hermyriadofthoughts

[hermyriadofthoughts]

why do parents get mad when you sleep all day like i’m staying out of trouble and i’m not spending your money like what is the issue here

[hermyriadofthoughts]

I need a break from you. I've decided. I'm making myself sick. 

[hermyriadofthoughts]

I get angriest at the people I care most about. You. You are miles away. You make me mad for alliteration's sake. It's not even real anger. I guess I would, more so, call it fined tuned frustration. I feel too much. Sometimes I wonder if it would be better if I was void of emotion. I'm just angry in general. I don't even know where its coming from. It's apathy and sadness. It's anger. It's I don't even know.

[hermyriadofthoughts]

I am drunken with sleepiness. On the bright side, I just found a new poem promt/ idea/ what have you, to write on

[hermyriadofthoughts]

Notes for Her 1

Dear Child,

That love –

Meekness of spirit

Wonton crippled quiet lines

The inner sector of your soul, which will line

With my soul – it has been from the beginning 

Petite wonders and first cries and smiles

I want you to be strong

Just as my mother taught me to be

-Elipses

[hermyriadofthoughts]

Just because

This poem is like an open-faced sandwich

One piece of bread for base

And everything else piled on top for decoration

Or

You as foundation

And all the decoration just so happens to be my every day word vomit

Paired with pretty words

I’m not sure really where to begin

Which is stupid because

I don’t plan on reading this to you

But I think it’ll probably happen

And I’ll be blushing redder than the tomatoes

Turning from green in my grandfathers backyard garden

You are more than special

You see I went to the dictionary and tried to find a word that would make you seem

Like you were incandescent in nature and spirit, but I couldn’t find one

Cliché in all its respect

But I settled on the word special because

It is simple

And it gets my point across

I didn’t want to seem like the girl who found fools gold in the spirit of another man

Fools gold being infatuation

I never wanted to believe in love stories I watch

The ones I watch over and over again

The ones I watch and think about you

For some strange reason

Even after I told myself to stop

Even after I told myself that I didn’t have time for you

But I started to make time

Carving a hole out of the honesty

I would fill you with every time I spoke to you

A whole work of art wholly holy our conversations became a museum

Sentence fragments and secret telling

Filled with periods and exclamation marks

And pure happiness

Because my joy was never rooted in any one but

I could feel good with you

Insecurity no longer tormented me at night

And I know this is a big thing

And I’m not saying I rely on you for happiness because I don’t

You just allowed me to experience it in a new light

And to that I say thank you

However that is not the only reason why you are special to me

The fool’s gold I found between your lips was actual gold

Not some brassy yellowish mineral

Often found in Virginia Mountains

The same lips that smile with northern charm

And open to dress anybody with compliment

You are agave nectar

I want to put you in my tea

And taste your irresponsibility

Because I know you have a little

Or make cherry Jam out of you

And spread you on toasted Ezekiel bread  

Just because I can

Now, your hands

Hands I know that were carved with God’s grace

Soft as they are

Welcoming as they are

I wanted to hold your hand every time I was near you

I felt as if our fingers were two old friends

Tip to tip

Touching as if greeting each other for the first time in years

Even if it had only been a few hours since I last touched you

I’ve felt honey in your arms

And heard music in the sound of your voice

I say all these things because

I want to make love to you

Not yet physically but to your quintessence

A fifth fundamental force…dark energy filled

With soul and passion

I don’t know if I’ve said too much

But like I said earlier this is all word vomit fit into metaphor

Placed next to fools gold

Sat on a kitchen table next to this

Open-faced sandwich

Called my heart

Now vulnerable and exposed

 No decoration, no excess

Just the truth and you as foundation

-Elipses

[hermyriadofthoughts]

Food and Men (rambles 2)

She tends to have these love affairs with food.

She sees another failed relationship and she copes by stuffing her face with potato chips and ice cream and a whole packet full of regret.

Love does not runaway when it is eaten.

Well it may. I guess, does running through a stomach count?

She eats so much she makes herself sick.

Love sick.

I say love and sick because she loves food and not men.

Well, she loves men - she wants one, but she can't obtain one.

Men aren't like a grocery store.

Everything is so simple in there.

Carefully labeled aisles of pure beauty.

Frozen foods on aisle 10.

