We cope in the
strangest ways.

I immediately go
to that dark room
curtains pulled

with your soft skin
hovering over me.
Your breath
your fingertips
sailing effortlessly
yet intently
over the plains of my body.

We created heat
just being on the same planet.
The cosmic force was
undeniable and intense.

I have loved you and I have
craved you and I have
hated you.
But I always go back to that room.

You left at dawn
in tears.
Your life was waiting
in different rooms.

I wonder if in the stillness
of a sleepless night
you ever go back there
to that room
and that heat
and those minutes that flew by
like dust
in a windstorm.

a grub in this
lot of weeds and dead leaves
that's you

you rise to the highest point
of the dead things
and proclaim yourself queen

you scream and shake
and over-caffeinate
and secretly wish you could do anything

as well as me

hope hope
wait wait
try again

think about what I
want out of
life

it's one thing one day
and something different the next

committing with eyes closed
has always worked best
don't think too much
just do

then we'll dig out
or revel in the soil

Ghosts have been
Popping their heads out
Of the strangest corners lately
And so predictably

Going to bed mad
Is my subconscious' equivalent
Of a Chopin novella

So much scandal

And not an ounce of guilt or regret.

It was vivid and actual
this wake-sleep,

just like it used to be.

That sucking, gaping vacuum-
that feeling in my chest,
the desperation and longing-
that hating the leaving, but still
needing to be left

just for that feeling.

The reuniting and oh
the scandal.

It's the sideshow in me
that it speaks to.
If you give me twenty minutes
I could hook you for life.

My little fish
on the line, but with
much more power than
you will ever know.

It's like muscle memory
only with weather

It comes around when the seasons change
but mostly in autumn

or on holidays
or during football season

I'm a grown woman now
things should wear off
be different

I imagine what it would be like
to see you again
we'd exchange pleasantries
and pretend we didn't want to say
the things that needed to be said
but just for a while

then we'd say them

And I'd cry and scream at you
for not being the man
I knew you could have been

And you'd curse at me
for not accepting you for who you were
and we'd dance around the
loss
es.

Nothing was ever good
I don't know how it's possible
that one can miss
an idea, a wish,
something that never was
for so long

It sickens me.

you wore that shirt you always wear
you know the one
with the pearl snaps and
the sleeves you roll up
and push up over and over again
unconsciously in the middle of a story

I don't know if your hair was
up or down
it didn't matter

you caught me off guard
when you put both arms around
me
and pulled me close
cheek to ear
breath hot on my skin
(my heart leapt)
you whispered

you're the best friend I've ever had

I awoke
disappointed

Some days the nights seem
too far away
And my happy thoughts just turn
to gray
and this poetry
it doesn't move me

But your muddy eyes like
a winter rain
They draw me in and
make me stay

Could it be so sad?
Is this life so bad?

I'm a silly girl
with complicated ways
you think you'll change me
one of these days

you'll try
and you'll cry

but please stay

girlhood.

I guess it's just something
I thought would pass with
time.
The whole world said it.
They conspired from the very beginning.
Lined it out.
Stacked it up.
Here's the path. Do it right.
I must have really thrown them
for a loop
those few years in college
when I made a deal with myself
to only date married men.

But I stopped.
Because one of them decided to marry
me.

And so now I'm wondering
when the growing up happens.
And what does that mean?
I look at the calendar and
I can see the years,
but the 7th grade handwriting of a girl
so full of longing that
she would sell her soul to Satan himself,
still fills my bookshelves.
And the girl who gets drunk
and naked
and jumps into the nearest body
of water
seems to consistently make her presence known.
And it's doubtful she's tired
of her late night tirades.

I'm beginning to think this "growing up" thing
is a figment someone's tried to sell us
Like June and Ward,
with her Valium and OJ.
And maybe this step,
this committing and this trying,
is something that will only make me
that much more alive.
So maybe it is a growing--
but a perpetual means in itself,
not an end.

