And someday and sometime and someway and someplace and someone........ I'll be. And somehow, I won't be the same person. And the words you aren't reading over right now while glancing back and forth between sighs of email and typing (the clicking keyboard is such a soothing echo) to unseen faces will still be whispered. Somewhere. They will exist. Is that enough? Probably. It's the probability that makes clocks tick.

When the second hand stops turning, it's a surprise.

Just what is this uncertain beast that beats throughout the day... whether I tell it to or not? Why won't it just leave me alone? And if I'm such a people person, why am I so lonely, without a secret in the world to share? Questions that are answered with words on paper are never vanquished, there is a dimension that doesn't heed reason or logic.

And somedays... the world is to be taken, like a rattle from an infant. Somedays... it's to be bourne... the heaviest of descriptions.

Nothing is ever new. It's just the same candle with a different flame.

And so I am. Someone. No one. As real as the stars you can't ever really see or touch.

When you think I don't understand you it's just because I understand too much.

Abandoned Pools
Gentle; the wind blows across
The face of something untouchable,
Just a second hand in the fairy tale of time
It's a journey, just walking down this street
Across my neighborhoods of pain and
Missing you. Greeting the corner
(29th and Main)
I transverse across to another side,
And resume my walk. Phantoms of forever
Follow in silent attendance, waiting
For their moment to shine. Memories are
Omnipresent as I step across the boundary
And see your face. These were the years of
Life, the place we ran to if we were sad or
Lonely. Lonely lonely lonely. A few
Insignificant leaves jump across my path
Stretching for their home. I can see them
The abandoned pools of our youth, bare
And still that dull blue color that somehow
Sparkles in the summer sun. These abandoned pools,
A milieu so long forgotten by the
Myths of legend.
Misty meories always seem to overshadow
The fact that life has long since left
This place, where even desolation
Has sought refuge away from here.
Now it is a faithless blunder, a simple
Lapsed treasure of long-ago youth. Just like you
In your always-veiled beauty, as you fell and I fell
And swam across these
Days of reverie.
For each other, there can be no other time
The wind blows harsh, removing the summer forever
Yet
In the spectacle of love I can still hold you
Kiss your face, hear your voice,
And fade away from these forgotten,
Abandoned pools.

Something a little different... titled "Ha" because well, I couldn't think of anything else better. Any title suggestions?

You'd grown used to her scent on your sheets
and outlined the curves of her body.
You could tell where every freckle lay
and her favorite place to be touched and kissed.
You know for a fact that she looks more beautiful
in moonlight than daylight,
and you know she knows you know.

You know the way her lips move when she smiles
and goes up more on the left than the right.
That imperfection makes her more perfect.
You've memorized the way her hair feels falling,
through and around your fingertips.

You remember the way her skin felt like the ocean
running up your body in single sessions,
then leaving you to lick up its salts.
You would watch her as she slept in your arms
and how every now and again she would sigh.
You would sigh.

You would always remember the way
she would brush her hair out of her eyes,
each time before she would kiss you.
The way her lips tasted like strawberries
and how they felt like love upon your face.

You remember the way her laugh sounds,
and you can remember how every morning
you would find something new about her.
You've memorized the way her eyes looked in the dark
and the way her arms wrapped around your chest.
You can still hear the song she would sing,
her musical notes would be left dancing in your head.

This is how you wanted to remember her.
This is how you would.

But now,
you've grown used to the empty rooms in the house
and how you would leave the TV on for company.
How you fall asleep at night without her warmth
and how everything echos days later.
You've grown used to tracing her shadow on the walls
and holding her scent until
it slips
away.

It was always slipping away.

I had to make up for the past couple of entries... I hope you enjoy it, I actually for once think something I wrote is pretty good. Christine did too (yeaa JuJu!!). Comments appreciated (nudge nudge wink wink).

Your Song.
And it was so unexpected. Just the break of morning that day was enough to let me emerge from my clouded sleep and rise to a sky full of empty. I let my thoughts roll, and raised my cares to the light, so that they were lilted as a forgotten memory. And maybe just something, something other....... something farther and farther from within suggested that it would be special, but heed was tossed on the same wind as my cares. I woke you.

