You are a sentence with no punctuation, a kaleidoscope full of colors that I don’t remember learning in elementary school. Your voice is a sound that I’ve been looking for my entire life. Your smile is the only sunrise worth setting my alarm clock early enough to see. If I could, I would shape shift into the first thing you think about in the morning just so I can be reminded of what it’s like to wake up next to you.

I love you in a language I don’t fully understand; in words I haven’t found enough courage to forklift out of my chest. I heard that karma is a vengeful and also a light sleeper so I’ve chosen to love you like this. Quietly.

So I’ll call your phone and hang up before it actually rings. I’ll write you letters that you will never read and when I see you in public I’ll stick my hand inside of a bag full of things I haven’t done since you left me and pull out a smile. I’ll say something like, “Hello, it’s nice to see you.” And I’ll keep walking.

-Rudy Francisco

SO. freaking. magic. I post a lot of his stuff, but everything he writes is so marvelous, I can’t help myself.

here is more
there will be days when you will feel like peacock with no feathers, you will feel flightless and undeserving of attention. 

But listen, listen to me listen, you have to stop getting out of bed like you were an oil spill. You’re not a flat tire at 2 am, so stop acting like an accident. You are an apple on a pine tree in a room full of lemons. And you come from a long line of swiss army pocket knives: men who are small, sharp, and dangerous when not handled carefully.

-Seventeen, Rudy Francisco

words like violence

Nice bit of chillout.  I adore these songs and maybe you will too.   I am stressed out.  but not as much as I should be because honestly I don’t really care about college or grades anymore.  If I did I’d be much more stressed. but I don’t. so I’m not.  How many times do I have to ask people to run away to California with me before it becomes cliche?

call it chaos call it lost, beautiful delirium

discovered this amazing blog:  http://7alaabdullah.com/
here’s a sample


To my yet-to-be-conceived daughter.

When they tell you that you have a void in your pants in place of your independence, you will tell them that your independence lies in the creases of your fingertips and at the tip of your tongue.

When they tell you that there’s a bulge in your chest in place of your freedom, you will tell them that freedom beats at a steady lub dub  beneath your ribs.

When they tell you that you are a forbidden entity and bound you to chains shaped by their sick society, you will tell them you are as holy as a baby’s first breath.

When they tell you that you are one third of your male counterpart, you will tell them that your head will always be held as high as your brothers’.

Never lower.

Never sheepish, never hesitant.

You will be stronger than a lightening bolt. You will not be blind. You will wave away diamond rings and find your own shine. You will marry your dreams and solemnly swear I do to the stars nestled behind your eyelids. You will be fearless.

Your passionate nature will not disable you. The length of your hair will not define you. The curves of your silhouette will not make or unmake you. You voice will be as loud as a lioness’s roar. Your hands will always keep slaving away for more. For better.

You will be better. You will not be afraid; you will not depend on luck or your ancestors’ names. You will not be degraded; you will not stand down. You will make something of yourself and always stand your ground. You will never know what it means to be thought of as “less”

– like I did. Like my mother and my sisters did.

My little girl, promise me that you will never be silenced. Swear that you will never allow your tribe’s honor to burden your back. And when the whole world rests on your shoulders, never allow your knees to kiss the floor. Invite it in wholly. Let it sink into your skin. It will disappear in shame once it sees the universes you hold within.

I don’t know you yet. And we may never get to meet.

But I know that if you come to be, you will get to bathe in your own brilliance. You will dress yourself in grace. You will care more about your future than the color of your nails.

I will watch you soar up into the sky using wings you’ve built up all on your own. You will show everyone that there is wisdom in your voice; not shame, and that there is beauty in your face; not disgrace. I will build you up with bricks I’ve had thrown at my face.

I will teach you to be human. I will teach you to be kind.

I will give you all the strength in me that I have had to hide.

And when they feed you hideous lies, darling, and when they tell you that you are a diamond or a pearl in their eyes, tell them that’s not what you want to be.

Tell them your mother taught you that you are a woman.

