..

You'd think I was ambidextrous, but really just a fidget.

shaking teeth, with a stabbing ear

Only I spell it a little differently.

there's nothing that the road cannot heal - bright eyes - nothing!

where does the fertilizer come from?

Love's not always involved.

or maybe it was the beginning. something i saw while i was praying the other day.

This is just a few lines of prose I jotted down while enjoying the beautiful weather a while ago. It has absolutely no direction or purpose at the moment, but I liked some of the language. R&R, my loves! Thank you!

she would never write him love lettters.

of halfsmoked cigarettes and old love stories told over pink martinis and a smoldering fireplace

Today I am discovering so many things.

the stuff that's not in warning lables.

My friends and I had a rave without the drugs last night and danced to techno music for about four hours. This is the product of our madness.

Is love a tender thing? it is too rough, too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like a thorn.

[your legacy.]

i've decided to deal with my memories by making them into short stories. this is one of the first of hopefully many.

she pretends she doesnt notice when he lies on his back and doesn't look at her

She'll kiss you in that makebelieve way you can't help but fall down down down.

we are split in such thin slices.

she throws up every other thursday and pretends her orange juice is mixed with vodka. she promises that loving someone is like being ripped apart. you can never get your seams to match up.

you shoot straight into my veins and leave me hazy and addicted.

the poetgirls are striking back, scarred limbs and messy hair have never been so beautiful.