Oh dang

Friday, October 3, 2008

To celebrate it's 10th anniversary, Google is opening it's oldest available archives. Here's some of the atrociously bad 16 year old me poetry I found when I googled my old web persona.


SUMMER IS OVER

i can't lay here next to you
wrapped in your jacket and your arms
knowing right well the dead end we've become
because of you and your needs..
I am unwilling to be
the understudy to your hopes
of finding another (newer, better, easier)

so take your gifts, love
take the things i gave you and memorize them
tomorrow things will be different
and I won't let you pretend anymore.
seeing the love that once filled your eyes
turn to pity underneath my tears and pleading.

summer is over
my virginity and your vulnerability..
over, love, like all the promises; all the hoping..
take your gifts, angel
and never let my stoic face and
rough edges deceive you.

i hope you reach your greener grass.
i hope you touch your bluer skies.
i hope she fixes things in you
i always tried but never could.
i hope your find yourself, love
in the void your absence leaves in me.

Naturally Glamorous

dressed in distress
naturally glamorous
glass at my lips and
pride on my tounge
there is not much left
for me to say as
there is not much left
for me to feel
now that the bed- my life- and my head
are empty as bone.
your pictures on the wall
your music in the stereo
your clothes on the floor
you're under my skin

Artists

i dreamed we were painters
surrealists, cubists, minimalists
seeing our memories spread out to canvas
messy and finger-painted
child like and messy
a jumble of color
a condensation of experiences
never making sense
because good art never does.

Oh "Skye," you are something else.