English 111 COLLABORATIONS Hannah
You have a fair amount of choice Fair like this day And her hair in the breeze And the ferris wheel Moving round and round in the hollow Of my chest
I’ve been feeling so tired No one makes me feel young anymore But the smell of spring And I think that I’ll try again
I’m not asking for much, Just a couple Of pages will do
I tied my worries Into a bundle of old letters And lost them in your high tide
Sometimes input is Just Data Sometimes Sometimes it’s the World
Words do not belong to us It’s about how we use them What I’ve learned—here at least— You can’t fail But I’ve also learned—in my years— Don’t be afraid to try
Vague stanzas sound significant Specifics can sound righteous I sound pretentious
So much depends upon Writing, writhing, wringing Words and not spaces, Wheelbarrows
Pick me up and put me in you red wheelbarrow Sprint through the yard with me Pitched forward on its thick rubber wheel I’ll sing you a poem Wrapped up in geist and frosted flakes Until I tip out Onto the muddy, wheel torn, grass
“Why would you feel bad?” you snap at me, defensive not wanting to hear so I don’t, for you and I think about lying on the bamboo, out in the forest
What is life, but an Aphorism— Stretched to fit our words?
You are a watchmaker You see the beauty in my parts. You understand that broken is A testament to tried and true You mend me, because you know I am worth your time
What is sense? Truth, resonance, something inarguable, or Something that’s already been said And agreed-upon?
Sense? No. Nonsense. Not nonsense But it does exist in A relationship of non-sense
I don’t get why everyone is trying to tell me What they think I think (or feel). I think they Think they know what I feel because they Feel like they’ve seen me like this before. But I think they’re Idiots. I do what I want…
Sometimes there is nothing to say It’s fun when those times fall On Valentine’s Day
Maybe I’m out in left field But, then nothing Except baseball and shortstops And unanswered questions
Mean anything to me When your boyfriend manages To convince you that Valentine’s day is just A hallmark holiday You turn to baseball For men who chew seeds, Grip bats, Run through the Bases, making balls fly And crowds grow wild Like sunflowers along the fence
I gave you a weed rose On Valentine’s Day. Last year. You liked that. I wonder If I knew everything back then.
It has a personality. I wonder if it’s Better than mine.
I wish I could fold into your laugh lines They cradle life like an infant And blow miraculous wonders into pruned toes
Habitual ordering of words, Hypothetical suggestions, a prescription For the neurons of the interlocutor to follow
I didn’t know what was going on in Egypt. I own a TV. But it won’t tell me how to see it.
Why is it that things happen all at once, Or nothing happens at all? Is it in the stars? Based on the tides? The rising & setting of the sun? I wish I could control it more And I’m not even a control freak
I wish I could snap my fingers & be with you Across an ocean in milliseconds # dream on
control oceans, control TVs control revolutions, evolutions Egypt, snap, no control
I’d like to float Over the many squares That have cradled Revolutions
I called you sporadically for three weeks asking you to be my friend. You seem to have forgotten the moments in your blue box car. I sat behind the wheel trying to learn stick shift You the teacher in the passenger seat The greatest lesson you ever taught me was To let go.
Tramping through fallen boughs and Scrapped leaves, my boot skids On a loose rock, and my feet slide out.
As it Got Caught in my throat I contemplated keeping it there Snug and tight It seemed to fit Like a glove
Just read something that has the potential To change my perspective on life. For today at least. Tomorrow I’ll probably need another 4pm wake-up call.
I don’t think we’ll know what made you so quiet You are your own secret You never told us And you’ve said much more with your silence
There’s a certain slant of light On the parking garage and On winter afternoons that Make cars drive slower And freeze.
The fuel a thick jelly in the engine For the moment before it starts You wonder if you’ll have an Excuse to stay home At last
We can both explore The insides of your Mind, where you Cook high-tech language.
compiled by Lily
You know father time? He measures the strands of white hairs The number of missing teeth But he needs to spin counter clockwise To keep up with my inner child.
What if all clocks spun counter-clockwise Would we count down to noon or New Year? And would the years go in reverse?
