Still

I must still love you but...
without love,
without hate.
And I still see you sometimes
with pretty smiles, dolled up eyes.
But you're lonely. All alone.

I still love you.
And pieces,
the pieces of me left shattered
they love you.
They love you.
Oh how they love you.

And that bitter pain,
the one that feels like you?
It sits inside my lungs and cries;
drowning me in saline solution.
The resin is my pain,
sticky like tar, touching everything.

A secret agony with an unbroken heart
you see me too.
Like a woman in black who grieves,
the wind wails.
The wind, my soul wails and mourns
for what never was and never will be.

Something forever unhealed,
this my private place
and yet you're here once again.
We see each other,
but we haven't even met.
Still I love you.

Bliss

lets play cannibals i'll eat your organs.
change the channel.
historically speaking, she was the queen.
don't choke too hard, fucker.
they had only seen their mother cry once.
elaborate stages, elaborate plots.
sing-sing housed his body but his heart was in the ocean.
turn green. the light, turn green.
roundhouse and everyone is DOWN.
the plague feels like this. quite bubonic.
what time is it in the east indies right now?
set the table right or i'll punch your face in again.
gutters don't catch the rain - let it slide
sweet oblivion in projectile vomit
the eye of the twister and its calm.
DRINKING THE AMMONIA NOW, THANK YOU OFFICER.
i never thought being an astronaut would be this hard.

My First Crush

I want to take you back a long time ago. A time when life was simple in my sandy blonde dog ears, stumbling around in the red dirt of my grandparents' farm, my home. My pink and white checkered dress would always get horribly messy but each time my mom washed it, my dress was so clean and pristine that I would always be itching to jump back into my own world of innocent mischief. The only time I cried was when my Barbie sneakers accidently squished a harmless bug or the nights that Daddy wasn't going to be home in time to check under the bed for the monsters. I was wide eyed and innocent in a world where I didn't believe wrong existed.

His name was Chad and now that I think of him, he will always be the cutest guy I've ever gaze upon with a wide eyed stare as he hammered sun warmed nails into our roof. He did various work on our house and around the farm so I would follow him with my four yeard old innocene like a puppy following a butterfly with wonder in his eyes. Chad would pick me up in his arms and swing me around and around and around under the golden sun until I couldn't breathe from laughing. He was in his early twneties and, as is common in a small town, already married to his high school sweetheart. Even now I believe she was a lucky girl because I still remember how his sweet, sweet eyes were the color of a crisp mountain stream as the frost of winter lay dorment once more.

He would always call me his future wife but I know I could never hold him to his promise. And that's okay with me because the memory of his eyes is enough for me.

I want to love him...

But I can't.

He hurt me. And that's putting it simply.

He betrayed my trust.
He violated my space.
He disrespected my feelings.

I tried to forget and I tried to forgive.
But some words cut too deep.

I want to love him. But I just can't.


I'm sorry.

Friends Let Friends Blog (subtitle by Ireland: this is proabably the best thing ever.)

Today, I have guest blogger! She's a weird, creepy, freak of nature but I quite adore her. Let's hear it for Ireland! You can find my post on her blog. Click that link thingie.
_______________________
thank you, thank you.

no really, stop. really.

enough applause already. I'm getting old here.

I don't really know what I'm going to write about. this was all very spontaneous.

um......

well, then "when in rome".....

I shall write a poem for you. this is probably going to suck, so I'm apologizing ahead of time.

I'm a poet and I didn't know it,
I can make a rhyme anytime.

(just kidding, here's my real poem)

cheese, soda, chocolate chip;
Indiana Jones hits people with his whip.
The bears go out for a night on the town,
and the radar makes a noise like "blip".

that is quite possibly the best thing I have ever written. I'm so proud of myself.


and, because I'm making this up as I go along, here is a funny picture I found on google that Nova said was "inappropriate" and I couldn't put it on her blog.

too bad, Nova. too bad.

those darn doggies. how dare they ruin a completely innocent picture that some old lady most likely was taking to show off her new living room furniture to her kids (who couldn't care less)?

at least her kids got a laugh out of it, and thankfully shared it with the rest of the world.

the other day, my older sister came over (she doesn't live with us anymore) to do some laundry. when I got home from practice, she was at the store or something, and had left a message for me to "please put her load of clothes in the dryer".

really, sister? REALLY?!

she just loves making me do stuff for her.

lucky for me, I found a couple of dimes and a quarter at the bottom of the washer that most likely fell out of the pocket of her jeans.

she still owes me the other half of my payment.

wasn't that a lovely story?

indeed it was.

um...

here's another picture, because my brain is fried and I haven't gone to bed before 1am all week. I typed in "random", and this is what I got:

awesome.

