The question is:

Do I like your attention more than I like my dignity?

Do I call you out for the things you've said,

Even if they happened months ago?

Do I really hate what you said

Or do I relish in it, hoping

It will lead to what I want?

Does it mean that you want, too?

Or are you just cocky and a tease

Because you're in the perfect position to do so?

But if you reprimand me for "crossing the line"

Then isn't it fair that I do the same?

Isn't what you said more cause for alarm?

But, if I do bring it up

Will it ruin my chances of getting what I want,

Or has that plan been fucked since Jump Street,

And I'll always be that silly, sad, 

Almost intelligent girl that you know?

Half of me says that's the case

The other half says not so fast.

Because that thing you said really made me think

That you've considered this, "us", too.

The question remains:

Do I like your attention more than my dignity?

A Kindly Carpenter

Let me build you out of kisses

I will gently pull and curl each strand from your head

Let me smooth your shoulders into a firm back

I will push my fingertips to mold your chest

Let me use my cheek and neck to create yours

I will take my nails and give you interesting little scars

With an amusing or upsetting story to accommodate each one

Let me press my wrists against your sides

To shape your torso into what it should be

I will wrap my arms to make each leg

And I will slide down slowly to ensure their perfection

I will use each toe of mine to teach yours what to do

My fingers showing yours what intertwined feels like

To top it off, after rubbing and tugging ears into you

I will tell them every secret

I will gently pull apart your beautiful head

And I will fill it with knowledge

with personality

with ideas I've never had

and memories that aren't my own

With all of this, 

I shall set you free to search the world

And if you ever come back and find me

I will press my chest against yours

And let you feel the heat, the heart, that made you

But you will not know

Your fingers will feel as if I taught them

How to hold and be held;

You will not know why

Our bodies and minds will feel so right

We will both be convinced that we are in the afterlife

We will feel this way with no explanation, no reason

We will be in love

Insert Teenage Angst Title Here

I found a little knife today

And I cut out my heart for you.

I felt it in my hands.

It was red and pulsating

Not very pretty,

But homemade

And all on my own.

It wasn't on your christmas list

And I'm sure you found it gross,

And now, I'm not so sure why I gave it to you.

I saw you intrigued by her head and hands,

But I was already counting on giving it to you.

Now I'm looking in the trash can

At my red, beating piece of useless flesh

And watching you inch closer towards her.

My heart has been thrown away once again.

It's time to grow another

And hide all the knives away

I need to keep this next one.

But now I sit, injured

A big bleeding hole where

My gift for you was living.

But I can feel the muscle fibers

And flesh slowly crawling back together.

I'll be okay.

But my brain sits unscathed

And though my heart will

Gladly forgive you, lickety-split

My brain has had the feeling 

Seared in for the hundredth time.

It cannot bring itself to forget.

But Honestly, Really?

If you had just been honest

About the way you felt

Then when I've been around him

My heart wouldn't melt.

If you had just been honest

With me that one time

Then I wouldn't feel this mad

Or want him to be mine.

If you had only told me

That you really liked him,

I would have dropped my feelings

Just to please your whim.

And I really should have known

When I saw you two together

But I trusted what you told me,

Now I'm wishing I'd known better.

It's not like I haven't done this

The situation is nothing new,

I've always given up the guy

And I would've done the same for you.

But I'm tired of playing possum

With feelings falsely dead

'Cause now I'm twisting up inside

A thousand thoughts shot through my head.

And it isn't fair when I can't compete

You're hands down, drop dead hot,

And when it all boils down

You've everything I haven't got.

That everything will get you him

But I think I might still try

All I know is that this time

You won't see this girl cry.

I wish that liking him first

Was something that really mattered,

Because I'm ready to tear my heart out,

Relief falling with a splatter.

But I'm good at faking

How I really feel,

And I'll trick you if I need to

So well, you'll think it's real.

But I honestly could vomit

At the way history's been repeating,

Because I know when it comes to you

Boys are often fleeting.

