...and then a magical unicorn floated down and said, "Behold, I hold the ambrosia of the gods."

And clutched in its purple hoof was a bag of Nacho Cheese Doritos. It placed the Doritos gently upon my head, whinnied, and galloped away on a rainbow made of human faces.
I really love Nacho Cheese Doritos. Sometimes I think that I write to give purpose to my life, but now I remember that the only purpose I have in life is to eat all of the Nacho Cheese Doritos. All of them.
Of course, this means I must eat all Doritos, past and present and future. And since time traveling hasn't been invented yet, and the Doctor won't take me on as a companion because I'm not blond or red-haired, unfortunately, if you've ever consumed a Nacho Cheese Dorito in your life, I'm going to have to split you open and eat your stomach.
This applies to anyone who eats one in the future, too. So put down that Dorito. I mean it.
Also writing.
This is unpolished and unfinished, I think, so. If you have critique, share it, and I'll only maul your face a little bit.

"But why?" sighs the willow tree
As I stretch beneath her canopy
Nothing gave me better company
Than that softly sighing willow tree.

"Why so sad?" chirps the bluebird
Perched up high on the willow tree
No one offered better advice
Than the truth the bluebird told me.

"Nothing lasts forever," called the satin leaves
Their honest chorus sang to me
as I lay beneath the willow tree
and the weeping willow gently grieved.

"There's always hope," says she
As she reaches her hand to the willow tree
and beckons the bluebird from her perch
and sings a tune for the lonely leaves
and melts away into the night.

And I rejoice in the sun's bright light.

Oh, Woe,

I don't really know. I haven't written anything in a while, so it's strange. Just.. shh.

Doe, look not so innocent
Your soul betrays malicious intent
For all your purity you cannot hide
All the times you've tricked and lied.

Oh doe, look not so surprised
Cannot deer live sinner's lives?
Blink slowly, but understand
The judgment hour is close at hand.

Oh, doe, look not so alarmed;
Only the unrighteous shall be harmed.

Doe, stretch not your neck to me
I've got more important things to see.

Brevity

The brevity of a blooming flower is astounding to me
They live only to smell sweet and soak up the sun
If such a short life is filled with such joy
It forces me to wonder
Is the long life worth living?

In Which I Reveal Works in Progress

I can never actually finish shit though. Whatever.

Punchline:
I want to beat you with my logic
Cold cock you with knowledge
Love's an unusual dichotomy for me
It doesn't go over well at parties.

Untitled:
I could kiss your poisoned lips
I could lay beside you in eternity
But frankly that doesn't interest me
I look towards the dead for tips

Untitled #2:
Strolling through the graveyard in late afternoon
Watching as ragged trees rattle their bones
And sing for our sins on the spring blossom wind
I crack a smile and I'm home.

Trod on the roofs of the dead and gone
Plots staked out in anticipation of fate
Sparrows ride on the aerial tide above my mind
Stop and wonder at the noise they make.

Lay among the silent population
As leaves rustle and discuss the sun
Stained my eyes with ghostly lies and promises
Yet they still say I'm the lucky one.


Yep.

Look, Shit!

Going on my previously hatched assumption that no, nobody gives a shit what I do, I'm gonna post some works that aren't necessarily edited or polished to perfection, against the advice of the type-A perfectionist/neurotic who inhabits my mind sometimes.

You'll Just Have To Trust Us

What a price to pay for freedom
What a prize is awarded at the end
While the world parades deaf and dumb
Yet still there's this shuddering trend
Violence and inhumanity reigns
What queen has taken her throne?
We're helping, trust us, however faint
You'll just have to trust us on this one.

Other Stuff
Birds and song and sorrow
That's all I can hear
in the depths of my mind a party thumps
and a voice rises from its casket
"hello hello" it says joyfully
a keener joy was never heard
a fierce fright bubbles forth
today something new takes hold.

It's Valentine's Day

And instead of spitting out some quips about consumerism or depression, I'm just going to tell you about how I almost burned someone's homework today, but I was foiled by a safety match.
Actually, that's about the whole story. I was coloring with a match, slightly hoping that it would catch on fire because I hated that kid, whose homework I was scribbling on with frenzied abandon, who began to hate me with a passionate passion for no good reason at all about a month and a half ago and I just can't forgive him for that because I thought he was going to be, in my friend's words, my Black Lightning. But then I looked up the difference between regular friction matches and safety matches (the difference being that safety matches have powdered glass in them which causes friction when it strikes the pad, which only works

[Your regularly scheduled blog post has been interrupted for this special announcement: I just watched the series finale of Medium, which is a show I'm not obsessed with but I followed it for the last couple of seasons, and I am crying SO HARD. It was like The Notebook. Your regularly scheduled blog post will resume.]

when the pad also has powdered glass in it, or something) and I stopped, figuring it useless, and flung the match dramatically across the room, where it landed in the corner for some inquisitive and lucky 6th grader to find and wreak mayhem with, if they can manage. And then I got depressed on the bus, fell asleep, daydreamed about zombie killing with a certain extremely attractive person until I was happy again, got off the bus, tried not to slip and kill myself on the melting ice while walking home, sprinted past a dead squirrel conveniently moved FROM THE STREET WHERE NOBODY CARED TO THE SIDEWALK WHERE EVERYBODY DOES, stopped, gagged, got over it, ran inside.
That was my day, or at least the highlights/lowlights of it.

Also, I fell down the stairs yesterday and thought I died for a couple minutes, went into shock (which I believe because my heart was beating super fucking slow) and then got up and realized I just had a bruise back, elbow and ass. Awesome. Black and blue in time for the one day of the year when I get my hopes up that someone will send me a secret note or confess their love or something and nobody does.

This was more melodramatic than I'd hoped. Oh well.