The hands on a clock are always running Away, I wish I could them but I know I’m not supposed to. I wonder what I’d so if I one day Caught up?
Clocks are weird Who uses clocks? Time is weirder That’s my cue
What comes in spaces Leaves space Because you know You did it, Didn’t you?
The ice in my mold Has melted, leaving Hollow spaces, your Impression intact
The mountain is Sturdy, durable, solid. But time and erosion Will have the last say.
Are when I see the thick vines Granlery through the reins Consuming the minerals and breaking down The work of people long ago I feel relieved that nothing lasts forever
Even time won’t last fore er- Odd time might
Why can’t we love without complications Or without heaviness? Or without restriction.
Should have kept my coat It looks so hazy and warm I’ve been complaining For months
The words aren’t coming easily They filter through
Language failure
Maybe language fails when you see it, Like a preview of thoughts If you say or hear something out loud You can’t pretend it didn’t happen Or you didn’t see it Words aloud are real
Buy Coke Bye Coke Hello advertising
I Wan 2 write an unmrk’d txt.
Can’t be here Too much longer Too much time Passing the time
The people are Represented by Two, or more
It’s weird to see past thoughts On paper, like someone watched Me thinking them before
Amnesia is necessary at times Because memory is a burden Remembering thoughts would require Owning them
Dn’t gv m Ny f yr Lipograms
Maybe all men got one big soul everybody’s a part of, all faces are the same man. -Grapes of Wrath (wait, can I quote someone in this collaborative poem?) If not, I offer you this: I need to leave. There is so much more Than this, that which we pretend to know.
There are many things that crack under pressure Egg shells, walls, the earth beneath our feet Don’t fall in.
Grapes of wrath and dust Bowls over through plain And Japanese roll
The quietest person in the room always Suffers the most scrutiny. Or maybe! It seems like agony because the spotlight is So infrequent.
I sleep at my house But my home is everywhere It’s good to be home
Why does spring hurt so much?
So Much happier in shorts and t-shirt that's scary
The weather is mocking me. all i've wanted is sunshine and on such a dark day it arrives. why do they say everything happens for a reason?
Everyone suffers in their own way because suffering is relative. Suffering is relatives
relatives, oh what suffering they manage to cause both with their presence and with their absence
listening to katy perry in class – springtime dream i took this class & i liked it
I am calm for the first time in weeks. the unhinged door is aligned with the stars. My breath is sleeping soundly in the crib built in my lungs
I need to allow myself a breath; it's so much nicer to breath when the air is warm.
Is the weather a placebo? Maybe but I'm smiling
Brain Broken By Pack of Wild Cigarettes News at eleven.
If you go to parties dressed as a panda then you can be party panda.
Do the British say "Brilliant" as often as they say it on TV? I didn't notice But then again I was too busy trying to find the love of my life on a train.
Ha! How naïve!
When time flies I love you work hard, play hard April showers bring the wrong side of the bed
keep your eye on the prize or you won't play to win my heart stops when the sun is shining
if life is a journey i cant decide how long I've been on it for but i always hope for something to shift my path
a boulder in the way and there's no way around if i were a boulder my life could be a round of songs or alcoholic beverages
more drinks, more songs more stones. saturday night fever and I'm just heating up.
$20 for a week of alcohol? I'm paying up. I gotta be efficient so I can dress the boy in a leopard bra.
If you say you want me to find what I'm looking for, and you're open to anything that happens, you should mean it.
Data minds yield data mines min your own damn mind
I feel hyperlinked hypertactical drill sergeants carpet-bombing brain stems
room temp w/ a breeze thats all i needs
you know what happens when I google my name? when I google "Sarah"? the first hit is the Wikipedia page for Sarah Palin. Sarah fucking Palin. What a disgrace. we see this paper pad going around And perhaps something comes to us when its across the room. But then you forget it. Tragic.
