Remembrance

how strange memory is...
like a sheet of thin linen
draped over ones eyes
like a warm ghost
passing through thought
like a SoCal breeze
dripping in color

memory forever glazes the present with your past.
it is something like a paper with all its characters brutally erased;
yet one can still see that markings were once present.
what is left is merely an imprint of what once was
a fleeting thought
a vivid sense
a bottled impulse

staining the walls of unconsciousness with its pungent aroma 

Over your head

You wade out into the water.

waste deep you feel safe,

enveloped and cradled by it's salty sway.

that is until the gentle current turns ugly,

and the violent strokes swipe at your feet

so that you spiral downward into its unholy arms

then suddenly you feel its cold fingers gripping around your neck

squeezing the air out of your chest with tied hands

choking you down with a mineral smile;

unable to break the surface of its undertow,

you struggle to breathe

and it allows you just enough air to survive, but not enough to keep you sane

you fight it and fight it... but there is no existence above water

in fact there is nothing else any more

except for this inescapable tank we call a life.

Busy

No more busy signals
they are obsolete
instead the opportunity to bare your heart and soul...
in a byte they will delete

to be deleted
to be ignored
to be rejected
to be deplored

Id rather hear that persistent clang
that assures me they are busy
than feel the slow persistent pang
of knowing they purposefully missed me

It Might As Well Be Spring

Spring Cleaning

You have given me a manner of days

To sort through my closet,

To dust off my psyche,

And organize my thoughts.

But my mind is clean,

My thoughts may not be neatly organized but my feelings are pure.

If you ask me to extract any reason from the heap of thingers on my bed

I will just shrug and tell you that it is not possible.

These thingers cushion my head as it falls upon its pillow

They enwrap me with comfort and warmth as I dream.

Without thingers all there is,

 Well its nothing but sterile space. 

Wallpaper Valentine

The glue drips and sticks to your hands
messy messy
I neatly fold my legs
I wait and wait
watching the glue dry
joining the tiny imprinted hearts with your canvas
tiny plump specks young and perfect
spattered against your walls


you wash the mess from your hands
I wait, eyes steady 
 watching the paper hearts shrink and harden


I pulse and panic
and unable to restrain my passion
I tear through the paper
ripping through the pink splotches piece by piece
stripping your valentine from the walls of this house.
I take the strange dots into my mouth
and I grind, and chew, and swallow
taking back my heart into my own body


leaving blank and bare the room
which was once ours

Open Monogamy?

Today I read an Article about married couples who engage in open monogamous relationships. They are not swingers per se, but every once in a while they will hook up with with some one on a business trip, or a vacation with the acknowledgement of the other partner. What I have to say about that is how does jealousy not work its way into the situation? Even with open relationships with people who are unmarried, the variable of another partner brings mixed feelings into the equation of any relationship, unbiased to the status of such relationship. Even in the article the writer acknowledged the fact that her own tryst outside of her marriage did not end well, yet the conclusion of the article was in favor of couples experimenting with this open monogamy.

Please some one get me a bear tranquilizer because right now I am myself feeling these said pangs of jealousy. It is unfair to either side of the relationship to be involved in anyone else other than the person you are "with".

but it seems to be more acceptable for men, than women to have these outside interests and sexual endeavors, why are we so quick to forgive? Is it that we as females are naturally wired to be more committed or faithful these male "counterparts". In the article it stated that we as a human species are meant to have more than one partner throughout our lifetime. It states that it goes against our nature to have one life long partner, our ancestors for instance shared food and shared sex. Have we contradicted our very nature by adhering to these structures of devotion within our relationships? 

The Original Hipster

Hipsters (also referred to as scenesters) is a subculture of young adults and older teenagers with musical interests mainly in alternative rock. Hipster culture has been described as a "mutating, trans-Atlantic melting pot of styles" combining all elements of the "fringe movements of the post-world war era, including but not limited to hippie, beat, grunge, punk etc". Hipsters draw upon the "cultural stores of every ethnicity" and "regurgitates it with a winking inauthenticity". The hipster signifies the crystallization of a mediated stereotype generated to categorize marketize the indie consumer culture. 
If you are looking for a prime location for hipster observation, NYU is 90% hipster so chances of stumbling upon one while anywhere in the village is quite high.
Happy Huntings!