Shut Up Patti

I thought about why my writing is in such a dry spell. I didn't come up with much, other than my mouth being dry. Which is completely unrelated. I might need a beverage and some chapstick.

The older I get, the more I realize how much people suck. Including me.

And I watch way too much Bravo. Because at least one out of two people on that channel are always gay. And it somehow makes me feel as if I'm less of an outcast.

Typing while tired should be more illegal than driving while drunk.

Reasons I go on OK Cupid

To judge
To be judged
To laugh
To regret
To mock
To wait
To write
To read
To cringe
To sleep

To smirk at people I don't know
To stare at people I do know
To think of what's here
To wish on what's not
To believe in true love
To ignore random fucks
To ridicule weird profile names
To pacify new lover's game

To toss
To turn
To teach
To learn

Ok Cupid.
I get it.

Dear Doubt

Leave.

Take your heavy burden
And endless loads
Take your crooked trails
And bumpy roads

Take your belittled ego
And mistaken reasons
Take your endless winters
And sunless seasons

Find the optimistic times
In a setting sun
Find the new motivation
In the second race to run

Find the hidden power
In the strength of defeat
Find the newest courage
In the walk of retreat

Create a new foundation
In more than hollow ground
Create the sternest solace
In times with none around

Create a rare meaning
For what some could call doubt
Create a fresh perspective
For living life without

3 Hours and Light-years Away

I built a bridge, hoping you would
Burn it before I crossed it.
Ashes to ashes, dust
To dust.
I'm glad I could count on you
For something.

You give me acid reflux

I got a moment of courage
Or weakness, depending
On what those ten digits meant
And like your fingers
My stomach rejected the call
And I'm not sure what makes
Me feel worse
That you don't care
Or that I still do
Either way, I'll swallow a few Tums
And hope that calcium
Makes swallowing
My pride a little bit easier too

July 15th

I was never told intestinal tracts are made of shoelaces
But I think they might be
And I think my fingers may reach right through my belly button
And knot those intestinal laces when I see you
And then my headstrings and heartstrings gather to laugh at me
Because you don't feel that way

And never will.

random scribbles

I made you crazy
Because I was that much crazier
And you had to go
Before it was your time to come

But I don't regret doing
Regretful things
Because it made you think
Even if those thoughts
Were suicidal

And I made you write
About someone else

But I made you write, nonetheless