How much of excitement lies in anticipation? is waiting half the fun? all? if life is one big waiting room you better put down the magazine.
trying to remember to appreciate what I have trying to be "grateful" and think things could be worse
only makes me more cynical than ever
maybe you can read my mind, though I'm not sure where you learned to read in stars
I miss the suction sound of your ear against the speakers of old phones with the chunky buttons set up by the door plugged in under the hat box dresser the notepad and credit union pen all ready to take down messages for my parents
sometimes you just need to turn down the volume and enjoy the white noise. Its the little things that are hard to hear or see.
I miss the silence in between our voices
the people who get stuck in the mire of my life are glad to have gone missing
note to self: add mire, admire, a mired, red mid
that night we were reckless together you left your seed of doubt in me. we should have used a condom.
I hate spring. Winter forever! Grim, frosty, ice. I hate winter. Three months Is too long to feel depressed. Three long winters Too depressed for spring Frosty months ice hate Not going to have any more snow Tried to build an [igloo?] in the backyard Had to use a tarp for a top We were always a grey slush Somewhere between a liquid And a [dehition?] Our cold stiffness Thaws in the warm, We breath of March. Yes the wet breath of March Down my neck as I trudge along March is the black hole of The year. Confusion and delusion Until we are finally free of The [grey?] days And also I don’t feel like talking today. I guess I’m the only one who likes winter I miss snow, I’ll take it over rain And I hate spring I wish there were only three seasons Vivaldi might agree Time doesn’t belong on a wrist Or a wall Or a dresser I want to capture it And turn it upside down I love winter! I feel like a need to go to Siberia in the summer To hibernate until it gets cold again. I agree that March sucks. When I made my Twitter account I used the last name “Davidov” Because that’s what my friend imagined my Russian name to be. Though now I know there were 3 Dadidovs of note, including one who Was a Soviet soldier in WWII. He was awarded the Hero of the Soviet Union. In any case, I really liked Lily’s free-write. We’re all constraining Our speech today Sometimes, around 2:00 pm I realize I haven’t spoken All day. What does that feel like? On my way to the train I talk to myself Sing [?] Practice accents I say thank you to the driver In return for the green slip Of person that let’s me on the El And then I spend hours trying To explain grammar which is Impossible to do without opening My mouth—grammar is a spoken Friction was I born to speak? I feel guilty for feeling these days Because I feel like I should be doing This is why I miss driving alone Wind whipping through cracked windows, The cold air scratches my temples Walking my skin But Justin Bieber is an amazing cliché He’s a walking cliché His songs are so silly This verse is meaningless I’m uncharacteristically argumentative today Last night I was characteristically introspective Or something Achieving the duality that I’ve learned to create Between opened and closed Happysad quitloud asleepawake I think oddly, it’s like the changing of the seasons Today is hot not wet dampwindy brightgray I suppose we’re all transitioning Transitioning days, weeks, months Seasons-February to March Melting into each other like rain On a grey day in Philadelphia Gone with the Wind, Lawrence of Arabia, Cleopatra…these are all Epics I have yet to see. “Poetic” words: feel, sweet death, virgin snow, flowers (roses) swaying in the gentle wind that smells of peonies (that wasn’t a word) LOVE, HATE, this is what moves us? Or is it what’s in the middle? When I got back to my room Today, my picture frame had Fallen on my floor—glass Shattered and scattered. Shattered and scattered. Family and friends no longer Protected. What does this mean? If you’re in a great mood With a nice cup of tea Wearing your favorite sneakers Why is it still raining outside? So comforting—the rain, Your tea, your sneakers Like a new haircut And why is it still raining Who knows what we really want? Is memory eternal a real thing? I can think on my own Thank you very much. Why did you always make Me feel like I couldn’t. I want you to know I’m Not thankful for anything That has anything to do With you and your thoughts. Give credit where it is do But don’t when it doesn’t This is the thing we are Trying to figure out Not being free of influence Not being free of ourselves I’m totally drained It’s hard to write and have To keep so much track of So many words from so many Moments at once. The Ink in my pen is flowing better, I thought it was broken. This Is good. I have a quota Too many words To understand On Sunday something seemed so hopeful about light blue Not it’s dingy, grayish And it’s oppressively hot in here Hard to make friends when all I can think about is I’m melting I’d like to have a real conversation though Rather than fleeting words and chuckles Fleeting The wind came up He set the sprinkler Near my open window And my desk soll When this stream of water My drawer still does not close All the way what Does this mean? The other day, a wise man told me Told me that people used to die By sneezing. They’d walk into the street And sneeze for the first time And that’d be it. There is a fine line between smiling and laughing When I smile I feel like I am in control I prefer smiling on the inside So only we can see It’s really something to see a big, Beautiful, tooth-ful smilke fade Slowly to the straight line our Mouths are when no one’s Looking Kind of a perfect word for so many things What’s the opposite of fleeting Forever? Free night. Free write. Writing in this manner Is so freeing, right?
