This one is mine. i must admit it is terribly long. you don't have to bother reading it all, or at all. but it would be nice.

How can I illuminate the faded spark within you?
The task scares me to near death
Wish I could slip my hands inside your chest and rip apart the rooted scars
Your clumsy dance with life has left you with quite the injuries
Were you paying close attention during her brutal lessons?
Has she taught you anything worth knowing?

How far will we track before one steers off course?
I fear, someday, you will tearfully shift your eyes away when asked about this love and what remains of it
Or perhaps, lying still and motionless, you'll yearn for passion, reflecting how it once came so freely and generously

Quiet down now...I know things
No need for brutal honesty here my friend
Because I know the discomfort and uncertainty your words can bring about
They torment me without warning
And make my hands shake and my blood thin
I should have ran, I still whisper
But lessons learned late can still be lessons learned

I envision your evolution within me
And often play with infinity as it molds your existence into mine
I let it gently unfold
This is how I can protect you from your enemies, your self
I don't know your demons, we are not that close
I've only seen them on the rare occasions when you've looked the other way and forgot I was watching
And I fear that, as you approach, they'll engulf me as well

But somehow I want to carry that burden
Unsure of whether I now have a choice
I suppose I could blindly hurry forward, head down, without glances, so as to not acknowledge their sinister presence
But I don't know where to then discard their unbearable load!
Thoughts, of shivering aloneness on concrete floors form
Wishing I had never locked hearts with you

Look here, I found these pages crumpled at your feet
They are the endings you wish you could have written, for all your other loves
But you've never been taught their baffling tongue
So chapters were written for you and endings eventually discarded
And so, you remained passively cornered
How have you survived the self exile?
Holding your breath? Shifting your eyes? Sobbing inward? Sneering outward?

You stand engulfed by a stench so few can stand,
I watch as you sit at the edge of this swamp, hoping your innards spill forward, washing away the rot
Don't you have something to dispose of?
You must have the strength to drown it with your own bare hands
It has run its final course
And mangled you long enough
All the while throwing you nothing but tears as scraps
It is now time to say a quiet goodbye, exchange a quick kiss, and pry the claws out of your chest
I warn you; avoid its pleading glare at all cost
Do not forget how you've been fooled before

I cringe when faced with the thoughts of us becoming the mediocre and the insignificant, as our beginning comes to an end
Will we remain within this embrace while planting kisses on foreheads once the anticipation and lust begins to slip through our fingers?

I am worried
Because I see toxic potential in you,
The potential to be ruthless with idealisms and ideologies
Which are ALWAYS only successful at someone else's expense

Nevertheless,
my thoughts have dressed you in satin ribbons and bows and balloons,
like a solitary birthday gift awaiting its anticipated revelation
But I know that celebrations don't last forever
The uninvited hold grudges and others overstay their welcome, all the while someone is painfully vomiting some horrid bullshit they've been fed

I know eventually everyone flees
And I am left with only a cold and dirty mop in hand
It is then that I try to seek comfort beneath my flesh
Right where I've planted you to grow
Hoping you haven't left too
Will reality find only remnants of your warmth drifting through hollow canyons haphazardly carved by our misguided expectations?

Too late to flee, I suppose
My ankles have been severed by my eagerness
The fog of uncertainty has crept up within my throat

Yet, I don't want a promise for my future
That would shatter all that remains whole
My hope is not to foresee but to forgo

Just remember, my dear lover
That as you entertain your dark fiend,
And your days and nights fade into one another,
Rest will become nonexistent and peace will certainly abandon you

Please
Grasp the jaws of the monstrosities that are feasting on you
I can see how their voracious appetites have nearly devoured you
Yet, you plead; they are so precious to you
You stroke them so gently
Caress their silky hair
And insert them beneath your bruised skin
You must,
When you gaze at your distorted image in the muddy water,
Realize,
They do not define you

Please
Shift your eyes from that convoluted mirror and listen to these hurried words
I worry
Lost on your winding path, I try to keep pace with the blind man I met along the way
If he could only see his resemblance to your angelic face
But he knows how blessed he is
Ignorance IS bliss
And so he sends his deepest regards

I now know that I can't run through darkness while my soul is searing with your burning image
And still, I cannot escape my acidic thoughts of uncertainty
In the end, I hope and plead that the our sweetness does not fade into a bitter concoction of apathy as comfort takes its proper seat
I pray that your demons become nothing more than distant acquaintances, rarely invited, but tolerated and contained, unable to molest the good I want you to know

Nevertheless, the question remains
Once this crusade ends,
And all that could be said is said
And all that would be done is done
I wonder
Who will remain to carry MY heavy burden?
When I cannot lift, carry or hold
When even the strength to write you these poems eventually escapes me?

i used to be obsessed with dead poets, especially ones who've killed themselves. i think my favorite was sara teasdale.
    
I Shall Not Care
    
When I am dead and over me bright April
Shakes out her rain-drenched hair,
Though you shall lean above me broken-hearted,
I shall not care.

I shall have peace, as leafy trees are peaceful
When rain bends down the bough;
And I shall be more silent and cold-hearted
Than you are now.

Sara Teasdale

there are still many of you who have not responded to the secret santa extravaganza!

this is a second plead for you to join in the merriment. i guarantee it is a load of fun. ask all of the participants from last year. even if you're not going to the party, it is still nice to get a present in the mail.

if i don't hear from you, i will start pestering you through email and may eventually stalk you and leave you orgasmic phone messages.

i'm going out drinking tonight...with a mission. wish me luck people!

i had a post written about little boobies, but i got distracted, closed out my browser and now it's gone. i wanted to talk about boobies, and how much i like little ones after i found this picture of a young janice dickinson. i hate big boobs. i would give anything to have little, tiny boobies. they're just so much more feminine to me; more delicate and sensual. to me, they seem to portray class and a clean, natural beauty. (probably two things i have the least of) i cannot understand for the life of me why women want bigger breasts. i have been plagued with big boobs from the age of 11 and hated it from the beginning. tiny boobie girls, be happy with what you have. less is more. less boob is more beauty.