i got real sad just now thinking about how i miss the south and once when you showed me those old photos of you and your mom i smiled and covered your faces with my thumbs. i think i wanted them on my thumbprints, embedded in my skin.
sometimes i see a snake and i think, "that's me" i'm a venomous snake, i don't like to be touched.
when you see a person begin to cry and the first tear falls from their right eye that means they are crying tears of happiness but if the first tear falls from the left eye they are crying because of pain
not too long ago i saw you covering your face with your hands, and i couldn't see your eyes but your lips looked like crying and i hope you're okay.
i've seen you since then but i haven't had the chance to touch your face or read your mind. in fact i have never been brave enough to touch your face, or anyone else's but i would like to make amends.
if i had my way i could ride my bicycle to your house and maybe you'd be there and maybe you'd show me some more photographs and maybe i'd tell you all the things you want to know the most and maybe that would be enough because i don't know him, and i'm just a snake that doesn't like to be touched but i am always, always lookin' for you, even when you're not around.
quick! someone tell me that it's not what i think!
i am an only child, you might be able to tell, some people can, some people ask. i don't remember the words for "only child" in french. i realized some time ago that in my very first memories i had a bunkbed. it is illogical for me to have had a bunkbed. how much can i trust my childhood memories? do i have a sibling? god, i hope not, not with a life like this, i couldn't stand to meet someone with shared genes that was living a happy life with only the most fun childhood memories. bunkbeds come in sets, most sets of bunkbeds contain two beds. two beds in a room implies two bodies, what are you getting at? i don't want to say. it disgusts me to imagine my parents ever being in love. it disgusts me that sometimes i lead people on to believe i had a normal childhood. it baffles me that most of the time people i am not lying to, don't believe me when i say my parents are monsters.
torment this, how much of what i remember really happened?
i remember writing my dad a note that said, " i heat you" because i couldn't spell hate, but i meant it then and i mean it still because not taking the blame for some emotional mess you've created is not cool.
i might be in a rage but i don't scream for five or six days straight, even though that is really a way i imagine could get this out. don't expect me to come to your funeral, don't let me finish my sentences, don't tell me the general public thinks i'm going to hell, don't tell me that i'm not good enough, don't tell me to choose to be happy, i'm choosing to be real
by bankrupting drudgery certainly a tarot lady can tell me my name, or teach me to swim. if this is not the case, i can't help that when i smile too much my face hurts, or that there's only a few people that do thees, and I AM ON VACATION, i just declared it, i'm going to sleep for fifty seven days and 24 seconds maybe i can get back. or maybe i can get front. i am not responsible for loss of heart transplant memories. if you dream, who do you see most often?
i was walking and my shoes started to burn my feet, my feet were on fire. i ran in an attempt to lessen the burn. kicked off my shoes i saw smoke, i swear. my socks have black holes in them, i walked back limping on both sides. is this easy?
tell me again how this is easy or not for i desire to recall what exactly your thoughts on the matter were and whether or not i'll be allowed to go home one day.
i can't tell, i mean, i can't tell you. you can say "i'm on vacation" all you want but i'm still not going to pick up the dog shit anymore. we can't talk about loans or my future without you screaming at me, we can't talk without you screaming at me, is what i am saying here.
i was walking, and my shoes did burn my feet. tell me how that happened? where were you exactly, ma'am? i was on 11 mile road waltzing with the dog, but it hurt so bad. do you know how many nerve endings the bottom of the feet have? that's how they torture people in the middle east, they do terrible things to the bottoms of the feet. don't put it past americans to bash someones feet, we don't just waterboard, we don't just spill all the fucking oil in the universe into the gulf of mexico and not give a shit. ma'am given your explanation i cannot possibly deduce how your shoes caught on fire... did someone throw some sort of flammable agent at you?
a firecracker, they threw firecrackers at my feet.
no they didn't... i was there, i saw what happened. why are you lying?
i guess i just wanted you to think straits were dire, they are, i wanted you to see, see how dire, see how strait?
let me go home! i don't want to be here!
i'm sure you understand, we all understand that your feet hurt and you are frustrated but we don't know where home is either. after all, it could just be blood.
some of the people passed out in the alleyways did, become vampire food. and to be quite honest those are probably the worst people to become vampire food. did you ever think about what happens because vampires don't go poop either. rather, to save princess anastasia would be like, the worst thing a vampire could do, i heard the whole family was hemophiliacs and thats why her little brother died so quick when he skinned his knee in the kidnapping and that's why when we skin our knees we can never find the skin. where do they go?
capture the first. initial push, the motion of and pretend we're the first one's to walk down glory road (and they mean it, sweet tea) pretend there's babies in the sink and mom's who are so beautiful and kind and loving and they have three sons, you know? three! and i don't play sports and i don't skulk around outside my house but i do declare i do declare the inevitable truths of blinking and breathing along side texas sunshine. an old lady sat next to me on the bus she sort of reminded me of memaw and memaw is left handed and she says proudly "thay met on the innernet!" all i want for christmas is a pelvis and the south. the whole south and nothing but the south so help me pacific ocean. ( i swear!)
and this is who you go home to! they're beautiful not because anyone else says so, just because you love them! and you do truly love them ! and i'll telll yeww what i ain' nevah seen no body so in love as y'all and i've seen you argue and i've seen you smilin' and i've see you out there and i know you know it! i cain't even describe to you the tenderness that exists there, good thing i don't have to, sir!
i wanna keep it forever cos nothin does anything justice like texas (maybe i'm southern today) (what's the criteria?)