something like six years ago.

I want to love you like the time we fell asleep in the rain.

Oh so beautiful, so damp, we had nothing else in front of us.

The laughter left between our sheets is still there, I can hear it.

I just want you to love me and no other thing.

Can we go back to the time we first met? In front of the Coffee Shop?

I want to love you where there is no beginning and no reason.

Hold me tight, in between your thumbs as I am gentle.

As gentle as the first picked rose on a summer evening.

I am as gentle as the sea salt breeze that hits your glowing face.

The love we made, right here, on that day when the world

didn’t exist and only we were alive. We danced through the

Lavender bed sheets your mom just washed. We closed

Our eyes until nothing else was there.

The time we laid in your living room, nothing but our hearts

To cover our naked bodies and our souls danced on the ceiling.

Together at last, the cold rain touched nothing but our tin roof.

Remember the first time we made love? That very first time?

My very first time? You know that is important to me. I want that back.

Bring me there now. As a tear rushes down my face,

wipe it away and bring me back to this day.

 Body of water.

Wipe away her lime shaped tears,

With what sits on my lap: a handkerchief.

My eyebrows are so goddamn itchy.

Dig deep into your pocket, for you may

Find a treasure or two.  A purple Quartz

Stone sits in the corner of my left side

Lobe. I can see you standing in front,

Arms as wide as the midnight sky.

But I cannot hear you. All I can do

Is see, I can’t hear anything.

Metal Gates.

Life here is weird. People talk with their eyes and

Wave with their toes. The moon is the sun and

The sun is the moon. The plants don’t grow

In the morning dew. They sleep in the creepy

moon light. Here doors are smaller than the

knobs and the grass tastes like peppermint. 

Goats greet the Queen, as she makes her way in.

A top her head, sits a stuffed duck. She likes

Here men with a Purple Heart and extra poison ivy.

Branches wrap around her ankles lift her above the sea.

The Queen is flying and her Mother won’t stop crying.

This place is so strange.

moon whiskey

The night calls for a moon dance and whiskey.

Naked I will be, dancing on the forest floor.

I can feel roots between my toes. I can

See the night owls above me. Stars lead

The way. Take my hand, set me free.

Nights like these call for lukewarm river

Swims and lounging under the Wolf Moon.

Friday makes me weird.

Because you gave me a clammy handshake.

And my jeans have holes in both knees.

Button shaped eyes make contact with my

Hog head. They want to come in, but I just

Ignore them. The front door opens as an

Old man enters. He comes to me, from

Many seas distance. With him he has a

Map, a glass mug, and advice. He will

Teach me how to grow. How to plant my

Roots deep into the earth. He has his

Left kidney in the glass mug. To give to me.

So I can live forever.  

guys...im addicted.... to buying...scrunchies... i just got 12 in the mail this week and ordered more last night. haha. are is a picture of the items i ordered, including the scrunchies. enjoy:)

 you can hear the sun, as it walks in.

The golden sun horizon creeps through our sheets.

My left sock is off, it must be swimming in our sea of love.

The sheets here smell like lavender love and your soft skin.

Lips touch mine, as the feeling to be free takes over me.

Your eyes glisten, as the shade moves and the sun leaks

In all over our bed and bare skin. We can see why love

Exists while we are in this state of mind.  Our shadows

Dance on the wall, the same way we make love.

Pure, Beautiful, Love.  

Do not comprehend.

I don’t get how one word can have two meanings.

How can this be? How is this so?

One word with two whole different toes.

There are things in this world that confuse me.

And I must confess, this is a mess, I just don’t

believe.

Floating, this house sits.

A house can float.

Houses on water, not on land.

Float on a boat with me.

A House Boat.

Far away, is where I will be.

To find me seems impossible.

But can we get back to land?

This house floats, a whole house.

How can this be so?

A living room, a piano, a kitchen

And even two beds:  floating.

I thought they were built on land.

But here in front of me is where

A house boat floats.

What far away feels like.

She has braids in her hair and a song to share.

Figs, silver rings, and ruby lips.

The words rolled off her tongue like a

Peach falling off a tree, so beautifully.

The birds here change colors, the sun never sets.

Love whispers in the air, a beautiful melody.

