tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55924183904905864892024-02-19T02:43:45.136-08:00oh to be free.sarah marie.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17560933381673342291noreply@blogger.comBlogger37125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5592418390490586489.post-55088934839269037962016-07-12T20:23:00.002-07:002016-07-12T20:23:39.684-07:00The Both of Them Boys Can't Quit<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Ya might as well just leave me the fuck alone<br />
I don't need your<br />
I don't want your<br />
I don't like your<br />
So just quit.<br />
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<br /></div>
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sarah marie.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17560933381673342291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5592418390490586489.post-35024050573673147802016-04-20T20:35:00.000-07:002016-07-12T20:36:39.578-07:00are you sure it's not love<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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are you sure it's not love<br />when he's pumping inside me<br />when I come on his cock<br />are you sure it's not love?</div>
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cause my body deceives me<br />in the waves of my pleasure<br />she is screaming to me<br />this is love, this is love.</div>
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are you sure it's not love?<br />when we collapse together<br />our sweat intermingles<br />my hands in his hair</div>
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and our hearts beat together<br />now we need one another<br />forever united<br />are you sure it's not love?</div>
</div>
sarah marie.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17560933381673342291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5592418390490586489.post-26842752840396775462016-04-12T20:37:00.000-07:002016-07-12T20:37:58.437-07:00god...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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DAMN YOU mockingbird.<br />The fucking demon is back again<br />While I'm trying to sleep!</div>
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Trying to innocently<br />Peace here and your<br />nasty<br />stuttersong</div>
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Full to spilling over with mental disease<br />Teeming with schizomania and psychonarcissism</div>
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My fucking skin crawls<br />And I try to feel my heart</div>
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Beating hard under phantom ticks in my palm or on my chest</div>
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I hate the way you steal the night</div>
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Just out of sight<br />Of my uncle's shotgun.</div>
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Motherfuckingfucker.</div>
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Time to drag out the white noise.</div>
</div>
sarah marie.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17560933381673342291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5592418390490586489.post-10462987262495962612016-04-06T20:39:00.000-07:002016-07-12T20:40:04.782-07:00Mockingbird How could you<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Mockingbird<br />How could you</div>
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Sneak into my night<br />Under the guise of an innocent one<br />Just faded childhood memories</div>
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Disguised for a time as solace</div>
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Till you tire and<br />Cave.</div>
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Repetition falls to<br />Nightmare<br />You are mocking my black pain</div>
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Stuttersteps fall from your branch<br />Laced with nights next to him in this bed</div>
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The book open<br />His glasses on<br />It's his favorite story and<br />He is sharing it with me</div>
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My first time.</div>
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As you fucking forget common decency<br />Such as not ripping my heart out from your treetop stage tonight<br />He could be shooting anything in his veins</div>
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And how would I even know to attend his funeral?</div>
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Sing away you fuckwit<br />Careless<br />Cruel</div>
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What could it matter my heart lies pumping its last red onto the floor</div>
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You're a demon in the dark<br />And they call you<br />The innocent.</div>
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I'd kill you<br />Bastard<br />If it meant</div>
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Keeping dreams and hopes</div>
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alive.</div>
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sarah marie.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17560933381673342291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5592418390490586489.post-7600304713910894122016-03-12T20:30:00.000-08:002016-07-12T20:31:57.007-07:00springtime and the promise of an open fist.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Merciful mosquito<br />Peeper in the night rides the trainhorn to my bed<br />Huddled undercover<br />Fuck that heater<br />Daffodilio<br />My accessory<br />I am so delighted I burst into<br />Raucous laughter</div>
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All I know<br />I go to work with the sunrise</div>
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And isn't hope what the fuck I'm here for?</div>
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(A<br />Men.)</div>
</div>
sarah marie.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17560933381673342291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5592418390490586489.post-9659114143194562262016-03-01T20:26:00.000-08:002016-07-12T20:27:08.122-07:00Where I'm From<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Template from George Ella Lyons<br />
<br />
<br />
I am from shallow creek beds<br />
from snakes in the grass<br />
and snappin' turtles<br />
Won't let go til lightnin' strikes<br />
I am from down in the valley<br />
On Pine Valley Drive<br />
Named by my father<br />
<br />
And the inground pool, chosen over air conditioning when my parents sold the sailboat.<br />
<br />
It felt like night coming on and settling between pine branches<br />
It felt like heavy sobs<br />
In trouble again and<br />
Dad hits hard<br />
<br />
It felt like recurring nightmares<br />
That Catholic conscience wouldn't let me sleep<br />
Felt like my sisters in the woods<br />
The only place I wanted to be<br />
<br />
I am from the garden<br />
the sunflowers and little cherry tomatoes<br />
Mom let us keep a plot<br />
With a pinwheel<br />