Take the time to remember to do don’t understand
understanding is underrated overstanding is easier
Can I overstate that I’m underwhelmed? Can I undermine + oversee? At least you understand the upside
But isn’t it the point I mean it hurts so isn’t that the point?
Is there something to a “theory of everything”? Can the universe, and all beyond be summed up in a few points? What’s the point?
The point is that the answer to “why?” is always “because.”
Sometimes the answer does not let us understand. when you ask “why”, i say “why not?” Must there always be a because? Because is underwhelming I’d rather it be overcomplicated and make me think more and more and more and stop asking why
A good question is most of the answer and a good answer makes more questions and if we look for more things to ask we know more and be more
So much depends on... Getting a greenlight to cross 38th street to get to class if you’re running late. What would have happened if I had told him I loved him earlier? The last moments of your life are tragic, stunning, intimate And yet in movies these days we see peoples last moments all the time we cheer when we see the enemy die. This in unrelated But will I ever be that to him?
I think I’ve spent too much of my life looking for a single answer Answer E makes me doubt myself, but maybe doubt is good when choosing all of the above.
If I knew what I know now I’d point to the rainbow and say I drew that for you see it’s wrinkling in the rain
drawing rainbows would you use the usual colors or find a new spectrum
Circle the appropriate answer
It’s hard to respect an online space especially when you want to #tag life.
Scattered attention makes us feel like we’re getting more things done. But really we’re just doing more things badly.
More things, more answers. There is no right answer. I choose D. “I don’t know.”
Scattered attention yes- as if we have all returned physically but our thoughts are still on their way hopefully when they arrive, they come slowly otherwise I’ll need another vacation
Wake up early on purpose Tired makes an afternoon buzz Events are heavy with extra momentum 12:00 AM 12:00 AM 12:00 AM make up your mind, clock! I hate indecision, at least in respect to technology You’re supposed to be perfect.
Can I dream between snooze buttons? Do my grandma’s days move slower or faster? Which one of us wants to be young again Sorry I couldn’t read the handwriting!
Bad habits take concentration She has cried every time I leave. She is lonely I want to give her an imaginary friend.
My roommate told us she had an imaginary friend named Stray Tambolean She’s an only child It explains a lot.
Sometimes ____ ____’s like an imaginary world With imaginary friends And imaginary lives Magical realism?
The Mystic Myriad Manifold Maneuvering Moves Me Mindful of My Misgivings.
What’s the price of a good night? Do you pay for it the next morning? Or for long after? Do you ever stop paying?
I am always paying for something: $2.00 for coffee creamer $10.00 for the shuttle A penance for negative thoughts. Priceless. What is my life- a commercial for Mastercard?
I prefer to imagine life experience to experience, Memory to memory, memories made in the Mystical magical manifold of my mind. and now I am making more while the others seem to slip away fast - I don’t remember if I had an imaginary friend. When I lose a memory, what am I paying for?
There was an earthquake and people died and I’m sorry, I really am but I had chicken wings today sorry.
I come out of German thinking and speaking in German Too bad I can’t think and speak German in my German class.
They say you’ve truly mastered a language when you start dreaming in it I hope I never dream in java
There is a giant crack in the Earth The weather gods were playing baseball with the planets. We got hit the hardest They are celebrating their home run.
tectonic plate movements are a geological thing but I like it better thinking of the Gods playing baseball. I think the Yankee could beat ‘em.