You Know

You know,
You could love me.
If only you'd let yourself.

You know,
I'm the girl of your dreams.
If only you'd forget the nightmares.

You know,
You care about me.
If only you'd quit denying it.

You know,
I'm here for you always.
If only you'd open your eyes.

You know,
This could be forever.
If only you'd try.

2 Hot 4 U

Okay. I'll admit it. I love Brad Pitt's ass. I fantasize about licking chocolate syrup off of Ryan Reynolds' abs. I started drooling uncontrollably at Gerad Butler. And have you even seen Jonathan Rhys Meyers? My god, he's better Adonis!

But really, oh, do you know who really gets me going? A Wood Elf druid with extreme dexterity and a Stonewood Compound Bow. That's an Everquest reference. Ya know, old school WoW? One of the last good MMORPG's.

In other words, geeks. Yes, I said geeks. Their pasty skin takes me back to arts and crafts using Elmer's glue in first grade but it's always the softest to touch. Every D&D remark that comes out of those chapped, Cherry flavored lips sends shivers down my spine. They know the difference between anime and manga. Between DC and Marvel. Between Star Trek and Star Wars. On Friday nights, they lay beneath 500 count Egyptian cotton and ponder the age old question, do Balrogs have wings?

Maybe it's just me but I find geeks to be ever so hot and sexy. Of course I'm not talking about ones that are 5'3, overweight, living in their parents basement. I'm talking about the Clark Kents of the world. Less buff but still you get the general gist. A true geek is usually scrawny everywhere...except where it matters...And that's all I need to start stripping to the theme song from Dr. Who.

Mama Called the Doctor

Scritch.
Scratch.
Scritch.

Don't look at me like that.
You've been judging me since I sat.
And I don't like your eyes upon me
'Cause I'm scared of what you'll see.

Scritch.

Did you write down that I'm insane?
'Cause I'm not, I just have a lot of pain.

Scratch.

Maybe I have issues with my dad
But that isn't the only reason I get sad.

Scratch.

I don't even know if it's possible to heal.
No, I don't know how that makes me feel!

Scritch.

Some days I can't get out of bed.
Some days I just live inside my head.
But isn't that normal nowadays?
Please say yes, please don't send me away.

Scratch.
Scritch.
Scratch.

Lover, I...

Outstretched arms, fingers yearning.
Lover, I see you.
Yet in your eyes, there is nothing.
The mask has faded through.
The words you speak ring untrue.

Sweet kisses, steadfast embrace.
Lover, I know you.
Thought there's a stranger in your face.
Someone different, it's someone new.
So I've begun to question things you do.

Laughter echos, smiles remain.
Lover, I want you.
But you're drowing me in pain.
I've lost the boy I once knew.
Now fear screams he's losing me too.

Soul dancing, heart beating.
Lover, I need you.
Still our time is fleeting.
Our days, our moments are few.
And no more nightmares will ensue.

Lover, I see you.
Lover, I know you.
Lover, I want you.
Lover, I need you.
But Lover, I no longer love you.

Lunacy

What I say isn't always what I mean,
And though I try, what I mean isn't what I feel
But what I feel is never what it seems
Because what it seems is never real.

Without stepping once, I can stumble,
Falling down, cut myself on frozen air.
Without speaking sounds, I can mumble,
Talking aloud, though nobody is there.

The words I love to write don't make sense.
Still graphite shapes letters with curves of a girl.
They hold my memories of a forgotten tense.
And in their valleys, my story can unfurl.

Maybe I'm crazy, but maybe I'm sane,
Trapped in a world where freedom is my cage.
Bodies bursting coloros in the gray mush of brain,
All calm and collected as we white out the page.

