forget that you know me

it's not that i don't want you to know me, because it's more that I don't really want to know you. but it's more than that; it's that i don't like when my old world and my new world collide and create another world in effect. in fact, go ahead and create a new world and i just won't be part of said new world's species. i'll live on another planet, preferably all alone. except i'd want their to be time... and smoothies. an innumerable, inexhaustible amount of smoothies. but not for you. or you either. but for me. all for me.

LO!!!!

iambic pentameter

Shakespeare, you are the man.



BIRON: How low soever the matter, I hope in God for high words.

LONGAVILLE: A high hope for a low heaven: God grant us patience!

BIRON: To hear? or forbear laughing?

LONGAVILLE: To hear meekly, sir, and to laugh moderately; or to
forbear both.

BIRON: Well, sir, be it as the style shall give us cause to
climb in the merriness.


lo

to the Lions.

After a week of 9-7s dedicated to the beautiful insanity that is my daily grind, I will no longer sacrifice my 7 to midnight hour on aimless thought. Yes. Spare the Christians I declare; throw the aimless to the lions. Once again, I will slay the sleep that burdens me and burn the brain inside.

Wordily yours,
Lo

women, i've had enough

Women, I've had enough of how similar you all are. Of how cookie-cutter cliche your truest of true ambitions are. Suddenly you turn 30 and no longer are you competing on how hot you look, how nice your clothes and accessories may be, but on how many kids you have and how cute they look in baby polo. It makes me want to gag. It's not even that you let your dreams fall to the waist-side. It's that you never really cared to have dreams in the first place. It's all very disheartening and hard to take. I'm glad my happiness lies in the satisfaction of my obsessive compulsions and addictions as opposed to the fulfillment of standards typical of the modern woman (which, more often than not is hinged on the presence of a man.) No thank you.


LO
My ocd and I had a wonderful weekend, stereotype free.

if i was good to you

i was at the computer, reading lyrics from the screen. I was singing star spangled banner. I wouldn't say I'm much of a singing talent, but the american national anthem is my exception. You were in the kitchen - probably stirring sauce or cutting apples. These actions will forever be synonymous with you (the feeling of you nearby).

and you were listening. and you liked it. you hummed along. i did everything around you. you saw me do and say the most vulnerable things a person could imagine. the most embarrassing. it astonishes me how any of us function without you? you may have been losing since i was 8 years old, but you were the rock. you were our rock. oh captain, my fucking captain.

i had a thought that maybe i wouldn't. but i knew i would on this day, ask the questions that rape me continually. (probably voluntarily too.)
i had a thought that maybe i wouldn't. but i did anyway.
how many times did I yell at you? how many times did I grab you by the wrist and say, "fuck off and die"?
how did I do it? What's wrong with me?

i never meant it. not once.




http://www.poetry-online.org/whitman_o_captain_my_captain.htm

Columbine

In the past year I've deleted almost 150 "friends" from Facebook. And every time I log on, which is rare nowadays, I peg off a few more. And for various reasons. At first it was mostly because if I refer to you within quotation marks, you're not really my friend - nor do either of us care to make any effort. But now it quite simply could be because of an annoying post, an inexcusable use of an emoticon, your display picture with you and your boyfriend (by the way I'm glad you're no longer depressed) or especially this new trend of using only your first and middle name. These middle names are always so unbelievable too. Like "Kylie" or "Ryanne" - as if kids born in '87 have these new-age names? It's a little confusing, and a whole lot unsettling. And I'm into healthy digestion so I'm just going to avoid these 21st century trifles because I have the control to do so.

I haven't deleted it yet. But oh, I'm close. And each day each and everyone of you "cool people" push me closer to the edge.

A simple bang BANG. And it'll all be over. And I won't say goodbye to any of my facebook friends.

Lo
Final thoughts: Could Facebook have prevented or contributed to the shootings in Littleton?