Chocolate chip eyes, lips as thick as her thighs.

Here days never end under the lemon drop sun.
Dance with your hips, lick the cherries that drip,

Cold juice down her tongue sits.

Invitation to meet me here.

Meet me on top of the mountain.

You can bring your tea and I will

bring my heart, still beating. In a glass vase, 

with blood dripping down. I can bring my soul too.

Just take every inch of me away.

Let my body drift into the Black Sea.

Come to the top of the mountain with me.
We can discuss the way coffee grounds

Change our dreams and the painted sky.

My Tarot Birth Card ~ So True.

 wood floors

White socks dance on the Farm wood floor.

The black cat has two golden eyes.

The barn door creaks, the hay sits on the floor.

A black crow cries above the Farm Land.

dead bolt butterfly eye.

I have never thought about the butterfly’s eyes.

Oh how beautiful the Earth may look.

Colorful, Magnificent, Charming.

How does it look?

I have never thought about the butterfly’s eyes.

I can see You.

Love lasts as long as you make it.

It can last three trips around the Black Sea and then some.

Love can last through seven hurricanes and one snow storm.

You can find love between the cracks in your floor and on

The salad spoon. Love lies low when you are flying above.

Sometimes you can find love in your chest pocket or even

In your back yard. Tends to come and go, back and forth.

Black and White. Love hides but we see it in every sight.

black polish.

Seems like there is no escape,

Like the world is crumbling, and cracking.

Like my world is melting inside my brain.

There is nowhere for my sad soul to go.

I fear, I reckon, there is nowhere to go.

Rusty Paper Clips.

Sucking the blood out of the cold, today is a villain.

We see him make his way towards us, shuffling.

The air is crisp, it crunches like almonds on a gloomy day.

Sidewalks that appear upside, and men with two noses.

The day shall be conquered by him and I.

Between our eyes and our mind we’ve seen the stories,

We know the tales. Nothing here can stop us,

And we can’t go back now. So make sure

The barn light is on for our three am snack.

Don’t worry about the past, only trek forward.

Only move fast.

mhmmhmm..sliding into monday liiiiiike

Nowhere Land.

Behind me stands the door to Nowhere Land.

Here you can taste the cotton candy clouds

and here only laughter fills the room.

Little girls dance into Oblivion while

The horses race to Mushroom Mountain.

Shoe laces made from candy string, and

Rivers full of soda pop and stars. 

Here in Nowhere Land, only good people exist.

no more.

life drips slowly
off your finger tips.
lips red as roses, they 
glow in the moon light.
your mind sets in,
it's sinking inside
your head.
lies a human
brain.

Creepy Karl.

Nothing can deny, you can see life inside his eyes.

His tongue, hangs out his mouth, sideways.

The bags under his eyes, run for miles.

Ripped jeans, holes for his big toes to breathe.

Death screams his name, but he’s already played, that game,

called Life, you can tell by his lifeless motion.

I can see yellow.

Stains on his teeth, hate written under his breath.

Two large eyes. To see the world weep and shiver.

Lion’s teeth so sharp, cuts your thoughts into twelve.

Sleeping, Sleeping, Sleeping.

Ten toes and ten rings, nothing seems to be missing.

Whistle with his nose, tie his laces in two.

Used his lanky fingers, left hand first.

Sleeping, Sleeping, Sleeping.

Book marks and honey.

I’m in the middle of a huge project.

I must write the daily news for

The Queen as for she has asked me.

This may seem quite normal, but what

Is strange is the Queen wants the

News inside of a mini book.

She wants articles as far back as 1912.

And all inside a tiny book, the

Text is small, an insect can barely read it.

Strange to me and strange to you,

But we can’t question the Queen.

So, I must do.

another pocket poem.

Throw me bare feet and all
into an ocean of dreams. 
Small or big.
Nothing compares to wholesome love.

i see pictures when you talk. 

I need to find that safe space for my human brain.

I see pictures when you talk, I can’t comprehend words.

I need to find a safe space to place my brain.

To open my head, take out my brain, let the fresh air in.

