a Jane Austen letter

Isn't it strange how, not so very long ago it seems,
I could look in your eyes and wish to dive into them -
to swim in those deep black pools in which I saw love
or more recently, sadness.

But today, though indeed your green eyes grew no shallower -
in fact, may have grown deeper, in light of that which I am soon to recount -
I could gaze clearly down through those ever-dark pupils,
with the water unclouded by thrills or enticement.

How odd it was! surely, to find myself loving - in truth,
not in fantasy - who you always have been.


It was you, my dear friend, I delighted to see.

why has God only given us 15 thousand billion years left - to live - before the sun dies?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WQak6ng0RXQ

WATCH THIS SO MANY TIMESSS

the surface project (23)

Describe your day:

today i almost got frostbite -
you know, that biting cold
suddenly painful feeling
that makes you scream
HOLY CRABCAKES I CAN'T FEEL MY HANDS -
because i tried to scoop out
a bowl of ice cream
with my fingers

please don't be lazy.
just wash the ice cream scoop.

the surface project (45)

Any lyrics in your head?

there's nothing he can say or do
to make me keep from wanting You
prince charming's heart is not success
if in it lies no happiness

i just keep on running faster
chasing the happily ever after

prose makes me cry.

excellence happens
in the absence of words
when you recognize the truth
in the poetry
you didn't
write

little black drum song

every once in a while
with a little gold key
i unlock my chest
and take my heart out
it sits on my nightstand
and pulsates and beats
with a healthy red glow
and the song of a drum

as of lately, my dear
with my little pink fist
i tear open my chest
and rip my heart out
it's cast on the floor
and it shudders and cries
with a scar down its center
- it's not singing

as i sit here and stare
at my little black heart
there's a hole in my chest
and it keeps on growing
i lie on my bed
and i ache and i'm sorry
i know that your heart
is more injured than mine

this poem is a bad poem.

i could write a poem with words
- you know, those things? with letters? you know? -
but it's not the same

i could tell the story with my lips
- you know, those things? on your mouth? you know? -
but it doesn't come out right

because the words aren't me, see

the story makes the important grow dimmer
- and the trivial intensify
i'm writing cohesive and saying straightforward
- while my insides are churning
the words seem to be saying something
- i don't even understand

hit me with it straight up

hit me with it straight up
i'd rather not wait till we're crying on the floor
only to find that we're neither one hurting

hit me with it straight up
put the sorrows on the soundwaves
so we can see their shivers shake

hit me with it straight up
trying to scrub out the pure black sheet of ugly
it hangs between our faces even as it fades to grey

hit me with it straight up
as hearts and words and dangling modifiers unscramble
but love knows no grammar; our sentences stay choppy

hit me with it straight up
brace yourself for shattered patches
watch the broken recongeal to something scarred and new

my whole life is a lie and i love ittt

i want to write a happy poem
maybe a love poem? i don't know
today's a day for a happy poem
a happy, sappy, mostly crappy
trippy trappy
happy
poem
.
i want to write a happy poem

hey!
look!
i just did.

the surface project (25)

Do you find it hard to trust others?

i can say a lot of words
but sometimes i'm lying

you've mastered the art by now
of seeing the silence in my eyes

there's love enough to do the impossible
to listen to what goes unsaid

everyone says only a nasty girl
will make you read between the lines




speak a little softer
so i can hear you

the concentrated crystal

this trippy title tells a tale
of amethyst alliteration
where lots of letters like to link
in corny chemical complication




this is what we do in ap chem class.