Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Saturday

You explore a land of anxious ice.

I want to love you,

with my whole soul,

the way my heart does.

Yes,

she loves you,

with everything she has,

but all her friends are too afraid,

enclosed,

hard to reach,

showered in stars,

that shine seductively,

but run when you appear.

My music plays loud,

as I hang my heart out the window,

waving at you,

whispering,

“I want to love you.”

“I know I love you.”

Nine hours melts to seconds,

like candy floss,

when it meets the spray of the sea,

and I melt too,

sleeping under an illumination,

night lights,

there is a dream,

far above my head,

where I sleep beside you,

and I love you,

with my whole soul,

my whole heart,

and all that I am.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

Inevitably

The way that I am,

in this world,

is the only way I could have ever been.

I could have never outrun,

the first steps that lead me here,

the times that built me,

the way I was always supposed to go,

the adventure I was always supposed to be,

for whoever had the misfortune to find me.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

Don’t Remember Me

Love you,

I do,

in an endless,

aching way,

sometimes,

the way it flows through my soul,

feels familiar,

and I am found off balance,

by the words I feel I’ve said before.

img_5232

I have been a mystery,

a far off aspiration,

a headache,

a heartache.

His doll,

his toy,

your hunnybee,

her darling dearest,

his sordid secret,

the slightest bit neurotic,

full of nonsense,

cherie,

cherie,

cherie.

Romantica is everyone’s baby,

for a time,

a girl built from stars,

and sonnets,

and scars.

img_5229

I want to be more,

for you.

I want to be what you see in your dreams,

I want to be the heavenly fantasy that haunts you,

stuck in your throat,

because you’re not quite ready to tell me,

honestly,

I am only complete,

when I am built in an image,

that someone completely adores.

I am my own.

I am fiercely individual.

I am an Aquarius,

after all,

but none of that is true,

when I belong to you,

and every you that came before,

is a temporary tattoo,

that I have scraped away,

until I shove their words back in my mouth,

smiling and wiling away the hours,

repeating myself,

and all my greatest clip show episodes,

because I need to fulfil you,

but I don’t know how.

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I am fulfilled,

and this time,

it hits differently,

your name sits differently on my lips,

every second,

of my night terrors,

waking me,

saving me,

like a spell,

like a kiss,

I call out your name,

and I am transformed,

transferred to blissful safety.

img_5228

Love you,

I do,

and I think you love me too.

I think that I fulfil you,

by the way I think of you,

night and day,

and I think,

you’d kill for me,

in my dreams,

if I asked you nicely,

if I said it soothes me,

to see rivers of blood,

oceans of rage,

your white shirt,

soft neck,

a gallery,

for finality.

I don’t know,

who I want dead next,

I think,

maybe it would be sweet,

if you killed the bad dreams,

and bad habits,

I carried with me.

img_5227

What if one day,

I’m just somebody you remember,

when you see your horoscope,

as you scan the morning paper?

What if one day,

I’m just an uncomfortable,

awkward sex dream,

that makes you confused,

and upset,

causing tension with your wife,

that you can’t explain,

because then you’d have to think of me,

again,

but I am gone,

you haven’t seen me for years,

and it hurts to say my name,

because I did what I always do,

and…

I don’t want to be gone,

this time.

I don’t want you to remember,

because I don’t want you to forget.


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Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

Fire Of My Loins

I am sitting in a whirlwind,

of woeful, wistful voices,

veering closer,

as I sit with my smug smile,

and my cheap notebooks,

full of cheap cracks,

about everyone I perceive to have punished me.

img_5215

I close my windows,

just to make sure I’m alone,

waking up when both the sun and moon are sleeping,

so the city is my own,

and I do not have to share.

img_5217

Line to line,

I get by fine,

prosey,

pretentious Princess,

fucking my feelings,

and my finest work,

every night,

because they satisfy me,

in a way no man or woman ever could.

Screaming silently,

drowning in my own divine decadence,

dreaming in Spanglish,

slow motion declarations of devotion,

from a carousel of cancelled affections.


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Hear My Music

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RECENT FREE CREATIVE WRITING COLLECTIONS
In The Garden Of The Free Children
Virgin Vogue
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Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Gemini

You went mad,

because you thought I didn’t find you funny,

and you had spent every day,

before you found me,

thinking that was all you were.

It’s not that I am resigned to remaining miserable,

no,

that’s not it at all,

and I do,

on occasion,

find you amazing,

amusing,

downright confusing,

delightful,

insightful,

interesting,

and bemusing.

You are a snowstorm of sentimentality,

that swirls all around me.

I reach up,

gripping on to each new aspect of you,

that I discover,

until I am snowed under,

melting and freezing all together,

a sun tanned slushy,

trying to sum up,

all the ways I want you.

So,

don’t think,

that I don’t laugh,

sometimes,

it just has to be internal,

because I am just overwhelmed,

by the eternal ways,

you find to surprise me,

by bringing a new kind of joy to my day,

every time I see you.


Read My Books

Hear My Music

Hear My Podcast

RECENT FREE CREATIVE WRITING COLLECTIONS
In The Garden Of The Free Children
Virgin Vogue
Sad Girl’s Love Song

COME FIND ME
Twitter
Soundcloud
Instagram
Ask Jen

Facebook
Patreon

Tumblr
Amazon

Podcast
Spotify

YouTube
Rumbl
Email Me