An earthquake melt down tsunami An apocalyptic trifecta I don’t know what to do, shake, melt or swim
When it winds back on itself That’s when the magic happens.
How to get from my “To-Do” to my “Done?” I’ve never made a “Done” list. Maybe I should.
Everyone has a someone but my someone and I have other someones at the moment, and it’s not like we ever belonged to each other in the first place. Does that mean we’re done?
Speaking of done, and to do, all I keep thinking is what can I do? I want to do something to help the shakes and the quakes explosions and overflowsions and the broken hearts, and the empty hears there is so much to do and so much will never be done because when we’ve done, aren’t we dead?
Poland is so cold frozen scorched earth maybe some closure.
I am not whole But I am not broken I miss you, that’s all
compiled by Olivia
You throw around heavy words like you were the world’s strongest man I, your boulder
Could easily be a bullet in my Grandma’s .22 standing on the porch firing the heads off the ground hogs She’s small but she’s strong too maybe stronger than you
You must be delusional to think that I’ll wait for you I won’t sway to your beckoning lust I have to be earned
Why do you want to see me? Why now? You never wanted to know me before. Until later at least. Over a Blue Moon, or 3, and a salad at the Bulldog. Even then it didn’t feel settled. Are you surprised I said no?
The one over there might be more impressionable though I’d take my chances with her Andy always said he could buy it, I mean, They all drink it, It all goes down the same Though Marilyn never digested it well
but I want to get back to this impressionable girl are you naïve? self-confident? maybe it will work, maybe not at least there’s a Blue Moon involved
Right now I feel like Poland, 1939 Trampled and tired WWII doesnt work in poetry sorry
It’s still cold outside But the sun burns bright and my room its warm, bay windows grab heat like a magnifying glass
“Did you find your Indies, John” Pause. “You will.” “…I may have sailed past them.”
I felt like a Jewish father at a bar-mitzvah trying to clap to the beat like a bad sprinter reaching just after the gun
as my pre-pubescent son (he developed late, see) gets sweaty in the horde of 13-yr-old girls towering over him like you tower over her now, that impressionable Jezebel
I want to Take you through my telescope so we can see only what I want to be I see HER between us
And rather than compile a list of 365 reasons why I love you-I will dwell on the fact that your list belongs to her.
It’s easier to make not sense than make sense there is no nonsense however Living free from reason doesn’t help make more sense, Personally, I need reasons, answered for everything Still asking Why.
There will be no answers, though. As everything falls from the previous moment’s leap, a question is never enough
This, of course, is noise and this s coarse with noise but I digress— The squirrels are late I must record them listening
translated by translated by translate a rose is a rose is a rose is a rose translated by a rose is a translated rose
my right ear won’t stop pounding I’m experiencing an auditory heart attack soon my eyes will cease to breathe
little lemon yellow yellow little lemon lemon lemon little permutations
Our eyes are falling out But our mouths are too dumb to notice
Deaf and blind, dumb and willfully ignorant we marinate in the futility of seeking answers
Deaf, in the sense that I don’t understand French and my right is stil plugged
She has a network of capillaries in her oozing with tree sap They teach her to sparkle unconditionally
Fergie sparkling in her football pads is pwoof of the power of that game a game any game
We play these games like we both know the ending of the story, but don’t want to ruin it for the other
“When I first saw her she was regarded as someone finished, lost, broken. she seemed barely to notice the others abut her.”
Everything is arbitrary There was no reason for us to be here right now Time won’t ever be a reason Everyone is scared of this But I’m not
Not knowing what or if I did, would it be easier to tell you
“I told you, He told you, She told you, They told you, we told you, it tells you.” …you said it.
you think she’s an open book, but you don’t know what page to turn to, do you?
There’s a resistance to your insistence to open our mouths with our ears still open too so maybe we should close our eyes then? That might make this easier. But only if you insist.
