Below are a few things I’ve written lately, as well as some old stuff I updated and adapted so that it may see the light of day.
It was really interesting to look through some older stuff, and see what kind of things I was writing, and to remember all the over dramatic thoughts and feelings that often accompanied my writing process back then. Things are a lot more relaxed now. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m more mature in how I handle emotions, or if it’s because I’ve become apathetic and numb with old age, but either way, it’s a lot less of an editing headache. Angsty teen Jen was a pain in the ass.
I really hope you like them!
Never needed nothing,
On one objective,
burned by buying basic boys.
shallow senses, shadowed sensuality.
I invest in intermittent intimidation,
here hides heaven,
Dreaming In Diamonds
Baby, I won’t tire of your tired face.
dreaming in diamonds,
for the eventual “I suppose, I do.”
I play you my K Pop playlist,
because I know it makes no sense to you,
just like this love makes no sense to you,
but that face does more than jewels can do.
Won’t you wait?
Dreaming in desperation,
for the eventual “Of course, I do.”
Insatiable, Incurable, Inescapable
I picked my poison,
higher than my heels,
drank you down.
So nice, no spice.
Oh darling, you swam to my veins.
Insatiable, insatiable you.
I surrendered to your seductive swarm,
and a label, pastel pink,
drag me down.
Sin ti, who me?
Oh darling, where’s your antidote?
Incurable, Incurable you.
I live for every lasting look,
just as I’m sure you intended,
hunt me down.
Will you? Won’t you?
Oh darling, there’s no need to run, now.
Inescapable, inescapable you.
Tears On My Pillow
There were no tears on my pillow,
for all you left were purple paintings,
tinged with the darkest sky,
on the legs you said you loved,
that stayed covered all summer long,
housing your latest exhibit.
My heart was the least of my worries,
but, oh, how she worried,
that the rest of me wouldn’t survive.
You’re not my past,
or so I pretend,
I wallpaper my woes,
now I’ve escaped being your canvas.
What I Did For Hate
I can regret what I did for hate,
but it’s not my style,
and that’s all I have left.
a dead dame’s rep in your wake.
This is some so legit shit,
except I’ve already gone Gaga,
and there is nothing in your lips,
but the sob story you stand on.
I do business like a man,
and you’re still bawling like a baby.
You whine, and dine,
on the same narcissistic narrative,
drown yourself at the river you wrote,
waiting on the ocean floor,
for the applause you said you didn’t need.
If you have to be gone,
then keep warm,
because I’m tortured by your sickness.
If I can’t have one last kiss,
then guard the ones you give,
and keep them from the likes of me.
you have to roam the world,
because like me, it will always miss you.
Paint the town red,
just like your lips were,
when I’d kiss you.
God, I miss you.
Shop when you’re hungry,
dance when you’re happy,
and live like I never broke your heart.
Betsy Brye’s on the radio,
and you’re on my mind,
When she gets through this number,
you’ll still be through with me,
I want you so.
Dying And Destroying
I kiss your rosy wrists,
their icy touch burns and blisters.
Your lungs lie still,
quite content with silence,
so stuck on stillness.
Open eyes, look past me,
the whole world,
lost in your lens,
the whole world,
draining as the blood drains from your face,
and I start to forget the world.
There is no world,
it is slipping,
with no “wet floor” sign.
Each breath without you,
sends another piece of planet stumbling.
so I can breathe without dying and destroying.
He told me,
he didn’t like me,
but he thought he’d try,
and see if he could stand me.
He insisted on us kissing,
despite his demands that I not read into it,
it was hard to do anything but.
Kissing is a complicated language,
only for the lips of lovers,
different dialects for different couples,
so we didn’t understand each other a bit.
As darling Dawn is dragged,
back to the foot of the sky,
life breaks in,
strips the playful from my planet,
until I crash land into a rigid reality.
I’m not playing astronauts anymore.
The shadows of solitude,
stalk from their hiding spots,
singing of my surrender,
before I have even been brave enough to speak.
I will be brave.
A deep, dangerous breath,
I have inhaled intuition,
I’m built stronger than my enemies.
Under the moonlight,
I will duel with the darkness of doubt,
until Darling Dawn arrives once more,
his arms around my waist, and a kiss upon my cheek.
His honey hello in my ear, and the words I longed for.
When we fight,
my old face washes off in the storm,
leaving a panda princess.
When silent, you make sense,
I don’t understand your spoken nonsense.
In the dark of early morning,
when shadows play,
let me play on your mind.
I’ll lay kisses on your vocabulary,
and force you to be sweeter in the morning.
Anything But This
The trigger’s in your complex cortex,
and you’ve never won a game of roulette.
Callous chemistry, the house always wins.
Don’t play this round.
I know a good ice cream place,
the casino never was your scene.
Movies, drag shows, home, the beach.
Just anywhere but here, and now, and this.
Anything but this.
Let’s go see the Golden Gate,
but let us stay in the middle.
We can walk down any road,
we can soar like seagulls,
while we’re still grounded.
We never went to see some art together.
You know I won’t care,
but why not try?
There’s so much left to see,
even though your eyes say “No” today.
I’ll plead with them,
as I plead with you,
to give yourself another chance.
Just anything but this.
You know you’ll miss this town,
and you’ll miss the way that I miss you.
Can’t we get another round,
I promise I won’t touch a drop.
I promise whatever it takes.
Just anything but this.
I know we’ve seen a million days,
but let’s see one more together,
and then another.
I know I’m selfish,
but, whatever you want.
Just anything, but this.
On the town
Everybody’s shaking hands,
blinded by glare of their finger flare.
A thousand angels,
in outfits I’ll never understand.
it’s so high.
There’s a man on the ivory,
oh that boy thinks he’s Mr Joel.
Nobody watches, so nobody would know,
but I’ve got on eye on the instrument,
and one on a drink I can’t afford,
and I can see he’s almost there.
Discovered Among The Weeds
I have been the roses you presented her with,
her birthday lay at the back of your one track mind.
My eyes made friends with the invaded floor,
as you moved me in,
and threw her out.
Smoke was her perfume,
her eyes unlike mine,
sat atop the feet of crows,
and the lines you’d crossed.
She went mad,
made of clear ink adorned her face,
as I was put in a vase of icy water.
Maybe, you were born on a stormy day, to be my umbrella.
Maybe, you learnt to walk in my direction, to be my map.
Maybe you awoke this morning to awaken me, to be my alarm.
Maybe you drowned your old life, to be my watering can.
Maybe you will drown me one day, to sprinkle yourself over somebody else.
Someday, she’ll speak.
Slow, slinking speech.
She sips something,
soft souls sit,
salivating so she knows,
she seduced someone.
so suited to “S”.
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