Canned goods on aisle 2.

There is simplicity in food - none in men.

-Elipses

[hermyriadofthoughts]

Ignorance has the ability to foster fear and prejudice is the ignorance of an unknown that people are too afraid to find out.

-Elipses

[hermyriadofthoughts]

Rambles (1)

Innocence thought upon another level-- my face every time i feel your kindness in my heart. You make me want to burst. Look past this and see what's behind me please. My insecurities still override sometimes. That is my true story, this face is the cover. Don't judge the cover, the soul is much better. The soul that tries to give virtue and shine light that tries to be a vessel for God....

-Elipses

[hermyriadofthoughts]

Free Fruit (not finished)

I know a woman who lives on the produce aisle in the grocery store. She adores free fruit. She flirts up and down the aisle until she finds a fruit so forbidden it stings. Like pure ambrosia for the gods, she feasts on morsels upon her mount Olympus until it hurts. 

Elipses

[hermyriadofthoughts]

writing writing writing

I often dream about falling

Slipping into slip-knots

Tangling myself up into my own nightmare of soot

An event I regretfully prepare myself for on a daily basis

I’m too afraid to fall on my own

So I tie notes on the end of my shoe laces

Like children stuck to mother legs

Because they find comfort in locomotive limbs

Unlike them I use my notes to hold on

I write the names of the ones that change me

As a hoarder hoards I keep names

Like leftovers from two Sundays ago

-Elipses

[hermyriadofthoughts]

School Lunch

Lunch in my school is a caste system of the haves and have nots. It is also, a game played between students every day during the time of 12:25 and 2 pm. The free lunch, reduced lunch, home lunch, no lunch because you're stressed lunch, no lunch because you're in the library writing a paper do next block lunch, eat lunch then throw up lunch because you think you're too fat lunch. Lunch detention - no pork dippers for me those things look disgusting, nowhere to sit lunch. School lunch look nasty. School lunch look nasty, but some people don't get lunch to eat. High priced school lunch. Prices up ten more cents this year school lunch. I'm paying two twenty for a slice of fifty cent pizza and some apples school lunch. Paying two dollars for a bottle of juice school lunch. Paying nothing for the dignity of school kids who sit alone during school lunch. Paying nothing for kids who don't qualify for free/reduced lunch but still ain't got no money for school lunch. State say make school lunch healthy - school lunch barely look like pet food sometimes school lunch. Oh, there's the bell. Its time for lunch.

Elipses

[hermyriadofthoughts]

Boys who make you hot like broth boiling will cool down eventually. Then they will become lukewarm.

[hermyriadofthoughts]

To All The Boys I Have Loved Since First Grade

There are five of you. 

Each one of you different in your own respect.

I can't say I was never infatuated with all of you because that would be a lie.

Neither can I tell any you why i remember each one of your names so clearly.

Or why, if someone asked, I could pick out about what I admired most about you.

I don't regret not dating any of you.

I've only told one of you that I loved you.

(It seemed fair and you told me you loved me back)

I will not speak of your names in the prose I write...

However:

I will speak of John and Patrick

that is all for Patrick I loved in the first grade

and his pasty skin and orange hair enamored me

and John I loved over a span of second and third grade

Your mother named you after John F. Kennedy

and your blonde-white hair reminded me of 

that big snow we had when I was 7

and i thought that was pretty neat.

The last three, dare I speak or utter your names

I'm not that bold yet.

I will love you in silent

That is until I turn fifty. 

I will just say that you were all men (of age not necessarily maturity)

when I found each one of you.

Two of you are still present to this day

Still fresh

because both of you have made me bleed

But i'm okay with that.

What's true love without bloodshed? 

-Elipses

[hermyriadofthoughts]

Elipses

[hermyriadofthoughts]

[hermyriadofthoughts]

I'd like to tell you...

I'd like to tell you how innocent you make my heart feel. These past few months have been nothing short of a sinner who sins but still feels the need to pray after every dirty deed, because she is trying to make everyone happy. I have a secret. I don't want to tell you though. Also, it is raining outside. You see, the rain makes me feel especially giving and truthful, but i want to keep this secret where it belongs, between two of my molars on the right side of my mouth. I'd like to tell you how innocent you make my heart feel. 

-Elipses