See, I wrote this poem in my own spinal fluid. I put it on the backbone of a white flag so before you read it you’ll already know that I’ve given up. I’ll just keep you here. Shackled to the most important chapter of my life story, pressed into the basement of my eyelids like liquid salvation so I remember you beautiful with amazing underneath your wings and an orchid smile, you gorgeous earthquake. You cracked hour glass with sand spilling from behind your ribs, you wasted my time.

How dare you linger on my lips and then kiss me like a stuttering apology with excuses stapled to the roof of your mouth. I still remember you like a dream, tattooed to the inner walls of a long term memory but some days… I wonder if you even existed at all.

And of course, you wanna know how I got these scars.
I got these scars the day I fell in love with you.
I landed face first.
omgsh rudy francisco, JUST AMAZING.

I got home tonight and someone is sleeping in my bed.  I feel like one of the three bears. 


America is stupid.

Why? WHY can I not legally go out and dance?  grrrr my roommate is 21 and everyone is going out and everyone is an adult except me. 

perhaps I will finish my painting tonight

perhaps I will finish any one of my three papers that are overdue.

perhaps I will wallow in tears.  underage tears.

perhaps I will be happy I am not WRINKLY AND OLD.

 Thanksgiving was fun.  Goodnight and peace.

via http://whoartgos.tumblr.com/

wont you spare
a glance for me
today? in between
swinging arms…
beat heels to
rise heartbeats
head spun like
vinyl and cigarettes
are incense to
anoint borrowed time

yesterdays are
scraps that
litter floors, flecks
of stardust kept
in vials and jars,
abandoned clothes
shelter no one

tomorrow is the
anticipation that
comes while we’re
watching the flames,
surprisingly the
sound is the best
part, water escapes
fibrous tombs to
achieve billiance

portrait in various shades of melodrama

I am nervous

 unsettled, unprepared,
impressed to the point of

perhaps I am playing the part of
a girlchild, reincarnated from something striped
hands-shaking, violin bones (high-
perhaps it is/has been/will be
is it cliché to make comparisons to
kryptonite, to
an envelope delivered with a
white settling of

your smile tangles with the

half-poetry you breathe out instinctively, sharp and
you are surprising like
frostbite. the soft teeth of morning
freeze; and I, dull, wordless,
naive and lightning-struck
I am nervous
I like boys with strong convictions
and convicts with perfect diction
underdogs with good intentions
amputees with stamp collections

-Kimya Dawson, so nice, so smart
hm enigmas.  you don’t meet very many of them which is sorta the point…  or you could argue that everyone is an engima.  or that no one is.  but please don’t.

wha BAM

jacked this from:  http://heathersday.tumblr.com/

half the time I get what I want I realize I don’t actually want it, and sometimes the grass is really just plastic and that’s why it looked so green from here.  time to chop up perspectives and bask in some new found naivety if I can conjure any up from today’s sun-drenched faux-cynicism.  Because I’m never cynical.  The naivety is sorta fake as well, and I guess most of this paragraph has been a parody or satire or well the obvious word would be “lies”.   vaguely content…


general guidance for myself

this is the result of
chasing shiny things like a demented
crow and
open your head open your head your head let out the
jealous stuttering
child, kicking at mirrors and
throwing fits (you


this isn’t anything you want
and you know you always end up
(oh that word’s a reputation killer)
nine tenths of what you can’t have
(careless, care less, and anyways, most things

birds have more self control
perhaps and

I’ve been there, caged/uncaged
but now I settle for stripes
and leave the feathers to the
drag queens

here it is
nothing worth having
comes easy

nothing worth having
comes at all
so I was feeling sad-ish because I couldn’t have what I wanted to have but hey! there’s a few billion other fish in this crazy pond and
I just had the best day ever.  love Fargo.  love swing-sets, the river, and snowball fights when everything’s melting.  Also I realized that I overthink my writing wayyy too much.  I need to just let it spill out in an obscure mess because that’s when I end up liking it the most.  I edit and edit and edit which kind of kills it.  This one I like though.
and here is some slug for you:

“and if she has the nerve to let me drop a couple last words, I’ma turn to the earth and scream
Love Your Life”


listening to emo music from my childhood.  take a gander (listen?)