the wave before the world turns red

ride the pms wave
let the emotions flow
give them their venue
frustration
anger
sadness
i'll be sure to project them
on to you
or maybe on to her
what is hormonal
what is exhaustion
what is real
the wave is cresting
inviting
let it pull you
toward the shore

Hope y'all have a good day. I'm ready for a day off already.

good morning

the morning rush.
that last snooze
not necessary
it felt so good
the gym will have to wait.
tomorrow.
definitely tomorrow.

I need to figure out a better way to get my ass out of bed.

capturing time

scan the photographs into the circuitry.
the final way to preserve our past.
how?
who cares. they will be there forever.
a click's distance away.
waiting. waiting. waiting
for the day boredom takes over
or tragedy or anxiety
or any of the myriad emotions that pull us,
distract us.
waiting. waiting. watching
the memory corrupt,
the lines blur.
waiting. waiting. while
new memories crowd in,
forgotten moments ask for recovery.
waiting. waiting. whispering
to each other.
sharing their joys and their boredom and their fears across times.
waiting. waiting. waiting
for the memory keeper
to keep entropy at bay.

I don't have much to say about this. I'm not sure where it came from.

the hair on your face

you seriously have to do something about your eyebrows.

what?

they are so distracting. i'm sitting here. i'm trying to listen to what you have to say, but all i can focus on is EYEBROWS EYEBROWS EYEBROWS.

how are my eyebrows distracting? i don't even notice them.

that's obvious. those things are practically alive, and they are taking over your face. you need to get waxed.

i'm not getting waxed.

well, pluck then.

no. i'm not getting waxed or plucking or shaving. do people even shave their eyebrows?

yes, but you need to figure something out. i don't think i can hang out with you and your two friends. they are almost touching your lashes. in a week or so, you'll be able to braid them together and never blink again.

gross.

that's my point.

dude. i'm not going to ...

shut up with "i'm not going to". it's not an option. personal grooming is very important.

i know it is, but that kind of stuff is optional.

not for you it isn't. it's not like your the only one out there. man-scaping is the new thing. masculine and clean. plus you have great eyes. why hide them behind an ever growing forest of hair?

... thanks?

when was the last time you had a date?

couple of weeks ago.

how did it go?

short.

when was the last time you slept with someone?

uh...

okay. we're going to my waxer. he's quick. relatively painless. though you're a virgin so it might not...

i'm not a

at waxing! anyway. he's great. not too expensive, and if he can't stop your brows from conquering your face, then ... i don't know. i guess the next step is prayer.

i still don't think this is a good idea. i ...

why?

because it's not natural.

you are not a hippie.

no. but

don't be afraid. look you are well kempt with your clothes and hair and all that. you're teetering on full on metrosexual anyway; you might as well match the brows to the style, right?

i guess. will you ... go with me?

honey, i wouldn't miss it. i've never seen real magic before; this might be my only chance.

I think I'm going to go check my brows now. Thanks to KF & RI for the inspiration for this. Quick question: what gender do you think these characters are (if any)?

clues to our thoughts

churning
positive processing
the fat cat stares
not at me

it is late
time for bed
hoping for a quiet brain
dream processes
waking to the new
the past
redone

dancing through the
twirls
looking for that
one
clear
way
even if the oasis lasts
but a moment

Something is processing in my brain.

crazy

She came down the stairs to her father lecturing her brother again on how lazy he was and how he'd never make it anywhere. Couldn't he find anything else to worry about? He never spent that kind of time on her. She was fine. Her grades were high. They (mostly) approved of her friends. Nothing to focus on. If only they would notice her. The waiting was hard. Hoping for the question to be real. "How are you?" She wanted that and feared that. It was almost a guarantee that she would fall apart then; burst like the delicate bubble she really was. It was also almost a guarantee that it would never happen, and she couldn't cry unprovoked. Not now.

"Dad, can't you find something else to do before dinner?"

They would wonder why she would leave. They would wonder why she never seemed to want to come home. She would go through an entire lifetime in the next ten years that all of this school wouldn't prepare her for. Hopefully, she would survive it. Something was there inside, knocking, begging for her attention. Not the time to look directly at it. Just a few more months of listening to it call her. It was just not something she could let out until she was gone. Too risky to let loose here.

I guess this is the sister response to this. The title is about the confusion, a personal feeling. Also, it rhymes.

lazy

He flopped his head onto the sofa cushion. His father could be so annoying. He started counting the dots on the ceiling. Then the drips on the windowsill. Then the number of times Dad said the word "lazy". Mom would call them for dinner in a minute, and it would be a 30 second wrap up of how he wasn't using his full potential. Then dinner. If he could wolf down his plate before Mom noticed enough to caution, "Slow down," he bet he could be back in his room in 20 minutes. Lock the door, turn up the music on his Ipod, and lay perfectly still. They'd leave him alone. Probably sighing their parental confusion-disappointment. Where had they gone wrong? It was when they forgot that children don't want to be their parents. At least not until they become them. They just didn't understand. Old and out of it. If they only knew what he was going through, they'd leave him alone. They didn't care though. WAY to wrapped up in their own plans for him. Dad had reached 25 lazy's. And there was Mom. He should start setting his watch to this. Here's the big finish.

"You could learn a thing or two from your sister. She has drive. She has passion. A future."

He knew that. He also knew that she was lucky. Or blessed. Everything was clear for her, only a matter of stepping on that road and keeping one foot in front of the other. If only he could have just a little bit of that. Life would be so much easier.

I wrote most of this looking at the ceiling. Mine has no dots to count.