Hair (Revision)

I shall drag dead claws
through your scratchy Clean, choke
the carded sounds
you spin at me, scatter
the sore herd bleat begging
to chase my shelter
to the thick forge, bitter
of the ink blown wind shedding
a sooty furnace of strokes.

Strand, I will roar down the hillocks
no splitting/waive over
the stomachs of pages you read
send them scowling, still- half
purchased half eaten gloss-chewed
promises I wouldn't keep
(for sale, with a little knifing).

Grow and grow it will, I will,
and live and scream mercenary knots
from locked fat bottoms rich, sworn
against the threat to
profit you pretty
with every second you sell.

Hair

It shall drag dead claws
through your scratchy clean choke
the straight sounds
you throw at me herd begging
to chase your shelter
from the thick forge, bitter
of the ink blown wind its
sooty furnace of strokes.

Strand, it will roar down the hillocks
no splitting waives over
the stomachs of pages you read
send them scowling, still- half
purchased half eaten gloss chewed
promises I wouldn't keep
(for sale, with a little knifing).

Grow and grow it will I will
and live and scream mercenary knots
from locked fat bottoms rich, sworn
against the threat to
profit you pretty
with every second you sell.

Soul Like Water

My mother sings a fragile song,
A mystery, for anyone else
Who hears but the words.

Broken, they tangle, dive a thousand leagues
To where they truly breathe-
A silvery, ghostly binding,
Beyond to the misty, mistaken core.

Here, they gather, gather
Unsifted, cold, unwanted,
Blue web like the ocean above
Until the waters break to strands.

Battle Cry

Fire and ice, a layer
Long spread on the glass-
A glaze, separated,
Less than complete.

Pull the shields, the silence
From the infinite turns, niches,
The secrets from the tamed-
The war begins noble.

Sit still, and it follows,
Paints a canvas of soot
(Smiling eyes don't see).
Overturn yourself in the night,
And uncover a prowess long set.

Ouch (RANT)

I've been saying that too often in my mind. Why is it that I can't feel true...success anymore? I haven't felt so hopeless in a subject since Algebra II. I thought that feeling would go away once I started thinking...truly thinking for myself. I thought I was turning over a brand new page from all of those nightmare math days of middle school. I guess I am, because....I hate to jinx myself, but math probably isn't my biggest worry right now. I probably failed my test today, but I feel like that's just the tip of the iceberg.

Who knew chemistry would be so hard? I mean, why did I tell myself I'd let myself be a pharmacist in the future if I'd have to see this sort of stuff every day? It's not fun, yet. I say that because I used to say that about math, and now math is fun.

I swear...I don't know what I'm supposed to do with myself anymore.

Perhaps I wouldn't care if I weren't in it so deep already. Perhaps I could just...go back to my middle school self. I was the girl who got B's in math. I seriously only got two A's in math my entire middle school career. I wasn't so competitive and demanding back then. I didn't care if I had two B's. That was fine with me. Perfectly fine.

Now, I demand straight A's, and I've gotten used to it. I even enjoy it, now, even if I need to be a lonely person in order to have such a goal. The world seems to make me soft.

I don't hang out with the most studious people all of the time. They frightened me and made me fear for my own sanity and self. I know I'll never be the smartest person. It wasn't their fault. I just...wasn't that sort of person.

Gosh, I feel like Holden Caulfield. That book hurt me more than it helped me, I think. Before reading it, I just listened to the melodic words and voices that meshed into poetry and whatever else I needed to keep my optimism. Now I hear his stupid, grammatically deficient voice in my head whenever I'm not feeling great about myself. It becomes my voice, and I hate that. What happened to the eloquent self that had existed before then? I can still call little white flowers midnight stars that remained pinned to the ivy when the canvas of night tore away from the empty sky, but those things aren't what my mind drinks anymore. Now it's demands that drown me day in and day out.

I swore to myself I would stay in this and get it done right. It seems all right. It seems okay. I'm competitive, right? I can do IB and get it done well.

The sad thing is, my competitive spirit just died. I'm being pulled down because I'm told that I CAN'T do this, that I'm not able to do this. I'm told that I can't do it right unless I let go of the thing that allows me to succeed. Of course, they don't know that. They pulled the plug on me. There's old water gathering around my toes: the spills that I've prevented for the past three years.

Seriously, IB's fun, but I need my sanity. I need people who are nice, accepting, and yet studious at the same time. I love letting my guard down more than I love being around studious people, but I need someone who will let me let my guard down without pulling other parts of me down as well.

Too bad, though. I'm stubborn as ever. I'll stay in this until I'm on the edge of the cliff. Even then, I'll cling to a tree. It'll be the story of my high school career.

I guess that's the part of IB that I'm missing. I sit at the seminar, and I feel like I don't know anyone around me anymore. There's no family in here. No one even tries to talk to me. They don't have to, but that's the whole point, isn't it? I don't make sense to them. I'm but a shadow in their lives that they step on when they walk, as I step on their shadows swiftly and silently. We're on our way. I'm just walking too fast and using the same road twice before I know what I'm doing. That's the way it's always been.

Is this how they eliminate people? The lone wolf doesn't do well, after all. I don't want to be the first to go, though. I just need...someone. I wish I didn't say that, but then, as Holden would insert, who the hell is reading this anyway?

Fate Is Good

Yesterday, I decided to do some shopping online. I guess I wanted to indulge a little bit on material things before I started saving up money. It's not like I need many things (or anything) anyway. I just had this perfect outfit planned out , and I bought it. It was on sale, so I didn't mind.

Of course, I'm not familiar with online protocol. I make an order, only to find that one of the items I ordered will not be shipped because they had run out while I was in the process of ordering. Seriously?? What kind of store does that? Wouldn't you think that "add to shopping cart" meant that it would be "in your shopping cart" and not in someone else's? It's not like I went off line and left my shopping cart sitting there.

And then I order the two items that are still "in stock", only to find that one of the items had disappeared between the time that I placed my order and the time that my order was processed. That made even less sense. Back to the shopping cart metaphor, that's like someone just snatched something from me AFTER I paid for it. Of course, because it's a credit card order, they didn't technically steal anything. They just gave me my money back.

Sadly, I used someone else's credit card and paid them in cash. I did this before the wonderful customer service told me how very sorry they were in their most recent email.

Why is everything a loose term on the Internet?

Shopping cart- organizational unit for the seller, not the consumer. Especially not when the consumer is a thrifty one. No privacy value in this container, mind. Not even a temporary one.

Order- something similar to the action completed at a cash register. Of course, if someone else had their eyes set on the same thing, it's a free-for-all scramble over which the consumer has no control. No one gets hurt. Someone just has to look like a fool in the end. Yeah, it's going to be fun trying to explain how the order had been processed, but one of the items isn't going to ship. It's going to be fun trying to physically get my money back, wetseal.com. Thanks.

Tracking Number- a complicated string of numbers that allows you to stalk your package as it makes its way to your home. Type one number or letter incorrectly, and your number is just a bit of false reassurance. Adds salt to the wound, doesn't it? You'd think they'd at least give me the right number after all of the "unfortunate" circumstances they put me through.

I think I'm just PMSing. Usually I would find this rational. Usually I wouldn't swear a blue streak (well...comparatively blue), but I did.

You know what? I think I'll go bother their customer service right now about this instead of unloading this FML moment onto my blog audience. It's their fault, not yours.