I think of it as spring cleaning, where your sheets are hangin’,

My brain is bangin’, around in my head. It needs to

thrive on the idea of being alone. Inside my head it sits, sits like a stone

But nothing there makes sense. Humans waste time while they try

To rhyme. All I need is a vivid picture inside my human mind. 

happy tuesday, hope things are groovy

Acting like a Moon Child.

My heart is full like last night’s moon.

I will send my dreams of the day,

To the Man on the Moon.

Only for him to tell me I’m fine.

He throws me a line, as he sits

Upon the crescent moon silhouette.

My strength will take me,

To the blue, blue moon.

I swing up the side, underneath

Craters and all.

The Lightening Bugs join me.

The stars turn on, bright.

Yell, my soul screams at the Wolf Moon.

She is the only one that can hear me.

My Moon Child Voice.

My Moon Child.

Scattered above Earth.

Bubble Bath Tea.

I need to take a bath tonight,

The wind just told me so.

I need to take a bath tonight,

I can feel it in my bones.

The water, so hot, feels like silk.

Bubbles float a top of the water.

Bed Time Tea and a book

Will be my only guests.

Tonight I shall take a bubble bath.

Hang my work mind, to dry.

I will ask Ry, if he wants to

Join the Bed Time Bubble Bath.

Salt in my hair.

I remember the first time the sea touched me.

The magnificent water, salt, the sea.

Water that tastes like salt, the sea in my hands.

I feel the seas’ bottom with my big toes.

The morning moon reaches out to us,

So bright, our skin quenched.

The morning moon so graceful, high in the sky.

Little crabs with their new abodes.

Old ones thrown across the sea floor.

Old crabs find new shells, and new crabs

Find old shells to make their homes.

Sand mountains grab you, they bring you in.

The ocean breathes in, the ocean breathes out.

Breathing in, the shells they tumble.

As they tumble, they clatter and shake.

Sea Shell Music is made.

Sea Shell Music is brought out to sea, where

The fish and mermaids can dance free.

Free as can be, free as the sea, free.

Breathing out, the ocean releases.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

As her green-brown eyes watch.

Where does all this extra time go?

I wonder where time goes?

The time that is stuck in between.

In between the dirty dishes and empty beer cans.

Do we save that extra time? Do they charge you a dime?

Where do they put all the extra time?

We hate to waste and we recycle the plastic.

So do we recycle the extra time? Inside a large

Room, is where the time is placed.

Do we hide it for days that seem to fly by?

Days where you can’t get anything done.

We can grab some of that extra time,

And our days would last forever.

Where does all the time go?

i'm crying...this is so goddamn beautiful 

a few reasons why I love you.

Your eyes, as they open I can see my body dance inside them: free.

Your smile, as you shine with all your human teeth: charming.

Your skin, where I rest my head upon after a long day: delicate.

So delicate it brings tears to my lemon drop eyes.

Your laugh, so contagious deep in your belly: silly.

two halves make your soul, broken.

Poor your soul out.

Show me the real you.

Upon this page, is where

Your love will remain, stay.

I can see you are broken:

Two halves make your whole.

Tears that roll down, tired.

You can have this time of mine.

Tell me your troubles, we must go on.

a Stray. 

Don’t forget my heart,

I will love you forever.

My love you will see,

the world as bright as can be.

My love you will hear, the single baby cry.

She is as pure, so pure,  as an angel’s voice.

My love don’t worry, your soul is safe with mine.

My love, your time will come when you see me,

don’t waste time in a state of hate.

Your blind heart is beautiful, she said. 

I only count one star.

Before the time of dust and love

We had the planet.

Love all the walking beings

For there was a tree for everyone.

a Blue stone.

Pass the train, on my way, with a heart full of confidence.

There she is, the little girl, all the way from Spain.

Her hair in braids, one on each side, brown was the color.

Potato colored skin, soft and delicate, time will tell.

Eyes that glow, open the whole room, many souls have lived.

On and on, the years past, now the girl is dead.

Her Soul will live on through her Garden of Life.

I LOVE YOU ALL- going to BT's Smokehouse in MASS! They have BBQ TOFU! SCORE!!!! I will write later tonight.
xxxooo torrr

;)

Friday.

Come home and kick your shoes off

Hit your brother in the head with the phone, huh?

I don’t want your money, I don’t want your drinks.

