in my perfect world, everything would be beautiful.

there would be no ugly, concrete buildings, or big, hulking SUVs. no strip malls, no chain stores. 

every place would be uniquely built, looking like nothing else constructed. 

we would all run on sunshine and wind and water; the air would be clean to breathe. 

the avenues filled with trees and flowers, people walking their dogs and biking along,

and the cars brightly colored, holding happy travelers.

in my world, everyone could go to school, and get healthcare, and be able to feed themselves.

there would be no hate, and gay people could marry.

religion would have it's place, but no one would use it to intimidate.

men wouldn't harm women, and they would instead do everything to uplift them.

women wouldn't feel like the inferior sex; they wouldn't feel like starving themselves, or getting plastic chests.

in my world, people would love themselves, and each other, and would be happy to help others;

no need to conform to pressure to be thin, or blonde, or normal, or straight.

no celebrity worship, and lust for fakery.

in my world, you and i would stay,

curled up under a tree's shade, safe and at peace.

i am dozing on your lap, your fingers in my hair, the sound of trains are in the air.

what could be better than this? our books lay half-read in the grass.

you awake me gently to kiss me, lips soft and sweet, tasting of ice cream.

and i whisper, don't go anywhere, my love.

“Myths & legends die hard in America. We love them for the extra dimension they provide, the illusion of near-infinite possibility to erase the narrow confines of most men’s reality. Weird heroes & mold-breaking champions exist as living proof to those who need it that the tyranny of “the rat race” is not yet final.”

(Hunter S. Thompson)

i feel really bitter lately. i don't want to hang out with anyone. i'm angry and frustrated with my life. i don't even know where to begin.

i want to make new friends. but how? i want to be a better person. but how? i am of the opinion that my life sucks. i want to live a better life. i want friends that share my ideals and goals and everything. people who are adventurous and unpretentious and wild and free. i don't know. i want to go on adventures. that's all i've ever really wanted. my boyfriend is gone for a month overseas, and as lame as it sounds, i miss him a lot, and i wish he was here. i wish i had more friends. i wish i wish i wish.

i'm getting tired of this town, and tired of sitting still. i'm tired of feeling powerless and alone. i don't know what i want to do with my life, and i don't want to figure it out just yet. but i feel pressure to plan out my life. i just want to see the world and meet new people and learn. i don't add anything to the group dynamic, so i can see why my friends don't like having me around. i feel utterly ordinary.

has time changed us, or have we stayed the same? i'm afraid of you leaving, but also i'm afraid i'll leave you.

i'd like to believe i've changed and become a better person, but what if i haven't changed one bit, and i'm the same person i was 2 years ago?

i have to wonder who i've become. is it noticeable to anyone on the outside?

I'm the fetid swamp, the black lagoon,
I'm the branches scratching at the moon.

i seem to exist

there are nothing but questions.
as to who i am and what the rain sounds like on tin roofs.
i am nothing but
an empty sound, a gourd.
i am waiting for the singing of magpies,
i am waiting for the trains calling softly.
the forest is green after a wet night,
and it opens as we fall behind the sun;
a whistle blows, the bark grows.
are your knees as scabbed as mine?
the blood has dried for now,
only to flow again under the tired trees.
moss is underfoot, a cushion for aching bodies.
does your body ache?
berries stain the mouths and skin,
and i move to go no where.
i only go, and you follow,
the pine needles falling.