Monogram

Monograms on my towels.
These are not my initails.
Who is this, in my home
stealing from my lowly throne?

These things are mine
These toys in line
Marching onward, ho!
Keys in backs powered not by springs
but wine,
heavy fruit laden vine
wraps like infant snake
covering my ineptitude.
Onward, ho!

Monkeys banging cymbals
hop west
leaving craters with their footsteps,
making me crawl behind the giants
while the snake grows teeth in place of gums

All I'm asking is to be true
when i stop,
quit, loving you.
'Cause when we got old
You got saved
and i?
-i just got cold

Dear Grape Beast

Car,
I've had you for a long time now, and I like to think I take pretty good care of you. I buy you gas, fill up your tires... Sure, I take you for some pretty long drives, but never without making sure you have all the coolant and oil your little machine heart could desire! So Car, why Car, are you dying? It seems like you're just falling apart by bits. First, the brake dust guard you decided to drag around for a week, then the two blown tires, now this? I only wanted to rent a movie, and blockbuster is too far to walk. Why wont you start? Do you like looking at the new releases posters that much? Come on baby, come on home!
love,
your driver

My Violet Hill

I had something specific in mind when I sat down to write this, but now, of course, it elludes me.
Damn.
I guess I'll just go where the words take me then.
I think I'm going to put some tortillas in the oven and see if I can make my own chips.
I don't want to go to those parties anymore. I'm all responsibility and no fun. It's gotten to the point that I envy the other kids their fun because they're rocking out and I can't get into it. It's actually a pretty hard loss. But. I think I'd rather take your company in larger, more private doses. I'm really one of your friends, dear boys, and not just some chick at your party. Although that does cut down on the liklihood of being one of your shameless hookups, well, that's kind of a plus now, isn't it?
I don't know why, but this letter, to me, seems to be taking a rather melodramatic twist. How unfortunate. I cannot properly express my love for all my Loves.
I was talking to my wonderful roommate Liz, the other day and we spoke on the matter of friendships. How, for example, there are many kinds of friendship and many ways in which to express it. The two of us tend to express our caring and our love through Service. There are few things that I enjoy more than doing something to help out one of my friends. Or, not even help, just doing something nice. Renting you that movie, burning you that cd, buying you lunch. Making you dinner. Helping you clean. It just brings me joy and brings me closer to my loves.
However,
there are times when it can wear one a little thin. If it is expected. If it is overlooked. If it is unappreciated. Then it's much less fun and there's much less love. I've seen how it wears on people. I've seen that horrible look in a friend's eyes when something they really invested in is skimmed over or tossed aside.

What I'm really trying to say is this:
I love you.
Yes,
dear reader,
You.

Also, don't put your presents in the freezer. It's rude.

Mi mi mi mind

I've been doing a lot of sitting on the balcony and thinking today. It's so so nice out. No humidity for once this summer. So, I've been sitting and thinking and writing and napping. All good things. My head is getting a littler clearer for it, and my heart a little lighter.
I try to keep things pretty surface over here at Special Homecoming Outlaws, I need some lightness in my world of words, so I'll try not to go into too much right now.
But
Sitting in the sun and thinking about the coincidences in the past couple of days in my life has really, really, I don't know, given me something. I'm not sure what this is. Good, I think, but unusual. I've made some pretty shoddy decisions lately, and said some pretty stupid things, which I regret. In the moments that they're are said or done, it doesn't seem to matter, like it's some alternative world and I will in no way be held responsible for my actions. My words.
Which is a shame because it's a lie. And a waste of perfectly good words. As Hope would say, 'it's like the words are dying...' oh emo.

I really am getting better. The cold jealousy that starts in your belly and runs to your heart, that's going away. I'm feeling much less like a gutted fish when I look at you. My face no longer burns with what I want to say and my heart has stopped skipping when you walk into the room.

I know now that I love him, but no more than I've ever loved the others. And while that could be quite a bit,

it's not.