you back in.

So I'll fantasize
And theorize
About all my dreams, and hope,

'Cause it kills me softer
Than the gun and
Quicker than the rope.

Like Rain on your Wedding Day

I can't call it
Anything but funny,
The irony of this.

It's been so long
Since I knew
What happened--
What did I miss?

All I wanted
Was to be gone
To be anyone
Anybody at all,

But right as I
Finished packing
You came down
And so did Fall.

The cruel irony
Of fate never
Stops making me
Laugh a little,
So here's a riddle;

If you become who you were,
Instead of who you'd be,
Is there still a change?
Or am I just me?

And if what you wanted
And what you got
Don't match up,
Has fate forgot

What you created yourself
To be?
The irony is killing me.

I built up walls,
Hid my guns,
Protected from

And yet I
Tore them down
And gave up

I was so safe
And so far from you
That I couldn't
Stand it,

So I squeezed me
Out of myself and
Soon I just
Didn't fit.

And fate is working hard
Making sure that
I'm a fool,
While I just sit and fiddle.
So here's my riddle:

If you become who you were
Instead of who you'd be,
Is there still a change?
Or am I just me?

And if what I expected
And what I got
Don't equal each other
Has Heaven forgot

What I wanted so desperately
To Be?
Oh how ironic,
And it's killing me.

No Two Snowflakes

Ripped fabric,
Blowing in the breeze,
Almost too simple,
Destroyed with ease.

Delicate and Beautiful,
Crushed without a care,
By those who professed to love it most,
But never stopped to stare

At the intricate stitching,
At the elegant grace,
Of the white, free-floating fabric,
All without a trace

Of anything but its
But all they see
Is tattered lace.