fly like paper

I have always been impressed with how you
wield your shrugs
your careful smiles
how your handshakes are always the right amount
of indifferent
I would have liked to see you
dancing oblivious
window-shades open
I would have liked to see you
drunk
you manifest unknowable
you doorless wall
all hard edges and
unfathomably
blank
eyes
I would have liked to see you unmasked
shaking your fist at god
feet bloodied from kicking mirrors
having finally reached the realization that
sometimes there just
isn’t enough apathy
to go around
trying to study. Whenever I’m writing a poem and it seems kind of boring I fix it by making it ridiculously melodramatic and I think maybe that is not the right way to go about things.  also, I will be buying my tickets to Korea at some point this week. kinda nervous. I have never really traveled without my parents and that is sad. 
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and you’re probably addicted to all types of escape

there are things growing
in my fridge or
brain at
night
as though I have wasted everything
unconsumed

I am one year older
and all the constellations speak of a
wildness my feet have dreamed
of touching since I learned how to
consume ink

the future is yanking my name
from his bucket of things to do
the map above my bed screams
so loud
the nails fastening it to the wall
suddenly sharp in my lungs
my shaking hands know only three words
escape
escape
escape

I’m a closet claustrophobic
addicted to a future of
plane-ticket elsewheres

halfway between the here and
gone
desperate to be lost
before my passport expires
 ——-
I hang out with too many foreigners.  Last night my friend told me he could possibly get me a job teaching English in Bahrain next year…. Now THAT is the kind of thing that changes everything.  I really don’t think it will happen.  I can’t.  Things never work out and it’s doubtful this will either.  Plus it would be REALLY dangerous to live there, especially as a woman.

There are two types of people

the stayers, and the go-ers

my brother once took a girl out for sushi, and she said “I only eat American food”

a stayer, a straight. up. stayer.  I told him to drop her IMMEDIATELY because stayers are just not good for go-ers.  I mean, come on..

you really wanna die here? 

among the wheat fields and racist hicks? NO THANK YOU.  I’m sorry I’m always hating on North Dakota… but that’s because I pretty much hate it.  well, to be fair… sometimes I don’t. 

Two short things:

sometimes
perfection
hits
harder than an
ice-cream
truck
harder than a
fifth of vodka

yours absolutely
floors me
—-
 
I.
you tell me:
don’t just curl up
in the darkness and
sleep
if you’ve run out of
candles
why not light the
entire cake on fire?

(there are two more parts to this, but sometimes less is more, ya know?  I will maybe post the full poem in a few days)

“Will you have enough money for Korea if you go to California this Christmas?”

http://mightgetrunovermightgetshot.tumblr.com/
hit up my tumblr if ya like

I wrote this

Skinned Knees, Endless Summer
Peanut butter tastes like
grade school in autumn
my grandfather’s sweater smells
of cinnamon and is the exact shade
of a man staring down an ending
The sun’s amnesia made us
forget the existence of winter
and we only understood years
in terms of birthday cake
we laughed at your little brother
when he got stuck in the toddler swing
at the park
we tore off the huge plastic leaves
on my grandmother’s decorative tree
and pretended we were birds
funny how even though growing up
when you’re that young
is a movie on fast-forward,
we were the ones
least aware of time,
least aware of the
slow-march countdown
to the final sunset
summer’s rules:
if you swing high enough
you might fly
and if you run fast enough
you might live forever.
—-
and this is one of my faaaaaave songs.  emphasis on the a’s.