Jacket

There are many purposes for a jacket
There's many things they can be used for
Mostly to shield you from things
To shield your body from the cold
To shield friends from the truth
Much like hiding
To hide your laundry day shirt
To hide your actions
Was I hiding? Or was he hiding me?
Upholds a false image
To isolate us into groups
Hiding in plain sight
Covering your actions.
Their eyes hidden from my rejecting face
But one thing a jacket can't do
It doesn't protect
Shields breaks
Hidden things can be found
But protection... That's different
No holes. No cracks
The faults only in the protector and the protected.

I'm So Imperfect

I'm so incomplete
Like a half written story
With a deep plot, but no growth
Like butter with no toast.
Like a cold drink, a wooden table and no coast.
I'm so imperfect
Like a constant writer
Who often falls short for words
.
.
.
.
.
Ew....
A broken mirror with half written words.
Showing part of the truth
With a incomplete message of all importance
Transparent but dust makes it shifty
Sometimes content
Sometimes worn
Always feeling.
.
.
.
.
.
I'm just not feelin it...

That word I want to use

There has been so many times that I've wanted to use that word
To say it and have a personal meaning like b4
For all the times we've headbutted each other
For all the times you've made me laugh
For every time you said I kicked you out of the bed
I just want to use that word like everybody else
I want you to be here to claim your title
To wear your crown
Many can try but never replace you
They say I'd make you proud and it makes me cry every time
I know you wouldn't want me to
But I never thought that the dictionary in my head
would have that definition erased.
It was stuck in my silly little head
That I could call to you anytime and you'd be here to answer forever
So instead I hold onto my little bit of ignorance
And at night when I go to bed
When everything is dark and as quiet as ever
I whisper: Goodnight Daddy

Thoughts of the hopeless

So again here I am and i may or may not end up writing a poem about this. I'm not venting this time, but just writing how I feel... Somewhat. So today I had class. English and humanities and I went downtown. Everything was kool and I played handball. I felt alive and good once I got back into my flow. Its been so long since I've played and I was really shitty at first. But I kept playin and got better. Well started almost playin how I used to. So I see a few people I haven't seen in awhile and meet up with a friend. I asked him and he read to me the comments my professor left on my english paper and I don't know why, but I just got like... really sensitive over it. I usually feel so great after playing handball, but I don't remember feeling that usual high. Just the before sore tiredness right now. Things just feel so different. On my paper I don't know why, but all those comments that I couldn't read (kuz I suck at reading script) made me so damn touchy. I'm usually very open to critisim... well more open then I think I actually should b. Somebody says lets change this and I usually shrug my shoulders and say ok. I hate when ppl want me to expand on things. And I really don't know why what was said on that paper made me so angry kuz in all actuality I didn't even think it was understandable with me writing it at 4 in the morning and all. But I feel like I have to do the whole paper over... Like everything I've been doing so far was nothing. I didn't feel hollow but a different kind of empty and for a while all ambitions left me. It actually felt like I had a wall guarding the fact that I had none and didn't want to do anything and for a second that wall broke. Forcing me to feel that I actually don't want to do anything. I don't want to write in my future. Nor make music or games. Or even play them. I don't want to help people with their personal problems so I'm lost as to what I'm doing in college. I have no goal, but to just finish. It isn't like high school where I can just barely get by and finish it. I have to have a focus and whatnot now. I don't want to focus on anything. I don't even have a clue as to what to focus on. I don't know what to do. I'm tired of school and all the things it asks of me. Yes. Very tired. I don't care that I have it easy compared to most ppl anymore. Let me just be tired. Stop comparing me. If I wasn't so hellbent on not crying before anyone I would right now. I had always said that I just need to get through school so I can do what I need to do, but I don't even know what that is anymore. Its bad enough I can't focus when I have my incentive, but how will I do it when I have none. And another thing... I have almost always tried my best. I have always tried to make it seem like I didn't do as good as I could so doing better is not an option 4 me. I'm just not feeling things today... I have no idea why I feel like this, but I'm a bit scared.