Don’t worry about me, I can handle this.

Alone is how I like to be, with only me.

When you are alone you can smell better 

And your mind isn't cluttered with other people’s thoughts.

Face.

I see faces in the sea, they have two wide eyes.

I see faces in the trees, they have long noses.

And I see faces in the bees, large eyes and no nose.

I see faces on me, millions at a time.

None of them talk.

Circles Inside Circles.

You know you know which way the wind may blow,

Your hair it flows, while my tiny car goes.

Here.

There.

Everywhere.

You know you know which way the wind may blow,

Your hair it flows, while my tiny car goes.

blue pen.

Touch your lips, only let the sharpness of the thorn touch.

Blood will drip, down towards the floor.

Don’t worry about the mess, I have to do my chores.

Fingernails rounder than the door: knob, don’t be a knob.

two lady bugs.

I will love him again when my soul is ready,

When the red rose rises where only I can see.

I want to reach the top of this ocean with you,

My left hand is open for you, please hold tight.

Our eyes meet, love songs sound so sweet.

Melodies that remind us of bird songs, alluring.

Here we can smell love, sweet and tangy.

If only you look into my eyes, you can

Feel the strength of my love and passion.

The only thing between us, is your elbow

And my mother’s opinion.

Only four fingers.

If you close your eyes and keep following the white lines

Your brain will thank you with a sharp knife and a smile.

The girl next door is weird to me; her second toe is taller than her first.

I noticed her child blow his nose into his purple sock and I laughed.

The woods run deep behind my little abode, the birds, that’s where they sleep.

Sometimes the river calls for help just before the morning sun.

little poem.

i wish for lazy Saturdays and early morning hikes.

clearance yogurt to go please

and bring an extra water 

one for the bees and the other for me.

trying to find my way home.

Drops of angel tears hit my shoulder as I make my way home.

Words scattered in front of me with years of wisdom.

I am afraid of the dark, and down here it’s always dark.

Why throw your shell away and have no home?

I light a candle to find my way as a mushroom man approaches, happy and gay.

“Where oh where my kind lady, shall I lead the way? The forest man is on his way!”

I am still afraid of the dark and now I have a mushroom man leading me home.

 THE UNOFFICIAL END TO THE END.

Dead bones, dry as a desert.

Skin with wrinkles, old as three centuries.

Rugged nails, coffee stained teeth.

Eyes lay low, bloodshot.

Fire is going but I see no flame.

POEM.

Butterfly kisses, baby wishes and sand.

Shoe laces, dirty heels and rice.

Bland oatmeal, bottled water and salt.

back door entrance, no front door.

Honey tea, dog fleas and pencils.

Printer paper, finger nails and tape.

Large pupils, iced coffee and love.

no front door, back door entrance.

little.

i thought i knew love.
life depends on us to feel
and to see how we rise.
fire deep in her soul,
places hard to reach.
all we need is oxygen.

i sometimes. 

sometimes i write my own obituary and
sometimes i wonder what five feels like again.
sometimes i pretend the whole world is in
the palm of my hand and sometimes i
kiss all the stars goodnight.
sometimes i question humanity and sometimes
i wear boy clothes. sometimes i dance with
the sunflowers naked after dusk and
sometimes i wonder what life would be like
with a pocket full of wisdom and
a set of nice teeth. 

Little hands and little toes.

Do you remember when we were little kids and the grass was brighter?

The trees seemed to sit miles high, above my little toes.

I remember when I was small and all the smells, fresh and brand new to me.

Picking flowers seemed to fill my little heart up so.

I thought the Ocean could swallow me whole with all the sand.

I remember being told the shells were crab homes. 

Never too young to sing to the sea, Never too old to remember.

When I was a child, bumble bees would hum me a tune.

And summer days lasted a lifetime, between watermelon smiles and sundresses. 

no one knows.

With rings on his fingers and decisions to make

What stood in front of me was Arthur.

He grew up singing church songs and reciting

The dictionary.  Full of the English language.

What was weird to me was the dirt under his nails

And the way his wife wore lipstick.

It wasn’t the Ruby Red kind.

It was more like the Depths of Death Black.

A cigarette hanging out her luscious mouth

With a pack in her back pocket and the afternoon to kill.

