sin spaces

howlongmustiwait? iknowi'mbeinggreedy,butican'thelpit... iguessyoucouldsayiwanttobewithyou,buti'mnotquitesure. whatareyouwaitingfor? well,ishouldwaittoo... iwishicouldaskyou,butyouwouldn'tanswer... maybeit'slust. maybeijustwanttoshowyouoff,orsomecraplikethat. howhorriblecanibe. canyoueverlovethissideofme? canyoueverforgivemydarksideofthemoon? idon'tknowwhati'mdoinganymore...


In this piece, I'm basically impatient and am waiting to enter an official relationship with my boyfriend-to-be. I confessed my feelings for him about three weeks before we entered a true relationship. My impatience probably relates to my confusion since I didn't know what would happen ever since the confession.

love stole my title

I don't mean to be a selfish prude
but it's all about you, isn't it?
well, love is selfish, anyway.

yeah.
yeah.
yeah.

I just want to talk to you,
I just want to be with you,
I just want to hold you

(so badly).

But greedy
as The World will always be
and Greedy as I may always be

I don't realize how much you care
when you stare at your cars
and ignore my vacant conversation

yeah.
yeah.
yeah.

I love you, of course.
LoveisSelfish,Isaid.

guess i'll have to wait.


Maybe I was angry since he kept talking about his interests, or what he did for the day without asking me anything in return...which would explain why I'd call myself a "selfish prude" (I use that word a lot when I'm angry--prude). We all have social disorders, though. My poem blatantly expresses my OWN social disorders, apparently.

June 15, 2007. I think I'm in love.

It happened so fast,
But I'm glad it did.
Now bless me with corn sauce
and cheese for my bread,
because I'm now a bad poet,
Cursed at the hand
by that of my Creator --

Love.

I'm now a fool,
Love-struck,
Devoid of all writing talent,
soon to be thrown to the lions
and mauled by the dogs.

But little does it matter
For I no longer care.

I'm in Love,

and I'll write whatever
my little heart desires.

June 10, 2007

Mesmerized by your smile,
Ensnared by the innocent contracts of love,
my mind cannot speak English
and I quiver in the corner of my shallow heart,
where shadows are my solace;
away from Lust of you.--

I walk on a tight rope,
between love and practicality,
as my feelings are lost in the balance;
as my life is on the line.

I wait.

Steady defiance?
Heart-shaped melodies?

My heart is at a standstill--
a duel between The Masters:
Bold Billy and Taciturn Man.

They draw their guns:
Bang!, Bang!, Bang!
goes my Horseshoe heart.

And then my feet give from the recoil.

and then I float,
and drift away from balance;
and drift away from control;
and drift away from utter and complete sanity...

...Back into the confines of my bed;
safe in the stillness of the evening.


I'm torn between like and dislike; love and hate. A boy confessed his feelings for me through a love letter, and I'm pretty much speechless, dumbfounded, and confused. Oh, boy.

circus hands

what can i do
to make you look at me
behind the cymbals?

take off my monkey clothes and see me for who i really am
for who i really am

what can i do
to make you look at me
behind the cymbals?

don't you see me staring blankly in your eyes expecting orders all the time
all the time

what can i do
to make you look at me
behind the cymbals?

you use me for change and laughs and giggles i don't see your smile anymore but your greed
who are you now
why is it only now that i know this

what can i do
to make you look at me
behind the cymbals?

my red outfit and my monkey hat can't impress you yet
you still askin' and askin' for change and compliments
compliments for you, not me
not me
not me

what can i do
to make you look at me
behind the cymbals?

give me a break and let me out and treat me like a kid again and maybe then
i'll grow for once and let you know that all the time i played that song i really cared
and then and then
i'll be a real kid again
not some monkey in a circus
playing cymbals for your greedy hands

what can i do
to make you look at me
behind the cymbals?

love me, love me once instead
for who i am