wow...its been more than a year since i've last written here. i really never expected to stop, but my computer is absolutly horrible these days. well, these months, this year...however you want to put it. so, since i've stopped writing here i've kind of stopped writing altogether, but i've been starting up a bit again? i'm more into poetry now, though i'm absolutle trash at it. it's a nice outlet though.

i guess i will try to post some here at some point, if my computer decides ever to function normally again, or next time i come to the library.

a lot has changed since last year, but i guess it's good to grow in some ways as a writer? i dont know... everyone says it's much more useful to be miserable, it gives you material, but it came so much more naturally when i was happi(-er).

have a wonderful springtime.

when things seem hopeless,
just lift your head up to the heavy sky,
and blow them beautiful butterflies a kiss.

rough?
(it makes sense to me)

oh, how she dances through the mist, through the stress and the love and the distance that seperates her from the rest of the world; she dances through the rain and through the new york clouds, and through the techno beats and the sweet smell of charcoal in central park and the gorgeous boys who draw the rain covered streets. the gorgeous boys who listen to the mix tapes she makes them while they draw. they let their wrists flow to the beats of each song, letting the songs do the drawing and their hearts do the listening;
she was like that. she made people's hearts listen. she never did like to listen with her ears, her teachers always said so, but she was always so above them in everything.
she has silk eyes that know truth and beauty and pain. she has a curved mouth that knows every word to say on the phone line to make him feel the passion and the fury that she knows too well. she has small wrists that clang with every bracelet and every bangle hanging down, bangles that cover the moon patches that have experienced cliched scars, but she is so much better now, so much less cliched.
her gorgeous charcoal boy told her that every day is a new beginning when he first saw the scars. her gorgeous charcoal boy tells her everything she knows, mostly wispered into her silky moon-colored ear. oh, she loves her charcoal boy, with his eyes like life and his fingers like a train on the tracks, outlining every curve on her fragile body, every turn in her fragile emotion.
gorgeous charcoal boys never stay for long in her apartment, when her yelling man comes in and hits her they leave. sometimes they try to hit back; mostly they flee. sometimes they come back and take her, lead her down the fire escape into the night streets and away from her yelling man. sometimes she stays on the night streets for weeks, but she always comes back to her yelling man because he is a constant, and her gorgeous charcoal boy is just a variable and she wishes she hadn't always been so good at math in junior high.

every single piece of love she feels vibrates through her soul lying in bed at night
she used to need an escape and now she needs to be here, in the air, in the girl's bathroom, on the floor in french class
oh, and it's never been better, she'll promise you that with earnest eyes and trusting hands because she is just so in love with life on these afternoons and for once she knows she is loved back.
and life is just so incredible now;;

<3

ps. i will try to write something real sometime, but this is as real as it really is and i love it.

i have never been happier.
my friends are the most amazing people ever.
there is no way to even begin to describe my feelings right now;
but i will try my hardest to channel it into writing

<3