i don't know if it's funny or heartily depressing
how quickly things change.
or, rather how slowly everything seems to move
but all of a sudden, you feel everything is completely different.
so, it's not fast at all. just a slow moving picture with a
flash flash stop in the middle of things. and an oh.
a breathing period.

I'm not sure if it's a choice i'm making, or if it's everything
else that seems to make it's mind up for me.

i wish i was stronger than i was.
but these emotions have their way.
a rocking jagged way of screwing me over.

i always have the back and forth
of thinking i'm in control of things.
as if, as IF i made a kind of move,
then things, THINGS would be OK.
but i would never make a move,
because that's not how i am.

i'm shaking, it's so cold.




the love has been lost.
and we mourn.

i'm leavin' the pink.
it makes even more sense
that the photograph is no longer
in existence.

it's cold in the bedroom.
the deep breath
before



or



which is next?

feeling skinless today

a pile of rotten oranges
flocked with flies

my swings are not mild
never wrapped in small childish bows
but are a glass in the process of shattering
a balloon bent on suicide

not one of you can move me

all chatter anchors the body deep down
too low
to choke anything up but tiny gasps of air

oh wait.
i'm better than 8.15.
thank you s.b.

a shower so i don't scream.

i fell off my bike yesterday.
it hurts this morning.
but it was my own fault.


last night could have gone a lot better.

I woke up
hanged and dry
cracked as a silver bone
shivering in early spring

If I could stretch out to you
I would throw my muscles into awkward angles,
my orange knees in a moonshine embrace

the soft finger is what we want.
a constant hum of daffodils.
a smart point to zero upon.

or a reddish blue,
a white hole to pull us beyond an opening of skin and bones
to the heart that doesn’t exist in the sense we want it to

I would walk.
I could sing in square notes to
proclaim my arms belong around your ribcage

Why do I want you ?

It’s the area we leave behind,
the trace of little footsteps.
a push against the wall,
a slight movement of the hips

I’m all yours
again
and again
Until you say
no.
no!
no.

dasha

and so it begins...
(back in one week.

it's almost the end of july.
short (mais long as it could be).
stop!
the same.

sitting needles.
You know, the ones that prick your thighs
and whisper "do something"
And you sit and wonder.
what exactly am i supposed to do?


porch nights.
bed nights.
alone nights.
fight nights.
sit & cry nights.
also. another person nights.
down & together.
touch them,
file them away,
for later use (remembrance).


"Cut out all these exclamation points. An exclamation point is like laughing at your own joke. "
f.s. fitzgerald

share your bod.
live some life.
yeah yeah yeah.

a small frog lodges itself in my throat. a dry scream. a call for help.
wide-eyed and worthless, what will you do?
sleep now. close your eyes and then puff your way into my lungs.
lay there. lie and lie. do not open your mouth.
I die. You know I could. And you would die too, grafted into my skin,
my cells, my awkward limbs, the unfortunate body which
has to move and convince a stranger I am worthy of love.

little green monster, tiny hidden peek of rumbles and soft skin
I repent, I take it back, open your lips and tell me
I am a bright piece in this awful wreckage.
and tell those others, please tell them,
they have no business here.
I do not want them anymore,
or ever again.

----------
written sunday night.
today is tewzday (it's really not monday)
tomorrow will be windzday.
& on & on & on.


-----------------------------------
(buzz for a cliche)
-coll, this is a reminder that something was
here, that you need to remember, but don't
need to type out in full-

odd or even.

if we subtract you,
it's a clean 100th victory.
it's hard to say whether
or not i've always admired
multiples of ten
or if i do now,
because it doesn't include
a plus 1.

-----
coffee grounds. stomach pain.
5-6 moths saved.
where the hell is leo?
or megatron for that matter.

here.

it's raining.
always.

i had an intense night. thank god for Danielle, wonder woman
for talking to me and letting me talk.
crash & burn baby.
drank nearly a whole bottle of wine.

when i lived alone,
i would have these nights,
sit in the cave
and not call anyone.
it's just odd f or me to consistently think
that strength lies in utter silence.

purge. purge. purge.
think about new things.

I'm not feeling so good about certain things.
but sharing a room with nick isn't so bad,
and having roommates for the first time in
two years is a little ridiculous but really fun.

i laugh a lot more when i'm around nick,
which is probably healthy for the ice queen.

i had a dream about King Daradas.
i woke up, typed it in (I somehow knew how to spell it), because i wondered. I've never heard of it before.
and:

the Daradas were a people who lived north and north-east to the Kashmir valley. This kingdom is identified to be the Gilgit region in Kashmir along the river Sindhu or Indus.

and "daradaraya" means "King of the Daradas."

interesting.

i like to consider these my audition photos for a B-movie about
a cocaine-addicted ex-child star who grows up and must live
on the streets. the ending of course will be uplifting and heartwarming as i overcome
obstacles no one thought i could . i will show THEM, i say. because as we all know,
ITS THAT EASY! all i have to do is decide to change and it happens, as i chase the American Dream
through the gutters of new york city.


a few scenes will pay homage to Whatever Happened to Baby Jane.



and i will also fall in love of course;
i will push my partner away multiple times,
but then come to realize that everybody needs somebody
and no one wants to die alone.

voice message i left myself (through nick's phone i imagine):
"colleen, hello, hello colleen, what are you doing? you have no life. and
everything sucks about your life. done. done."

I'm feeling last night, this morning.

jumpin' on the cheryl-(haiku) train

(1)

lazy tangerines
and mustard cream romances
sunbathe in july

(2)
kiss me on the neck
slick, hot, and hungry peach lips
pocket them and go

He said
Done.