To follow the man back home would be a waste.

Time here is precious and we can’t reuse it.

Count in twos only on Tuesdays and mow

Your lawn only in June.

His words are here to stay and to play,

Tie your shoe and don’t eat glue.

had to write a short story draft for class. here it is:

All I could smell was dead people and cigarettes with a slight note of throat lozenges. Why does everyone in my family smoke like a chimney? While my mind wonders, the room fills with relatives I haven’t made contact with since 1999. Grandmas are talking to aunts and the kids are running around as usual. I do not want to be here, no one wants to be here. Between the old man with a nose whistle handing out memorial cards and the sound of all my aunts whimpering in the corner, I couldn’t take this any longer. I went up to my great grandfather and asked him for a cigarette and his lighter. Without hesitation, papa handed them over to me. I stepped out front where no one could see me. I felt so awkward dressed up. Well I guess you wouldn’t say I’m dressed up after all I am at my Mother’s funeral. I just felt different, wearing a dress with stockings and nice looking dress shoes. This was weird to me, the girl that dressed in loose fitting jeans and a band shirt every day. I couldn’t take all the sobbing anymore. In my mind I know this is a very sad time, but I was dealing with it all internally, like I wished my family would. If it’s not my aunt asking me questions, it’s my older brother showering me with gifts because he feels bad now. If he felt so bad why wasn’t he around before all of this? Why didn’t he show up to any of my birthday parties? Honestly I don’t care right now. As I take the last drag from my papa cigarette I hear someone approaching. “Oh honey you come here” my cousin Irene insisted.  While I’m trying to put out this cigarette she grabs me by the arm and wraps her body around mine. “Please tell me, do you need anything? You know your mother would have smiled to see you in this dress, she loved when you wore dresses.”  Irene was the cousin with twenty cats and red lipstick all in her teeth. She was a sweet lady, nice intentions, but I am in no mood for this. All I wanted to do was crawl in a hole, “No I’m alright” I mumbled. She gave me one last squeeze and held my hand as she continued to make it back inside. I don’t want to be seen with Cousin Irene, so I tell her I have to go to the back room to get my poem ready. When I was the age of ten I realized I wanted to grow up to be a writer. I loved all the creepy fiction books my mother would bring home to me. My mom worked at a library for most of her time and she always brought home books. I remember this one Stephen King book, The Shining, my mother could not get my attention that whole week. I was so engrossed into this book it wasn’t even funny. Books and writing are my life, thanks to my mother.  As I make my way to the back room I remember one thing, the locket. My mother gave me this necklace with a locket attached when I was four. She always told me to hold it close to my soul. Inside the locket was a picture of my mother and I to the right and to the left there was one wish. Mother always told me the story of her necklace locket, and she taught me how to save my one wish.  Now whether this one wish was real or not was my main concern right now. I wear this locket necklace every day of my goddamn life; even if it doesn’t match the outfit, I’m wearing it. As I walk down the dimly lit hall, I see the back room, finally peace and quiet. I see no one around to bother me so I lock myself in the back room. I look for the poem I wrote my now dead Mother. I knew I threw it somewhere in my journal. I have flyers from art shows in this journal, some old concert tickets, bits and pieces of my writings. Finally I spot the poem! It’s my own fault for being so unorganized. I reread the poem a few times in my head just to remind myself of what I wrote. Now I want to stand behind the podium and practice, as if I was in the room full of sad, red eyed relatives. I begin to speak and all of a sudden I feel overwhelmed. Confusing this feeling for what I already feel today, I ignore it and go on. I get to the second line in and all I see is a light; a very, very bright light. I know I didn’t turn the light on in here. I can feel my human body becoming very light: as if my weight was less than one bird’s feather. I’m reading the fourth line now as my body rises, my locket necklace around my neck and my poem in my left hand. All of a sudden I cannot hear myself recite this poem and then my Mother appears. “Honey oh don’t you look beautiful, as if you were the last red rose I see. Come over to me, just give me one last hug please,” my Mother whispered to me. Her delicate lips brushed across my cheek. “I told you sweetie, that one wish really exists.”                   

Dave Matthews Band - #40 (Listener Supported)