oneword: flare

i used to pride myself on my accessories. like a good office space groupie, i called them my pieces of flair. 


but they should have been pieces of flare.


ready. to ignite.

oneword: husband

... not quite yet. but there is hope.

oneword: still

i was sick of couch potato still. sick of tired, aching, self-pity still. sick of being sick still. sick of numbing a brain, dead from stress, with reality tv and that 70's show reruns still. sick of running around all day - rich in movement for the good of others - but leaving no choreography for me still. well. no more. but still.

oneword: artistry

Not just art – good art. The implication of skill. Talent. A standard. But of what, exactly? Technique? Originality? Realism? Emotivism? I may have just made that last word up. I digress… sometimes my favorite works of art are the ones that come out nothing like how I wanted them to. I suppose that means I am an amateur. Good.

oneword: shepherd

Push. Pull. Guide. Lead. Shape. Facilitate. Appreciate. Yes, I still masturbate. But far less frequently. I suppose I need to work on that. Did I ever consider myself a shepherd? No. More like a persistent, whiny person who liked to tell people what to do. Things have changed. But I am still whiny.

oneword: rocket

from far away you look like the mystic thing i need to fly among the starz i so wish i could be. but closer up you are nothing but hard metal and burning flames - a materialistic shell of scientific means. do all of my dreams crumble under realistic schemes to make the ims possible and the moons beam?

sew it seams...

oneword: endless

drive. passion. flair. work ethic. whatever you call it... mine is endless. over achiever. go getter. freak who needs a life. how do you manage? of course you came in on your day off. suck up. why do you always have an opinion? why do you always have to share it? is there anything you aren't involved in?

i get it. i make it crystal. fucking. clear. that you aren't doing as much as you could be. and that bothers you. much easier to blame me. much easier for you to make me look like i am the exception. than for you to step up your game. than for you to push a little harder. sweat a little more. and sacrifice some of that precious facebook time.

oneword: recipies

this parade leads with ingredients that step in time to satisfy needs. to become that happy homemaker your mother never thought you could be. preheat that oven - it isn't actually that horrible of a metaphor - i was hot and ready to go before i had the right ingredients to cook with. that, and the only things i knew how to make were cookies. i watch myself stuff face with the sweets from my past that are so unhealthy and bad for me... and while i am trying to eat right now, that void can't be filled with broccoli.

... no matter how good it is for me.

oneword: wake

somehow simultaneously the death of a loved one and the birth of a new day. somehow i am not looking forward to the latter lately. the beginning of a new year leaves me right back in the mess i desperately wanted to leave behind. too many balls in the air, too few hours in the day. even socializing feels like too much of an effort right now. oh cliched depression, how i've missed you. if there is one thing i have learned in the past year and a half, it's that you are a cyclical being. your lust pounds down on me in waves... my longest running love affair. i still quiver in your wake.

oneword: grown

These baby buds of hesitations and self deprecating questions have been nurtured over time.

By thunderstorm water cans, rainy day sunshine and selfish boy miracle grow... vines now climb to the moon and blossoms are rich and in full bloom.

This garden feels like home and seems to satisfy all of my needs, but upon a closer look the vines are thorned and the flowers are all really just weeds.

oneword: strung

tense and sharp like the strings were pulled too tight. badly out of tune and madly — full of fight. rings around fin­gers around necks. scream­ing lyrics of a lust that hasn’t hap­pened yet. out and up and turned around… where yes­ter­days hap­pen tomor­row and the sky lives underground.

oneword: detour

this is no detour. this is paying your dues. writing this paper is all i have to do. it's all i need to keep my on this path. to get to that place where i can do what i love all the time. i will try to stop complaining. i should be grateful that this is the only thing in my way. it's just a fucking paper.

oneword: fireflies

sometimes the music makes the words better.

oneword: pills

that pucker on her lips isn't there in hopes of a kiss. sour and slumped - no grind. and NO bump. she overfills her days so she can sleep through her nights and emotion overspills into her mind so she can justify her plight. she sits in her puddle of pity pool party excuses and i remember when i was the one spouting the stream of 'it's no use's.

oneword: stack

new years resolutions. piled up hopeful and high with the promises of a better future than i may have let myself believe i was worthy of having.

here it goes. man up.

oneword: pedal

pluck these pretty piece of me
off one by one; need by need.

wear me down slow, work me in quick.
don't let any body know about it.

disappointments turn into doubts
and i think that now i've figured it out:

swear yourself to secrecy
but the bottom line is that
you might just be

... embarrassed to be seen with me.

oneword: spotlight

i can see you clearly now.

... hadn't really been focused before. you were a side note annoyance. something to just deal with... from time to time.

not anymore.

my skin crawls now. painfully -- acutely aware of your presence.

behaviors put themselves on exhibit! just like symptoms on a medical chart. thrust forward. directly. in my face.

sorry. i know. psychology students think they know everything.

must i make case studies out of everyone who puts me

... on a pedestal?

another word: habit

... it creeps back into my internal clock. to wake up. to sit here, patiently. waiting to ignite the keys beneath these... fingers rooted like trees. to remember that there is a beauty about me.

oh! well come home, starz.

oneword: stripes

black. white. black. white. paint me up and down... separate my tomorrows from yesterdays. but i never meant it in the way we say "this is right and you are wrong" because sharp contrasts bleed grey down here... underground. each line of color, threaded tightly to the next... we are not just a random sequence of events.

oneword: handle

instincts pull me to type "i can't handle this."

but is that force really instinct... or habit?

i have been playing the self doubt card for too long. especially because i know that it has been a front from the beginning.

i can handle this. and whatever else you want to throw at me.

... i guess the cop out has been that i didn't really want to.