I woke you again.

I woke you again, and slid into your voice, letting it carry through my ears, and breaking a silent smile.

I woke you, and then saw you, even if you didn't really think you deserved to be seen. I kissed your forehead, and looked to that same sky that floated delicately above, watching the passionate hues of sun-slumber curl from the distant line of day-end. And your touch was a sea against the plain of fertile ground that skirted past all the homes of man and wild here, something I could always drink in and still be thirsty for. If I were to fall asleep in your arms, I would fight everything that tempted to wake me.

Pity humankind, those silent ones who secretly die on the inside; fill it with even more nothing until they are not non-existent, but un. Unexistent. It's not like that, with you. The icicles of the distant that slowly dragged themselves across the scars of my back, my past, pressing into my heart, blazing against my lungs, it all fades to a crescent silence when I hold you. Because you are everything you think you aren't, and the same pains of your past that make you want to die a thousand deaths if only you could get away, get away from the shattering realism that yes it still hurts and yes you and I still love and it just won't stop because we can't stop and I don't even know if I want to (If I could just simply find a glowing ring to encircle your head). But the sirens that cry to you from the sea and drag you beneath its darkened depths can't compete with us, even if it's only for this short time, I still make you smile, and I still can shatter the pain for a few seconds with a kiss. And your oh-so-beautiful (not pretty) eyes and stare even take me for a slide on the rainbow of a whim from 1 AM.

I didn't realize.

And when the incredible joy danced over your countenance, and I saw something that was completely pure and untouched and full of splendor, it was then I realized I would never forget you. This time it was my turn to take you for a ride on a shining star, shooting its unmistakably brilliant fingerprint across the dayspring universe. (Do you remember that you've always had someone to hold at midnight, and this time we were the only things that existed between Earth and that single, perfectly bright glow of the heavens?) Magnificence has it's place in the shadows, for if it was an on the hour attraction no one would care anymore. But you, you you you you, could hold me until the radiating wanderer burned itself out and died. Even though it was cold outside, we still took the air and ran.

And it was so expected. The waterfall that hits you and takes your stomach down, down, down, and then plunges it into a river of white water; I knew it every time I held you. Amid a darkened sky we watched and waited... for nothing. Nothing was enough, for us.

So. Some nights later, I can't help but miss you. Your face in my thoughts, so real that I could almost speak to the better-than-perfect mind's eye picture and expect a response. I don't want this to end, but it has to. We both know that, even in our embrace. That doesn't stop me from tracing the face that perhaps means too much, the kind calm gaze I see staring at (into) me. I rest in the shelter of your arms, and fall victim to your voice, soothing, touching, emotional. If only we could be on a night-covered beach, or clasping each other beneath the ocean's waves, then perhaps it would be all too flawless, so that even the face in the moon would peek out to wish us happy tidings. The water's submersive touch would just be a mirror.

You asked me to write about you. I wrote about us. It is what moves me, being around you. And so it goes. And so I write.

Maybe some days later, we will candlelight out on a slice of bare Terra, holding each other from the rustlings of night's veil. We will lie on our backs, and gaze to the magnificence above us, smiling as we boldly challenge the stars to match our aura's as they intertwine with a touch, an embrace, a kiss. Then talk about how it all started (I remember the first time I ever saw your face). So wonderful. So..... unexpected.

All I know is; forever is a precious moment's second when I gather and hold you in my arms.

Excuse me, please, while I lie down on my back and the entire male population of the Milky Way Galaxy runs up and forms an orderly line and grabs a number in order to fuck me.

His brand of humor stopped amusing most people in the fifth grade (as late as eighth grade if you were a hardcore alcoholic, a "late bloomer", or just strange), yet he persisted because some people laugh for the sake of laughing. You know, the type of people who think on the internet, "Well, that may or may not have been funny, and I am a stupid sheep, so I'll just type 'LOL' for the sake of syntax."