Because YOU get bored, YOU don't care

You're pretty enough to do that.

But my situation's a little different

You're a tigress, I'm a house cat.

This is my call out to you,

This is how I really feel,

But I'll take every measure

To make sure you don't ever hear.

I pose a question

Have you ever had a word stuck in your head?  Or an idea?  It comes from nothing in particular, it's completely made up and not attached to anything, but it's just stuck in your brain.

I am infatuated with the word twist, twisting, twisted.

It makes me think of a man and a woman, both young, in some kind of alley way, or old european hotel, and they're just clawing at each other and twisting sheets.  Hair is getting pulled and the noises they're making are animalistic and a little scary.  And something isn't right.  Someone's married, or he's her boss, or she's going to absolutely ruin his life, carrer, mentality somehow.  One of their head, or both of their heads are absolutely twisted.  And in the midst of this affair, I see her twist her body around to attack his shoulder, and he pushes her and then they start tearing covers.  Or if they're in an alley way, both of their backs are getting fucked up from the bricks; they're very scratchy bricks if they're in this alley way you see.  Otherwise the image doesn't work for me.  And after this affair, everything must be ruined.  For at least one of them, one of their lives becomes obsession trying to find the other.  One of them must become insane, it triggers something and their reality is forever distorted over this one instance.

I'm not sure where this idea comes from.  I'm not sure what it means if anything.  I hope it's not some kind of premonition.  Either way, it's what I think of when I hear the word twist.  And for some reason, I really really enjoy it.

Hero In Me?

The world around me

Crumbles and cries,

Danger is everywhere.

Bodies flood the streets while

Ice caps flood the ocean

And corruption has become

Our personal Jesus once again.

But I can't bring myself to care

Because I just feel too damn good.

I grew up loving ponies,

Summer days spent in

Farmyard stables, thunderous

Hoof beats, my only soundtrack.

Equestrian dreams and braided manes

The jealousy of hair prettier than mine,

The challenge of jumps,

But a never fading affection

For every one I rode.

But now all I care about

Is this Horse in front of me.

I've never seen such Black Beauty

In all my years;

I'd spend every day on your back

But mom and dad

And everyone say

You're too dangerous, too wild.

No one understands

Why I love you so much

But they've never

Ridden you like I have.

They haven't felt the rush

Of galloping speed.

And if they don't

They can never know.

And they say knowledge is power.

They say you're the worst

But I know you're the best

And when I'm seventy

All the bottle swimmers

Will be long dead

While I sit in the saddle, looking good

With a fully intact liver.

But you're strong enough

To trample me.

And I love you enough

That I'd end if you left me.

And if I shared a bridle

With another rider,

I could end up with

A killer case of colic.

But I know you would

Never try to hurt me.

You're too beautiful

And mysterious

To be as affectionate

As you are and still be

Enough to break me.

Lucky for us,

I'm more than willing to risk it.

I'm very new at this.

I have never really blogged before, I don't quite know what to do.  I suppose this is a place for art, and my art (because you can't post theater on a blog) is writing.  Here's a poem that I wrote that won First Place in the High School Poetry category at the High Point Literary Festival recently.

Party Monster

Party Monster, rage and candy

Breaking necks, but looking dandy

Keeping Tabs and selling drugs

Twisting sheets with every thug

Ripping people up to bits

Every target takes a hit

Strolling like a superstar

Rolling in her stolen car

Moving bricks up through her nose

A dirty thing in fancy clothes

Poison mouth, venom drips

Sins tattooed across her hips

The DEA don't know her name

But all the hustler's watch her game

She grins and hands you leathal pills

Never worries who she kills

Shows you down the rabbit's hole

Always plays the villian's role

Every word could be a lie

Giggles when she makes you cry

Sells the kids her evil things

Parent's nightmares are their dreams

The prettiest evil you could find

But no one ever seems to mind

Someone always takes her fall

We wonder how she does it all

The sickest bitch you'll ever meet

How does she make it look so sweet?