Midday at Frank's (censored)

Midday at Frank’s

My body is awash in coke’s carbonated syrup bubbles…

So this is the feeling that predominates when one does something questionable.

Yesterday I woke up, singing and dancing in ecstacy,

Ignorance is bliss, and it has a beat.

Today I greeted the sunrise sans a sleepy smile—

I couldn’t get up on my own feet.

Yesterday’s night found me playing like a high school girl,

Underneath your fluorescent light, as oppressive to my eyes as today’s grilled chicken was to my tongue,

My words were charred; the regurgitation of my agitated mind.

I entreated you to a smoothie at the Coop,

A shake down the road at trans fat central,

Grab a cappuccino at the Starbucks fifty miles away,

But elevated levels of sugar in my blood made me blind,

I couldn’t read you.

French fries wouldn’t win you over,

You want enlightenment, but not the buddha’s belly.

All is understood.

When rainbow sherbet is done melting, it leaves a peachy liquid mess in my Edy’s cup.

When I am done melting, I’ll leave a mess, but it won’t be well contained.

I sit, waiting, for the night you’ll tell me something,

And I’ll be able to read you like a menu.

Now I sit in confusion, with my brightly colored fiesta dish ware spread out in front of me like a map,

making smiley faces out of today’s lunch.

Prince + Leopard + Pumps + Sims

Prince is screeching over the radio again,
And I promised myself that this week is going to be different—
Each day will be filled with just as much
Spite, spunk, and sexiness as each one of his seven inch pumps.

And maybe with the new leopard print silk cami,
And a few spells from the pagan in room 103,
I’ll achieve this instantaneous wish,
Which will vanish tomorrow morning when I wake up
And crawl towards my laptop
With its glowing energy consuming
screen, and I lose myself to the Sims.

Because honestly,
I’m not real enough to enjoy plantations of carnations,
Llamas in pajamas,
The gleam of slowly melting ice cream,
Or the design of sunshine,
Bleeding through the oak canopies,
And crash landing on the side walk,
As I jive in my light blue nike soakers
To class across the way.

So maybe it’s best I play with the make-believe,
Because as we speak the quad is a battlefield, bleeding soldiers everywhere,
my dorm room is submerged underwater, and mermaids are offering free strawberry daquiri’s,
And I’ve been unanimously appointed empress of the world.

Ode to a Raven's Feather

This esoteric thing, clinging
Tentatively to blades of grass,
But not to life, which it denies,
And which life denied it always;
This cryptic dark raven’s feather,
Fragile and velvet to the touch,
Like a cheap dress from the nineties,
You, raven’s feather have seen it
Seen it all through your avian,
Your master, though not anymore.

Now you are light and unrestrained,
And in this quest you have succumbed
To this—messy and wild, like the
Idled drawings of a toddler.
How crazed at nature’s mistreatment
A caregiver who cannot care,
You were scared in the long black nights,
Though nothing would try to harm you
Ominous as you are, like death.
The crows laugh at you for you are
A poor lost soul, swimming in Styx.
Free? You may be but do not feel.
Fighting for what never will be,
Negotiation back into
A home, at last, again, once more
But this is a substance free dream
A play written by a demon.
Because you were not made to last.

And as you lie here on the ground
You make to scream but there’s no sound.

Raven's Feather

ENGL 217: Poetry

Raven's Feather

here lies the discarded raven's feather, tossed out
for all purposes useless, like clipped toe nails,
lightly resting on a sea of short grasses,
protected, wavering on a bed of lucky clovers.
sharply, quickly graduated from the purest avian white
to the blackest black as decreed by humanity.

shattered feather shaft, exploded from its raven home.
the wind picked it up to rest here-
mussed and wild, the effects of poor upkeep,
each feather string like a poorly moussed hair.

but this black feather is not desolation's symbol;
here a little black fly walks up, down,
traversing on a journey in its new home.

in this way the breakdown is the preservation,
as the fly lives a day on vacation.

HELLO! I AM A HYPOGLYCEMIC ZOMBIE CRAVING SAUSAGE EGG MCMUFFINS!!

I think I'll start posting more, since college really IS boring. So much free time... *sigh*. Anyway, I'll talk about this (and by this, I mean yesterday's) morning, since it was scary...

HELLO! I AM A HYPOGLYCEMIC ZOMBIE CRAVING SAUSAGE EGG MCMUFFINS!!

If you didn't know, I have diabetes. It is a rather fun illness, in that I get to scare people with my needles. I usually wake up in the morning a little low, meaning I need sugar, right away, or I will eventually slip into a coma, start shaking, and eventually, die. This morning, however, I woke up lower than low, and was sent stumbling out the door to find breakfast. Why I didn't simply buy a coke or a powerade from the vending machines is beyond me. I believe my blood sugar was so incredibly low, that my brain couldn't compute it, and so went about making me do things that I didn't actually want to do.

To save you from a boring account of EVERYTHING I can remember, I will simply state my morning as such: Twenty minutes after getting into my car, I arrived back at the freshmen parking lot with a sausage egg mcmuffin (why sausage? I don't even like sausage!) and a large sprite.

Honestly, I don't remember coming or going, just walking back up the hill, talking to myself (How the hell did I get a sausage egg mcmuffin?! I hate sausage egg mcmuffins! How am I still alive anyway?!), and pondering if perhaps the only reason God keeps me alive is to send me on crazy hypoglycemic quests.