Sunday, March 25, 2012

97: Read the books

My room is a jungle, of unread books.
unfinished sketches, and photos of your smiles.
In the corner there is a fountain, where, instead of pristine water,
wild flowers still sky rocket.
There is a fantasy playground, where dreamers play
with flying horses, and create faux memories
of holding hands and subtle pecks at the cheeks.

In my room Tori Amos is singing violently, whimsically.
She shows me white horses and how to ride those
in the beach instead.

Clean up your room she said. Read the books.

Thanks Patty for the words: Jungle, Playground, Flowers, Whimsical, and Skyrocket

96: I don't tell


Broken hearts and night lights don't mix well.

Validation and control are absurd concepts.

Expectations of other people are poisonous.

Unsolicited advice is disgusting.

Only fools think they can live other peoples lives better,

Because I hate it when people tell me how to live my life,

Because I don't tell them how to live theirs.

This week the golden rule is broken. I hate you for it.