You insist upon reading the roadmap of veins drawn on my arm, but you already know where they lead and how to get there
Sex is good for the knees. You see your girlfriend this weekend, so your knees will feel a lot better. I don’t want to be reminded of that.
When you do see her massage her earlobes and whisper nice things that will make your lives easier
I put more weight in your sweet nothings that in her most naked confessions
Who can say what hasn't been said who is to say it's worth saying I can't remember what I've heard from what I've thought
and that's because I've probably already thought all the thoughts I'll ever think and from here on out they'll be whats rolling around in my head like pills in an orange bottle
I CAN'T LOVE YOU TILL YOU GIVE UP THIS GODDAMN POETRY! YOU'LL NEVER MAKE ANY MONEY! AND YOU'LL DIE, POOR! like KEATS! POOR!
I've got nothing to declare, but you let me into this place anyway Not quite so friendly though, I might add Well, he is British... And that always makes us laugh
He was probably a stand-up chap, then and I mean that in the comedic sense because sometimes I like to speak in puns and sometimes write haikus
Linen suits mark repetition with wrinkles, meditation on movement and stillness The boredom splits mountains, opening wide spans between moments.
We're trying not to try but art is not fair so we fail and give conscious explanations
I'm riding a unicycle down the line between boredom and hunger, looking for a helmet
Slouching tired in my chair, a smell is wafting through the air coffee bean and dirt. I like that.
And then it just went from there nobody here hey anything they really need to say and yet we search through our minds for something that others might find wise
Does it mean that I'm really ignorant if I still don't know what the hell is going on in Egypt??? “So do you take that for epilepsy or....?” The Lone Rider of Santa Fe? Mrs. Draper
Careful the beverage you're about to enjoy is extremely hot Fasten your seat belt Mind the gap Look Both Ways Fill in the bubbles Follow Directions
treehousemusicnotePaddingtonbarrelrollingpindowntownhouse
One month later, have you failed yet? I've failed miserably. Fallen so far off the path, it seems like I always forget, everyday I think “tomorrow.” We know not how to make them, but it's hard to let (go) of a hope that one day there will be no failure.
begun begone beg big brag belie below bestow beside bright brittle brown brick-brack bristle brustle hustle
We beat our spoons against the sides of our bowls. In protest of cereal.
We spoon our sides against protest our bowls beat
I just got a box of Special K Yogurt & Berry. It's OK.
I went with Kashi flakes & berries it made me feel good about myself
I think British (English? Does that include Scottish, Welsh, Irish—OK, it does) food leaves much to be desired, especially breakfast. There were two extremes: Muesli and yoghurt, or 3 different kinds of meat. Everyone was shocked when all I ordered was 2 eggs & toast
Wasps and birds carry harsh louds Almost as many as Frogs & toads
I'm not very tired yet, but it's only Monday. Spiraling into the normal pattern is inevitable. The spiral continues until, May? But what happens after that? That's going to be new. I'm not scared though.
Is there anything redemptive about New Jersey? besides walt whitman and william carlos williams and why does it inspire so many w's and turnpikes?
Snapping jaws snag lips on hooks, lines, swirling in eddies, rush to straining bow
It's colloquial, isn't it? Though the word itself is not.
Abbreviate should be shorter, but who am I to say?
I'll write short lines; cuz I like how the page is looking.
Stanza to stanza line to line verse to verse page to page
He told me it's not dead yet, but I might want to start planning the funeral. Oh wow...
Purple, royal hue what is it about Monday? That kings sit purple
A bizarre chance occurrence spun threads between kingdoms: schemes grew elaborate, binding lives and hues.
We are living in exphrastic space, in hidden messages— we hate them. we destroy consumer capitalism.
I have tried to create disconnections between A and B, a self-fulfilling prophecy I write my own horoscopes
I never knew that the abominable snowman is supposed to be a yeti But I guess that makes sense... Little Rahm likes the new heater in the tank Walt Whitman, Dick Whitman... Is that ironic?
Alright, 20 Questions. GO!
is it something I keep in my bedroom, hidden safely under my bed?