Sometimes I smile when somebody dies.
True, it may be wrong but tears make me giggle
Because my soul is the Lord of the Flies
And because in the ground, only worms still wiggle.

Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays, please lock me away.
Slam the door of a padded room and lose the skeleton key.
I'm going down so you don't need to be walking my way
'Cause those days are when I'm best and you'd fall in love with me.

You need to stop. Now.

Dear Arch Nemesis,

I've thought of another reason I loathe your absolute existence. You have a cute laugh and it annoys me to no end because people as horrific as you should not be allowed to have cute laughs that make me giggle when I hear them. Adorable chuckles should be reserved for adorable people and I know what you're thinking. You're thinking you're just the most adorable thing since I was dressed as Pebbles for my first birthday and my cousin who was born on the same day was dressed as Bam-Bam. Well you know what?

That WAS freakin' adorable and you come nowhere close to that. Your eyes are really creepy and ice blue like a Siberian Husky but not the good kind. No, yours are the kind that belong to the dog who eats the heads off of snow bunnies. You have a weird nose. It isn't too big or too small. It's just weird. And there. On your face. Your nose has no purpose. And your hair? Psh. Don't get me started. You had really pretty long hair and during the middle of WINTER when it's freezing COLD outside, you cut it all off. That was just dumb and now you look like an Army brat. Plus you have no ass. What good is a man if he's flatter in the rear than...something...really, really, really flat?

And you're a horrible person. Even if you were weird looking, you're an incorrigible, self-absorbed, pompous, arrogant poo-poo head! You insult me constantly and degrade my thoughts, opinions, feelings. I've never had one individual belittle so much and it makes me despise your parents for giving birth to such a demonic child. Except I don't really despise your parents because I don't know them and I'm sure they are very lovely people. They just happened to spawn Satan's son. You think you're so cool and clever. But you're not. You think you're so smart and funny. But you're not. Sometimes I want to ask you if you know that people aren't laughing with you, they're laughing at you. But then I feel bad when I think of that because unlike you I have a soul and I don't usually like to hurt other people. I like to hurt you but not to your face.

All in all, I would appreciate it if you stopped laughing cutely because it makes me feel a twinge of warmth towards you. For a second, when I hear your boyish little giggle, I forget what a monster you are and I don't like that feeling. So stop it. Laugh manically like all evil people should. MWAHAHAHAHA!! See? Even I can do it and I'm not evil. Therefore, you should easily be able to accomplish that and I'll stop forgetting you're a cootie head.

Love and licks,

Nova

Southern Love

Okay so I live in the gun-loving, deer-hunting, coon-chasing, dip-chewing, tabacco-spitting, beer-guzzling South. Bred and born in the heart of Virginia. Thus, I've grown up listening to country music. To be quite frank (even though I'm not. I'm actually Nova. Shut up. That wasn't a bad joke.), it's probably the only Southern thing that has stuck itself to me. And I love four wheelers, especially when it's nasty and muddy and it takes an extra three feet to stop 'cause you're sliding like Wilbur in a buttermilk bath. Otherwise, I'm a vegetarian and a extremist liberal. Sometimes you might catch me calling myself a punk third-wave feminism aesthetic. See, a majority of the time the children that grow up in the south go one of two ways.

Road A, they take on the ever so admirable title of "redneck" and have all the amazing attributes the South has to offer. You can commonly find them hanging out on the beds of their pick-up trucks in the Wal-Mart parking lot. They party hard with a baby on their hip. Most of these individuals don't make it too far from the cesspool of the small town they were raised in. Sometimes they do migrate a few miles to the neighboring country should they find a worthy mate. Their favorite past time can range from skinning a deer to tailgating at a home football game.

Road 2, those who choose to embark on this epic journey shun everything having to do with their culture. These are can be classified into several different categories and the subjects may range from gothic to drama geek to basically every cliqué that isn't "redneck". They bash country music, they shun four wheeling, and God forbid they ever participate in a shotgun wedding. Some of them will cry if they break a nail and others will protest the biting of nails because they have "feelings"! 