Now, he is a full blown asshole, as well as a pedophile. Since no girl in her right mind (even the skanky slutty heroin addicts the junior class has in abundance) would have anything to do with him, the pathetic child courts girls who could easily be mistaken for his little sister. Every encounter with him is an encounter to regret, and today was no exception.

Boy, I really hope he's serious when he talks in class about comitting suicide. I'd offer to pull the trigger for him, but unfortunately, this isn't the Netherlands. I guess I'll have to just drop hints in class from now on. "So, when are you going to kill yourself?"

I am such a whiny bitch sometimes. Jesus Christ.

No real entry today... just a lot of random scattered thoughts. Go me!

I am going to be a geek rock goddess.
Try and stop me.

I don't mind that we're growing distant. I'm happy that you're happy and I'm happy too. But I don't know what I'm going to do when they're all gone and I'm going to have to start all over again. But I'm not going crawling back to being your sniveling pet in a cage weeping for you to go out with me on the weekends.

I don't wear my necklace. It's a lie. But it was a valiant effort, I think. It didn't work, of course, but I did try.

Tomorrow is the day of reckoning. Tennis match in pain, facing my stupid decision to skip SATs, and the partially-started AP work may (or may not) be turned in. Or else I will just develop the SARS virus overnight and you will not be tortured with my company. I know that will kill you.

You're like a Chameleon. You surprise me everyday with a new you and it's confusing.

It needs to become sunny again. Sun= warmth.

I have no idea why I'm still awake, I really need to go to bed.

I am horrible at balancing my time with people.

I hate how you can be friends with someone one second and then all of a sudden you don't talk anymore. It slowly creeps up on you. You don't realize it at first and then when you do it's a huge slap in the face. It's really sad and I don't like it.

If General Electric's motto is "Imagination at work", then what were they thinking when they invented the minigun? "I'm going to kill everybody at work"?

"What's a little statutory rape between friends?"

Yeah, I really suck at being cheerful. Then again, everybody else sucks at it too. Oh well.

There are kicks in my attention defecit disorder. I got around to actually writing more journal (I think I'm going to have some more fun mit die Scheinfeder), so I forgot where I was going with this. Oh look, a button!

Yo mama has a wooden leg, and plays street hockey.

I am very "people reading over my shoulder"-phobic, mainly because they piss me off when they do it. "You spelled that wrong" or "That doesn't make sense" or any other number of stupid little hints that I don't want to hear. To put it in fewer words, my mother broke my train of thought, so I'm just going to click that little button that says "Publish" now.

I sound really angry... oh vell

And now, ladies and gentlemen, I present you with womanly bitching.

Having your period is not honestly that bad. I think it's a wonderful experience. Not only is it, in a Health movie kind of way, the joyous realization of your own fertility, the special knowledge that you are capable of creating anew the miracle of human birth and life, not only all of that, but it is an excellent excuse to be a raging psychopath, to eat much more chocolate than any rational human being would consume in a year, and to do poorly at tennis.

It's really a win win win!!! situation minus the whole torture aspect.

Isn't that the biggest load of crap ever? :(

Flatout STOLEN from another's blog ;)

1. Name one song you hate to admit you like.
Sean Paul - "Get Busy"

2. Name two songs that always make you cry.
Lonestar - "Amazed"
Incubus - "Stellar"

3. Name three songs that turn you on.
LL Cool J - "Doin it"
Keith Sweat - "Nobody"
Freeway - "Flipside" (don't ask...)

4. Name four songs that always make you feel good.
The Starting Line - "Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now"
Long Beach Dub All Stars - "Rolled Up"
Motion City Soundtrack - "The Future Freaks Me Out"
Punk Cover - "Build Me Up Buttercup"

5. Name five songs you couldn’t ever do without.
Further Seems Forever - "On Legendary"
Incubus - "Echo"
Jets to Brazil - "Sweet Avenue"
The Juliana Theory - "August in Bethany"
Saliva - "Rest in Pieces"