Why does light improve my mood when outside & upset me in doors?
how can I stop myself from fucking it up again?
why does everything always fail to live up to expectations?
Lots of questions today. We just talked about Existentialism in my German class today. “Existentiulismus” How can anyone have that roll off your tongue naturally? Is there a connection?
Are we having class next week?
Will we keep this up forever?
today has more shortlines that’s relaxing.
If I ask a question about asking a question, does that make me post-modern?
No.
A Fling ends before Fling A self-professed open end The weather is combating my mood.
even minor changes are changes ch-ch-ch-changes
If I could combine the words ennui, apathy, & overwhelmed I could sum up impending graduation If only I had the words.
I still find it hard to take anything seriously I wonder, at what age do you learn that skill. I’m ok for now being unserious And I hope it never changes.
can’t think of anything to say i’ll probably edit this out later for being stupid and insubstantial
Why did he have to say “Dream Weaver”? Now that lame song is stuck in my head. I have nothing profound to say today
Is this the 11th question? Was that rhetorical?
I used to be mortally afraid of the number 13. Is this the 13th question?
you should be able to buy a google that had search results based on hilariousness
I don’t get why hotels skip the 13th floor – if you’re on the 14th
Suddenly the floor dropped out and when you were there We ate Bread and meat and all the soap in the cupboard and our mouths couldn’t stay clean Because you were too filthy and you were too Good.
Why is there always doubt in my stomache? it pooles at the bottom and seeps through my pores I wonder if any one can see the ink spilling from my belly button
hooked-on-phonic is like crack cocaine? reading is an extraction I wish I could read because I wanted to, not Because I had to.
My gmail page thinks my e-mails suggest Due Diligence Analysis Love relationships Motivational phrases Is google mocking me?
The warm weather is weighing heavily on my liveliness, humidity tugs at my eyelids would be nice to go lay in the grass and forget the other things weighing me down
my gmail page also suggests due diligence analysis I’m not even sure what that means it also suggests I might need friends
I always loved Chase Utley, but now I’m not so sure I like Roy Hallady more, but just in a “just friends” way =) I once lived a lie I told my friend that Chase Utley and I were having an affair He believed me for four months. Apparently he told this to people when he was drunk at a party. See, these are the trivial thoughts flowing through my mind today.
Number 18 Does this count as annoying?
Pass.
Out On Over
P A e E r S i T P H a E T T e I T I C C
I heard your name screamed. I wanted to stop and look. But I kept walking. Why do I care about someone I shouldn’t care about
I care so much about everyone but usually from a distance, it’s very easy to get attached if I care too much, and too closely.
Caring is a burden It’s safer to be distant my work always reflects what I am not: Photographs: neat & tidy Poetry: distant, ambivalent, unemotional.
4pm wake up call, I’m always waiting for you. Showed that I care Because she is suffering, I’m sure (I would be) And I do not “care” for her (euphemism) But no one deserves such suffering
I try not to care but always end up worrying. caring about everyone else but what about myself? rarely
Go on take the money and run
Am I too obsessed with questions? Well, that’s number 20.
Ok. enough now. I’ve chosen not to be Anonymous apparently. My pen is too loud to protect my identity. But why would we want to remain unknown?
It’s a different kind of MILF when our mother gets hotter everyday
It’s even more different when it’s your dad.
Someone was skipped Oh well The pad cycles on I guess he is a ghost writer For this round.
we write lone lines, separating them so we can see what they’d look like as if they were strangers
This is kind of Emersonian We’re alone among many On our own in the masses I want to lay down now
dreaming of dreaming eyes closed gotta go…
wewritelonelinesseparatelyseparatingthemsowecansee whatthey’dlooklikeasstrangersandareweanymore alonewhenthereislessspace?
Thirteen minutes! Ahh! The freedom of an hour between classes. What do we do with it?
We can’t do things with our time – it doesn’t belong to us. I choose to think we belong to it and it does things to us
because minute to minute we have to option to jump up and run away with a stolen credit card and a ham sandwich but we never do so does the choice actually exist? Question 21. Sorry.
|