And so I'm sitting

I'm in this hard wood chair
In this hard wood room that I've stumped mt toe on on more than one occasion.
And I can't think of a damned word to write but these now
And it irritates me
How I can only write when I get the need to
When that sensation overwhelms me
Mostly when I have no way to jot down the thoughts
Which annoys me to no end
Why does it seem like whenever I try I can't
So Imma keep kickin out thoughts till one kicks me back
Because I'm not please with myself.
Its not that there's lack of inspiration
But that I'm dullin too much to notice.
So who am I going to blame?
No one?
The fact that this is no ones fault stays in my mind
But it doesn't feel right not blaming no one for this trash
Seeping through the tip of my fingers
On this key board
In my pencil
Through my nerves that transport thoughts if they do.
In my mind
With no purpose in mind.
In thought or even in this realm
School telling me that there's a process to writing
Which I somehow ignore every time I put words to some paper or screen.
Writers keep their purpose in mind
Keep the audience in mind
Keep their word choice in mind
Keep their tone in mind
But I do none of that
So is it that I'm not a writer or someone is lying?
Is there some type of exception that I don't know about but seem to be apart of?
Maybe, but hey, since when do I like to follow people
This isn't the first and no where near the last
but just a process I guess.
And not some purpose, tone minding writer
but my own
Crazy, unbalanced and personal.

Warning: Don't mess with the natural order!!!

Ok... This post is me venting... Kuz PPL is messin with the order of things.

Ok... So I get up yesterday after being up for awhile and I might have been on the computer I hear a knock on my door. My cousin gets it and my brother is there(The youngest of them all.) He comes in the house right when my cousin decides(First time I spelled that right on the first try) that she wants to make waffles. I love waffles like life itself. But that was only two little waffles(With my little mix of chocolate thx to a certain teacher for putting me back on my rightful path of chocolate syrup) meaning that was only gonna hold me for so long. Later on in the day I get hungry again, but I was fine because I remember that mommy cooked chicken the night before that. Mmmm chicken. So here I was looking forward to some good chicken and a little of the stuff from that night's adventure only to find my fridge empty of the desired treasures. I blink a few times and close the fridge and open it again hoping that i was just buggin. I open it again only to see that indeed there was no food left. This time I stand in front of the fridge with the door open and ponder how this could be. There's always leftovers... Always. Then I think two extra big fat asses ate with us that night and with my crushed little self I sank back into my computer chair wondering what it was that I was going to eat. As time passed I kept going into the kitchen and like all ppl that live in this hood I opened the fridge every time hoping to see something new. Something quick and good to eat. Yes we have other stuff in there but nothing really.... really...instant. We've run out of noodles sadly. It is summer and my stomach acts up plus with the monthly friend right under me my options were limited. Mad that I had no quick food I start yelling(to no one in particular since the criminals were no where near the crime scene) about chicken. And my cousin goes, "Oh you was lookin for the chicken? You should of told me." I instantly started glowing. If someone told me to go to anyone of the many religious places that there are to pray I might of actually said yes at that moment.(I have nothing against religion and there place of worship I just stay away most of the time) She(my cousin) Walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge and showed me this huge piece of aluminum foil. By that time I felt like a starved orphan that had been deprived of food for a week. I opened it so hopeful and grateful that there was a little left from these beast here only to find that that huge piece of foil contained the smallest piece of chicken. I was a little upset but ate it none the less. I was starving so I ate it cold(I felt sorry for the chicken after the deed was done. Poor chicken) But you know what caught me? There was a chicken bone attached to the chicken.. Well less like attached and more like smashed together with the chicken(before I ate it.. I skipped a part) which I quizzed my cousin on. Her only response was, "That's all you're brother left. He said he didn't want it anymore." Then I took some kool aid from that night that I made and got full off of kool aid. I was curled up on my bed starving because I was too hungry to move. My mother finally cooked after getting mad at me for being hungry kuz I could of cooked... Like I could stand straight long enough to set it up. Anywho she finally cooked and I ate and felt so goooood. After the food was put up I relaxed a bit as I thought about how good that would be to eat for lunch the next day. My mother made these type of noodles just the way I like em(which I forgot was up there or else she might of had to cook something else) She barely makes those noodles for me tho. So My brother comes over again and I told that fat bastard not to eat up the food. Not like the fucker listens but I didn't really think about it. So I wake up this mornin(My last day of freedom since I start skool 2morrow) to my cousin who made breakfast... It was kinda like breakfast in bed. I love her at times. So after I get up to take my dishes into the kitchen I check the fridge to make sure that all way is order for later for my mid day snack. I am a fat ass yes, but I limit myself to only eat things that wouldn't stop other people from being fat ass. Mainly I eat my own CLAIMED food. I felt insulted to see that opps his big ass done did it again. He was seriously fukkin with the order of things. He don't live here. So now I have my idea... Imma make my plate for the next day the same time as the first for that night. And if he eat my food again Imma stab him in his damned ankle with the blade that I showed him. I may be going through a little emotional stride, but I don't care because either way he is still messin with the order of my fat assery and I don't like it....

Quote: "Samantha you're fat." I stop and look the idiot up and down as I reply, "Yea. So? I don't care because when I die they're not gonna put me on a scale and say that if I'm over 200lbs then I'm going to hell... Besides, I'm going to hell anyway."