Edit: Oh, I forgot to post a poem and stuff. Poems. Hmm.

How far would I go for you?
Maybe I’ve become
Immune
The clock in my mind is set to June
Who knew?
Nature dies and seasons change
Lives crumble and brim with pain
Bound together by a lifeblood chain
Who gains?
Papercuts and freezerburn
Tides rise and waves return
Firewood for flames yearn
Who burns?
Limbs twitch in dying throes
To this sweet dark night they owe
A last lover’s whisper death bestows
And breathes
Who knows?

...Like I said, not everything posted on this is going to be polished or even remotely good. I try.

Yeah, I May Be a Sadist

Lucifer, Lucifer
Beckon with your forked tongue
Gilded golden guileless fun
Is it true the game's just begun?
Toy with me, coy with me
Duel in the shadows
Lucifer, Lucifer, what do I owe?
What must I owe?

Lucifer, Lucifer, what have you done?
Dangerous dallisome dominant fun
Stripped of the pieces that made me one
Lucifer, Lucifer, what have I done?

Random Exercises and the Scribbling of a Madwoman

Interspersed throughout my writing notebook are random poems I write sort of subconsciously when I'm trying to come up with a line for an actual poem. Thought I'd share, some are pretty ridiculous.

Caffeine:
Tricky to spell
Impossible to smell
Still I can't quell
Shaking like hell
Stressed by the bell
But that's just as well
For headlong I fell.

Untitled Something 1:
The need for acceptance and
the fear of being rejected clash
in the most spectacular way
you can imagine
fireworks tears and song.

Untitled Something 2:
Hopes are like butterflies
Adrift on the ocean
Miles from home and
Brimming with emotion.
What I write makes no sense
So I guess it's called art
But only by those
With a pitiful heart.

Untitled Something 3: (originally part of US2)
My rhyming is weak
my tempo off beat
my words have no heat
the bones have no meat
the legs have no feet
the dog has no treat
the drunk has no mead
the flutist no reed
the cows lack their feed
the addict no need
the pothead no weed
the Nicenes no creed
there's nothing to read
except my incredibly amateur
poetry.

It's Fun To Write Limericks!:
Ah, what fun it is to write a limerick!
Your results could be quite terriferic!
I think you will find
It's a hard skill to refine
Because nothing quite rhymes with limerick!

I give up, this is a writing blog

Nobody really wants to hear about my day. Hell, I don't want to hear about my day. It sucked.
I don't think people necessarily want to read my writing either, but whatever.
This one is a work in progress, and I think it will perpetually be a work in progress. Does that mean it's just a bad poem? Maybe.
I thought I watched the pattern
of the swiftly falling guillotine
rising, falling, darting like death
flashing brightly, blade unseen.

Opposite the guillotine
A golden apple beckons
Inaccessable behind the winking blade
A softly sweeping beacon.

I thought I watched the pattern
Neck outstretched beneath the guillotine
But as I strained for the golden apple
The blade plummeted, vicious and keen.

I thought I watched the pattern
of the guillotine swiftly falling.

But I was wrong;
cruelty has no pattern.

Yeah I hate the second stanza. I hate the whole thing really. Whatever.

I watched the Super Bowl and it was actually really fun

I rooted for the Packers, since they were the underdogs and gosh I love me a good underdog story, and they won. Just goes to show you what magic my support generates.
Just kidding. They played a fantastic game, really, I can't believe I actually had fun watching it! Anyway, it was worth the homework-ignoring that went on. Sweet fuck I'm tired, skiing wears you out, so sorry if this post makes no sense or my sentence constructions are a little off. It happens. So I'll post something I wrote when I wasn't tired. And that makes sense. Hopefully. Am I drunk?

A Poem and Stuff:

There’s a time when the world is magical
Lit with a soul anew
It’s a precious kind of miracle,
The wondrous afternoon half-light.

Spiderwebs stretch across blades of grass
Like a precarious tightrope of beauty
They shine with the light of the rainbow,
In the glow of the afternoon half-light.

Moths anxiously flit from spot to spot
Touched with a golden shimmer
Even the smallest of creatures are exquisite,
Basked in the glory of this afternoon half-light.

Red-gold leaves are scattered throughout the grass
Like jewels throughout a coal mine
Their colors sparkle and dance like fairies,
Feeling the joy of the afternoon half-light.

There’s a time when everything shines gaily
And no creature is left without grace
Every farthest dream seems possible
In the wondrous afternoon half-light.

More Crappy Poetry Because I Can't Be Fucked to Actually Talk About Something

How cruel is a drop of water
if only a drop;
in the midst of the dry desert.
That drop of sparkling hope, fuels a
thirst for many more
to follow.

How cruel is an implication of love
if only an implication;
and not in practise, for it only makes
the heart yearn for
emotions scorned.

How cruel is a taste of heaven,
if only a taste;
what Lucifer threw away with vengeance
but one can not linger; how cruel, then
is but a taste of heaven.

Thus the cruelty of that drop of water,
as innocuous, as innocent as it may seem;
for just a taste of perfection only
makes the absence that much
clearer.

Poetry is not my forte, okay?

But here. Be forewarned, it's old and shitty, but whatever, I did nothing today because I was semi-sick and tired, so I have nothing else to post.

The intricacies of birds in spring
An innocent, pure and wholesome thing
Every day they visit me
And always take me under wing.

A sheltered life is hard to lead
They opened the cage to set me free
I crawled out and embraced the light
But needy night won't let me be.

Now in my mind the birds take flight
To flee the bloodlust of the night
Though I try to pull away,
This taunting greed I cannot fight.

The birds have fled and ceased to sing
They've left me crowned reluctant king
Alone on this throne I wond'rously think
Of the intricacies of birds in spring.