lostMartini ♥

Everything
E N D S

Yet again, not about you masochist
[clarification]

Written during second free of the day.
And its just a rambling of blahdebloohdeblahs [as my awesome-o mate Camzilla would say]

AHEM-HEM-HEM.

I am but a stranger
No one of slightest importance
Of lower rank
and little stance; marked only by concrete eyes.

Of calming tones wavering,
Turquoise streaks out the door.
Though this anger stops me breaking
I am growing cold, and not in winters shell.

If I mean but nothing to you,
Then proclaim it.
Cut throat me with harsh words,
but nothing to remain untold.

I follow myself into the cold.
No one here but me.
Used to be you too, stranger.
But consequences have moulded its plague.

Quick glances to my right,
at the ticking blue door.
No answers for me there.
Abandonment; though not reality.

Give me colors, swirls, and grit.
Handed to me with no shame.
For a girl at the top of adolscence
Has fallen again.

Oh yes, she has fallen again.

And the mournful crowd staring,
slowly awaiting her plunge.
No turquoise seen in the blanketed sky.
But I can do this alone; I am a Morgan.

Dont think I cant catch the glance of
A mournful look.
A simple sigh.

You were the one,
who tuned me out.
Invisible as I may be.

"Hello there, stranger"

A little game to torment me?
Sadistic? Qual.
Or perhaps you're shy.

Bollocks.

Sick of going over;
those possesive turquoise sins.
Dragging me in.

Digging myself out.

Being a Winter child.
I can find a strength.
Being a Morgan.

The skull and crossbones in my veins.

My own pulse,
backing me up.
Though I be mixed. Mongrel.

Strength.

So keep it up, young bird.
But I am well versed,
in the art of war.

Love is a battlefield.


-----------------

[No. Its not about you, masochist. Just to clarify before you throw a hissy fit over a much ado about nothing.
Trivial games are not on my agenda now]

So. Yes. I wrote it during eng. Yet again, not amazeballs but...oh well...
Two frees tommorow.
Rehearsal at lunch.
Papermache after school.

Okeee. Night. (:

Is up at 5:30 AM, due to falling asleep at 5 PM all because of the night before [Psych essay].

Well. This. Sucks.

So, now, Ima have to catch up with le plans via facebook. WHOOT.

I almost watched someone die tonight.
How can God be so cruel, he cannot take her away from us.
Not now.
Not yet.

Her pupils weren't moving.
I had to squeeze her hand.
Tap her face.
Talk to her.
Scream her name.

Just to keep her somewhat here.
And very much alive.

The most threatening ticks of a clock.
As we kept having to say,
"Its not your time yet, you cannot join him yet"

And as the flashing red and blue lights reflected off the wall.
I didnt feel relief. I simply hung onto Charlie tight.
Trying not to sob into his fur.
Telling myself she would be alright.

Then a power outage.
Everything in chaos.
No lights.
Ambulance men finding their way around my living room. Desperately trying to help the woman on the couch.

Now shes at the hospital.
And shes atleast breathing.

God cannot be so cruel as to take her away from us.
So he didn't.
And he better not.
Not sooner, but much later.


[This isnt a poem. This is the account of the past hour, and here I sit, in silence. There are no words.]

Considering I have nothing of particular interest to really blog about, I'd just like to say:

http://jamies-blogg.blogspot.com/ - My Best Friends Photo Blog. She is absolutely amazeballs, so check her out ;)

& her other blog photo blog dedicated to documenting her school outfits with the restriction to a Black & White dresscode
 - http://www.jamie-ruers.blogspot.com/ 


Oh, one thing - Mi hermana and I started the 'I Like Shorts' Accoustics. Instead of working on Math, TA, Psych & Espanol, I've spent the past five hours figuring out the chords to Androgynous.

x

Though your clockwork heart be breaking
your winter draws near.
Hardening your pulse,
turning your mind
becoming the new IceQueen.

You used to fear her icy breath,
but now your thirst quenched by her monotone.
enveloping the new world
though it be not rational,
just a reminder of a broken beat.

"Mal sabor" the truth but none,
its words harmless but to one
but the hurt you block
loosening the strings
you're not a little girl anymore

Give me the stolen shots at redemption
Give me the moment back
Give me the churchyard
Give me the bench
Dont give me anything.

I carry on.

Its winter, as a child of cold
I thrive, untouchable
Delusional in fact, because, m'dear
everytime you look up, I glance back
You look away.

A poets inspiration
is not from its grave
or graffiti
but rather the beat
the complex rhythm of words and lines.


[wrote it during psych, it was supposed to be a stream of consciousness but, its actually now just a really random poem]

Okay, so I may have slightly overreacted in my last post. Its just, others viewing me differently for my most blatantly honest actions. Not only that, but, oh gosh, I don't know. Seems the only one who actually fucking gets it is Superman, which is exceedingly odd, for he is one of the last people you'd think of to understand a situation like this. I should give him more credit, he has been dragged through the mud, and when he's not acting like an asshole, hes actually a pretty good guy.

Short post this, going into TP tommorow with Ryn to get some hamster stuff, and his hamster. Despite what his padre might say...
Now, back to watching movies with useless romantic cliches and nursing a broken organ with cioccolato...