Road A or Road 2, is it really a choice on which you take? Or are you just basically screwed for life like me 'cause you just had to be born in the gun-loving, deer-hunting, coon-chasing, dip-chewing, tabacco-spitting, beer-guzzling South?

All An Illusion

Where can I run? Where can I hide?

Who can I trust? In whom can I confide?

What is real? What is see through?

And what on earth am I supposed to do?

Future Husband

This is probably one of my favorite games. Best played when you have a bunch of hyper, under-stimulated, so called "geeks" and a room full of unsuspecting prey. I feel like a lioness when I play. I watch and stalk my victim. My choice is always carefully selected and when I'm ready...I pounce!

Not really. If I randomly pounced on a stranger and screaming "YOU'RE MY FUTURE HUSBAND!!!", I'd probably get punched in the ovaries and I quite like my ovaries not getting punched. Instead this is how it really goes down:

Blonde 1: Guy in the black pea coat sitting in front of the water dispenser.

Blonde 2: I don't see him! Where?

Nova: You're the freakishly tall one. How can you not see him? He's next to girl in maroon too short dress.

Blonde 2: Hey! We need a camera so we can get his picture so I can see my future hubby's face.

Blonde 1: Don't look at me.

Nova: -pulls a camera from her handy dandy female jockstrap- A camera like this?

Blonde 1: You know you wouldn't even have to ask to take his picture. Just pull the camera out of there again and the guys'll be begging for it.

Blonde 2: Ahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!

Nova: He...he...he...not cool. Okay, go take the picture.

Blonde 1: I'm not touching that thing.

Blonde 2: You can do it, Nova. Just act like you're getting a bottle of water.

Nova: I don't have any money.

Blonde 2: You don't need money. Just look at them like you're not sure which to choose.

Nova: But...they are all water...

Blonde 1 & 2: -demonic voices- GO! DO IT! NOW!! GOOOO!

So against my better judgement I went. My camera was on and set to the blur reduction mode 'cause this was going to have to happen quick. The room we were in was a cafeteria and there were probably a good sixty or seventy people in there. I started slow, walking along a table of untrusting faces as they watched me advance. Nervously, I avoided their glares and spun around to be back to back with a cool column, holding my camera up like a pistol and I'm 007. I feel eyes targeting in on me from all around and I try to keep cool but it's not working. I retreat.

Nova: I can't doooo it!!

Blonde 1: Yes you can! Now go!!

This little action segue occurs several more times. Finally I got a friend to sneak me over there under the pretense of conversation. Unsuspecting fools. I snapped pictures repeatedly and managed to capture a few lucky shots. I did all of this for them and who is my future husband? Oh because of my hard work, I got to pick. Boy with cat ears that SHHs people or boy who sings Lady GaGa and starts dancing circles.

Wanna roll with him a hard pair, we will be.

A little gambling is fun when you're with me, I love it.
Russian Roulette is not the same without a gun
And baby when it's love if it's not rough it isn't fun, fun.



I apologize for the absolute lameness of this post.

Holy Water

"You're so strong. You made it through",
They say these things without a clue.
Yes, I'm still here, but I'm not strong,
Left wounded, bleeding far too long.

My pain it lives inside my skin.
Always on the outside, looking in,
I see this world from a broken angle
From the darkness, snared and tangled.

His sickness hovers always near
Reminding me of what I fear.
Yet beneath the overgrowth of ugly layers,
I'm all done crying my unanswered prayers.

I'm leaving behind his legacy.
As I toe the water, I'm finally free.
And willing this time I sink under
Bathing in a new world of wonder.

My First Blog Award

From: Lovesick Fool

This feels like the first time I managed to tie a knot cherry stem using only my tongue. I didn't know how I did that then [though I'm a master at it today] and I don't know how I did this now but I have to say thank you, Lovesick Fool. Recieving this award made me realize something about my blog. Now I know that I don't have tons of followers or hordes of screaming adolescents screaming outside my window but it makes me feel as someone out there truly is listening. I don't wish to sound like every other person who thanks their followers but you guys, thank you. Seriously. Every time I recieve a comment from y'all, my heart skips a beat [but in the good kind of way] because it's always something good and if you haven't noticed, good isn't something I'm used to. But I adore this blog and I adore you guys.