It's come to this-
shame and guilt and fear
and a couple years.
(Has it really gone so fast?)
I try not to see you
across the room,
and still try to move closer
to see if you can stand it
without buckling
caving
craving.
Do you remember springtime?
The middle of the night
lying on our backs
between the trees and gravestones?
You cried.
You always cried.
I kissed your tears--
I was a foolish girl, far from home.
But you weren't,
were you.
The one day you didn't beat the postman to your door.
You had a decision to make--
and you did.
(I can't believe she let you.)
There are nights
I know
when you're alone
in the silvery glare of midnight,
you toss and turn still
afflicted
tortured
and craving softness in the
wee morning hours,
none is to be found.

And I hate you more than I thought I could.

i walk alone
on this road
sometimes i think it's best
but i find in time
i need you
to put the demons to rest
I reach for you
against my will
a force that pulls your way
emptiness
it finds my hands
and fills my soul today

I have so much
to tell you
but it's never the time
your world is crowded
with love and mysteries
like war crimes

this need in me
was born in me
try to kill it til it's dead
i keep wanting
what you can't give
and it's messin up my head
you're the one
who promised
you would lead me back
but you keep adding
twists and turns
and marking up the map


I have so much
to tell you
but it's never the time
your world is crowded
with love and mysteries
like war crimes


did you know i watch you
when you think
i'm not there
i wonder if you hear my voice
at night in your prayers


you pray
i'm on my knees
you plead
i try to please
what should come for free's
too high a cost
i can't pay and
sometimes I get lost

I love how some days, something will hit you square between the eyes, like while your doing laundry or just lounging around in general. Like days when you're trying to lead as inconspicuous a life as possible, and making your best attempt at being totally normal. And it comes to you in seconds. And it's usually life altering, or at least presently life altering. And you get a good look at yourself in the mirror someone else holds up. A good day is when the picture is prettier and more perfect than you thought. But more often than not, and today is one of those days, it's a horribly nasty image that you can't even bear to look at.

What have I done to myself? And why do I keep doing it? But what does it mean that it doesn't even occur to me to feel bad until someone else insinuates there's something wrong with me?

When it happens it never even occurs to me to say no. This is not normal from what I gather. I should say no more often, but I don't mean it. So isn't that the equivalent of telling a lie? Why am I so wrong for this? And why do I feel like I should be walking down Robinson with smudged mascara and holes in my fishnets? And why are the only people who want to hug me, betraying someone else to do so?

Sealing the Deal

I think you'd better come over.
I think
I
just
might.
Don't you love
enduring two hours
of subtitles
when the vodka flowing
through your veins
is so thick
everything looks like
a fabulous sea kingdom?
Watch!
Watch!
Ok, I am...
trying not to pass out.
Get to it if you're gonna.
But he makes me wait.
And he has from the
very
first
time.
Then it's fingers
and tongues
and mouths
and fingers
and tongues
And more words
and Oh
Oh
Oh.
And part of me thinks
I pressed him too hard
but he folded me in
like no one ever has
And he's done everything
right the
first
time.
And he doesn't even like me.

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By her side I sleep as a child, and in that I long to be with her, to tell everyone that I have hidden her from that this is the woman I love, the woman I truly FEEL with, and with that comes my peace. Restless evenings. Sleepless nights. She has answered all with her touch, the way she feels. That is my salvation.

**Written by someone else. It was a touching sentiment. It also turned out to be total bullshit.**

So all the quietness has forced me back to the dark side and I find my seedier voice wanting to come out and play more often. So I figure I should comply...

I was reminded again tonight
of my perfection
My round parts in all their gloriousness
They are the subject
Of so many
late night
low light
Binges on ice cream and mac n cheese
XL T-shirt pulled over my knees
bent up and pressed into the instigators
as I sit and stare at the moving pictures
On the silver screen in front of me
And try not to think about what I'll look like
when I pass the mirror on the way to the bathroom
To puke it all up
He won't love me
Nobody wants to talk to the fat girl
And damned if all sense doesn't hit me like a
mac truck
And I think about one night
of my life
when it all changed
We were laying in bed naked
talking
about nothing in particular
when he got up
stood in front of the mirror
And said come here
he grabbed my arm and pulled me out from underneath the
covers
He held me by the shoulders
from behind and I crossed my arms to keep from seeing all of it
Me
he pulled my arms down to my side and said
Look
This is gorgeous
This
is sexy
This is why I'm here
And not somewhere else
And we stood quietly
Then I promptly thanked him
And I struggle every day to remember
That all girls have jiggley parts
Even the little ones, they just jiggle a little less
That's how we were made
To be softness to fall into
And out of and into again
And damn if I could just
Get
A
Piece
So I'm putting the good little inhibited girl into hiding
And letting the big loud dirty messy GORGEOUS girl
Out to play

It's been coming up alot lately. I heard a song this morning that took me back.

We were laying in bed one night. I thought he was asleep. He rolled over and wrapped his arms around me and whispered, We could make this work. I pretended I was asleep. He kissed my hair and rolled over. I cried myself to sleep.

Two days before I left town we went to lunch. I looked across the front seat at him. He said, We can do this. I'll sell the truck, we'll get an apartment. We can be a family. I cried. And I told him no. I was scared to death. What was I supposed to do?

So he did it with someone else.

And now he says it was all for the best, except for one thing... I was the one he wanted.

I've decided to be real
F the readers
F the onlookers
and their fishbowl
You don't know me
You never will
Not like him
I won't let you

It was such a weird night set off by an incredibly fortunate and unsuspected succession of days, this way we catch time and seal it in our grip and call it a week. I felt it in my bones hours before, that this would be different. He kept saying you're stalling. And I was. I didn't know why but there was a sweet one-winged angel standing to my right crying a single tear and smiling. I didn't know why she had come but I felt it all. And it made me move slower and more gently.

Not long after I arrived I realized what her tear was for. It was for prying eyes and loneliness and jealousy. And the missing wing... it's something that had to be made the best of. Maybe just one more shot to get it right. And I felt my neck getting red the way it always does when I forget to cover it. And I remembered, she smiled. She smiled. Across the room I see him standing alone. I mouth the words Let's get out of here. And for the next three hours and fifty-nine minutes he made sure I got every penny's worth out of that broken smile.

The thunder was so loud. And when it stopped all I could think was how rhythmic his breath was and how it made my body move. His fingertips felt like feathers that only caressed the most revealed of places and still I shuddered. And the rain kept time on the windows and we pressed it between us until we were ready to let go. And then I did. And then I did. And then I did. He curled in close behind me and soothed every fear that originated years and years ago with one calming touch of his right palm. And the tear came back. Fingers through my hair, legs intertwined, I love you. A kiss and more tears.

He cries when he leaves me.

name: Daisy Girl

location: tha hood

hair color? reddish-brown, for the moment

eye color? bluish/greenish depending on what I'm wearing

age? 24

sexiest man ever? ...EVER? Hmmm. Ben Affleck.

do you like your breasts? Yes, i'm a fan :)

color of your bathing suit: hot pink and white

is it better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all? I guess. But it's not much fun.

give me a book, movie, CD, and song recommendation. Ethan Frome by Edith Wharton (a tragic and frustrating love story about what happens to people who aren't brave enough to go for what they want), Girl Interrupted (and the book, it'll make more sense...), Under the Pink by Tori Amos, Baker Baker off the same CD.

what could you never tell your parents? I'm pretty sure my parents know everything. They just don't ask because they don't want to KNOW that they know. But they have a pretty good idea :)

are you in a romantic relationship right now? I don't think I've ever been in a romantic relationship :)

paper or plastic? paper

favorite song lyric? You called me beautiful when you saw my shame and you placed me on the wall anyway. -Nichole Nordeman

tell me a secret: Yeah right. You have to work for my secrets.

are you a good liar? Depends on the situation. I can cover for other people without blinking an eye, but when it comes to someone questioning me... I tend to get caught :)

opinion on gay marriage? Just one thought: Ummm yeah, marriage has worked grrrreat for this country so far. So let's keep pretending like it's this fabulous, sacred thing that we uphold to be pure above all else. F off and leave the gay people alone.