Now with this great award comes great rules.

1) I must pass on this award to another 15 bloggers who I recently discovered and love.
2) Inform your chosen bloggers of their award.
3) If you appear on this list, you must do the same and, like I'm doing, display this award on your blog, either in a post or on your sidebar.

This might prove a little bit of an obstacle for me because I'm not sure I can choose a mere 15 bloggers but I shall try my best. This may take a little while to fully complete and this post will be updated each time I find someone I feel is deserving of this award. Nonetheless, I shall obey the rules 'cause I'm such a good girl...

A Moment of Repose

Ireland: Why do you have that random picture there?

Me: I don't know. It's abstract-esque.

Ireland: It's really random...

Me: No, it's really cool.

Ireland: No, it's really weird.

Me: Well I'm weird. And I like it.

Ireland: ....loser.


I think there comes a point in a friendship where you don't even have to pretend to be nice. I'm not saying that once this pinacle is reached that you start insulting each other endlessly and the like. No, what I'm saying there comes a point in every good relationship where you both just stop pretending. It's an unspoken occurance yet you both know it. You've become comfortable with them and finally are able to trust them enough to stay by your side even if you don't praise them every day or rain down compliments. I have a hard time getting to this place with anyone because it's a scary place. It's even scarier when you have scars and secrets. So getting past this point, to me, it feels greater than finding a twenty in the pocket of my jeans, than reaching the summit after a three hour long hike, than completing a kart-wheel in fresh spring grass, than most anything. And I can't help but smile every time she calls me a loser.

I'm sorry.

I can't do this, at least not now.

It's not you. It's me.

 I don't deserve you.

You're just too good for me.

This hurts me more than it hurts you.

I've just let myself fall too far. 

But I really want to be friends.

Friend Whore

You know what really pisses me off? Besides when people mix up simple things like "your" and "you're" and emus. Bad insults. And I'm being totally serious. Note the serious emoticon ->  -.-

See I believe if you're [YOU'RE!] going to insult someone, namely me, then do it well! Here, I'll even give you some examples as to what I would consider a good insult against me.

Idiot: You have a lumpy butt.
Idiot: Your hair looks like you just had sex but not good sex. Like so bad, he faked it.
Idiot: When you talk, I can tolerate your voice. It's when I have to look at you that I suffer.
Idiot: Sometimes, I think I like you but then I remember who I'm thinking about.
Idiot: Your mom is an emu.

Okay that last one isn't really directed towards me but if someone said that, I'd cry. I'd break down and sob little girl tears. And isn't that the main point of insults?

Yes, yes it is.

Now Arch Nemesis, oh Arch Nemesis, he thinks he is extremely clever. But he isn't. And I'm not JUST saying this because I loathe him with a firey passion that would burn a bhut jolokia's tongue. I'm saying this because he really isn't clever. His insults towards me are the insults that Mr. Rogers on crack would use.

Arch Nemesis: You're a whore.
Arch Nemesis: Nobody likes you.
Arch Nemesis: You're intolerable.
Arch Nemesis: You're an idiot AND a moron.

Well...actually I think even Mr. Rogers on crack could come up with some more original put downs. However, Arch Nemesis's latest insult? I don't even understand it.

Arch Nemesis: You're a friend whore.

A FRIEND WHORE?? What...the...no, just no. That's not even good enough to be considered an insult because he then had to elaborate what he meant. Apparently, a friend whore is someone who has randomly adds friends of friends on a certain social networking site and then leeches onto them, sucking their profile like a parasite for anything possible. He didn't even explain it that well. I had to take liberties with his description because he even fails at describing his own lame "insult". He tried to use our mutal friends as an example. We have maybe twenty-something in common. All but four are our classmates we spend every day with together. One of the four I met during a competition. One of them is Bestest. And the final two, well, okay maybe I don't know them but the girl requested me and I felt obligated to request her boyfriend because he's a huge part of her life. I even took the time of my busy schedule to explain this and how does he repay me? Psh, he runs away.

My Kind of Sky

I lose myself in you

Every single time we talk.

Secretly I know you want me too.

And God, I pray it never stops.