if you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? I would be back to my high school weight... I'm working on it.

what's your favorite accent? British. Wow.

are you on antidepressants? Don't get me started. And no, I prefer to deal with my crap.

tell me a joke: look at my paycheck. I laugh for hours.

everyone knows most people are... good at heart.

vous-parlez francais? Hablo Espanol. Spreken se Deutch?

is there a song or a CD or something that you strongly associate with a certain event in your life? Metallica, the Black Album, AC/DC, White Zombie, Tupac, Me Against the World, that stupid Puff Daddy remake of ...nobody gonna hold me down, oh no, I got to keep on mooovin..., ooooold George Strait, Diamond Rio, and about a zillion others.

how have you changed in the past year? went from crazy party girl who doesn't care, to crazy party girl who cares quite a bit :)

what is one thing you want to do before you die? Go to Italy.

do you like to travel? love it. Just need a valium before I get on the plane.

states you've been to: Most of them except New England. And that's on the list.

what countries have you been to? Mexico, England, Scotland, France

where do/did you go to school?: Westridge Christian, Temple Christian, Christian Heritage, Community Christian, Oklahoma Baptist, (are you starting to see a trend... no wonder I drink...), OU, OCCC, OCU.

cigarettes? hahhahaa. Not so much. But I'm trying.

lucky number: 9

favorite super hero: She-Ra princess of power

favorite sport: Basketball

worst mistake you ever made: not sure. lots of mistakes but learning from them has made me who I am.

if you were an animal, what would you be? A Kitty Cat, and I dance dance dance!

last cd you bought: People still buy CD's??

last movie you saw: Seabiscuit on cable. Good flick.

favorite tv channel: HBO

ever been arrested? We've been over this, yes.

ever had to have surgery? Nope.

kind of bike you had as a kid? Pink and purple Huffy.

lefty or righty: Righty

what would you want to do if you got drunk? ...IF? hahahhaa. Probably the same thing I always do, giggle alot and tell everybody around me that I think I'm getting drunk.

do you like your name? Love it. My mom rocks.

what do you want to be when you grow up? In love and making a difference in the world.

favorite concert you have been to? Well, just depends. The Jack Ingram show w/ Todd Snider is one of my favorite memories.

favorite board game: Crack the Case, yeeeah Jackie, you know you like it :)

favorite drink: crown and coke

favorite sound: Tucker's sleepy meow-- it's more of a squeak and sooo cute.

favorite smell: a boy

drinks with or without ice cubes? with with with

favorite thing to do on the weekends: Sleep, watch movies, go out.

favorite soundtrack: Rules of Attraction

what was the first thing you thought to yourself when you woke up this morning: Thank God I'm only working half a day. Then I said a little prayer for God to help me find a place to live.

what are you doing after you finish this? Looking at houses.

who did you get this from: The one and only Notorius S.T.E.P.H.

texan

she's from texas and weighs
103 pounds
and stands before the
mirror combing oceans
of reddish hair
which falls all the way down
her back to her ass.
the hair is magic and shoots
sparks as I lay on the bed
and watch her combing her
hair. she's like something
out of the movies but she's
actually here. we make love
at least once a day and
she can make me laugh
any time she cares
to. Texas women are always
healthy, and besides that she's
cleaned my refigerator, my sink,
the bathrrom, and she cooks and
feeds me healthy foods
and washes the dishes
too.

"Hank," she told me,
holding up a can of grapefruit
juice, "this is the best of them
all."
it says: Texas unsweetened
PINK grapfruit juice.

she looks like Katherine Hepburn
looked when she was
in high school, and I watch those
103 pounds
combing a yard and some change
of reddish hair
before the mirror
and I feel her inside of my
wrists and at the backs of my eyes,
and the toes and legs and belly
of me feel her and
the other part too,
and all of Los Angeles falls down
and weeps for joy,
the walls of the love parlors shake--
the ocean rushes in and she turns
to me and says, "damn this hair!"
and I say,
"yes."

Charles Bukowski, Love is a Dog from Hell