We would neglect to tend it<br />
Weeds and dried out soil<br />
<br />
I’m from the wintertrips to Florida<br />
and odd sense of humor<br />
from Anna Mae<br />
and Marcella<br />
and Bud, before suicide<br />
<br />
I’m from the Miller good looks (we don't make ugly children)<br />
and Catholic Republicans<br />
From Whippoorwills that eat little girls<br />
And I'll give you something to cry about<br />
I'm from Saturday mass in the balcony courtesy Dad's social anxiety,<br />
And God told me to knock the shit out of you the next time you don't say your prayers at dinner.<br />
<br />
I’m from Germany, Germany, Germany, wieners and whiskey.<br />
From the wooden leg of uncle so.and.so<br />
the drugged and raped by their father at night.<br />
<br />
Miller family reunions at the campgrounds in Ironton.<br />
I am from rusted cobweb memories which are many better staying put. From the woods I came and to the woods alone I belong.<br />
I am mother nature's child and hers alone.<br />
I am.<br />
<br />
<br />
Sarah Marie Miller<br />
Berea, Ky<br />
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<br /></div>
</div>
sarah marie.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17560933381673342291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5592418390490586489.post-45254508037171420542016-01-24T20:33:00.000-08:002016-07-12T20:33:54.861-07:00now.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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and it was so sta-range<br />how you whirled the sound<br />the rushing sound<br />blood swirls<br />my brain<br />you speak in Reverse<br />counterclock the whirl<br />while time is stopped<br />for me<br />for me</div>
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my hand rests in yours<br />it's like first kiss<br />I don't want to move<br />I don't move to speak<br />want to tell you stop<br />saying over and over<br />how you can't be here<br />brother, you are here</div>
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as am i, breath held<br />to leave spell intact</div>
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and we linger on<br />do you dare to go?<br />do you dare to stay?<br />We deny ourselves<br />my heart and veins scream out<br />swirl their needy madness<br />rushing stops<br />my head on your heart<br />squeezing you so tight<br />telling myself not too tight</div>
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and you go.</div>
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Peel our energy off and escape<br />through the back</div>
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the downy fluff of my cat<br />carries<br />rose oil and unnameable you</div>
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we are together there.</div>
</div>
sarah marie.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17560933381673342291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5592418390490586489.post-45123015651866515052015-12-31T19:32:00.005-08:002015-12-31T19:32:58.059-08:00happy freaking new year<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
new year, new you.<br />
<br />
same as it ever was.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
(but who's to say<br />
who's to say i need any more than this.<br />
these cats they love me<br />
i mean really<br />
really love me<br />
and god knows you couldn't<br />
<br />
god knows no one will<br />
until i love myself.)</div>
sarah marie.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17560933381673342291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5592418390490586489.post-31826433332351766192013-12-27T18:59:00.001-08:002013-12-27T18:59:07.125-08:00love, Lexington.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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we are growing up together</div>
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we are creating one another</div>
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we are every abandoned building</div>
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circle splash streetlight</div>
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naive dream</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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we lie in the road together</div>
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horse fields surround</div>
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downtown at the horizon</div>
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we hold hands and laugh red into night sky</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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we share dearest friends</div>
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lovers</div>
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ex-lovers</div>
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apartments</div>
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space and time</div>
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beds and saliva</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.399999618530273px; line-height: 20px;">
we walk dogs in pairs to the park</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.399999618530273px; line-height: 20px;">
in fresh snow</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.399999618530273px; line-height: 20px;">
to leave our angels in white shadow </div>
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backlit naked trees</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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we fight with passion</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.399999618530273px; line-height: 20px;">
call it off</div>
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pack up and move away</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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no matter, no mind</div>
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the Vortex brings us home</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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we find heartchips in the eyes of old dear friends</div>
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we sway to our rhythmic same same hearts</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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we strip and run screaming into backyard summer monsoon</div>
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the moon lights our eyes</div>
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we are light as feathers</div>
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we are free as birds</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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we knock on doors late, late, late</div>
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we are welcomed </div>
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our vices at hand</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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we fly high holding onto eachother's dreams </div>
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we collaborate to create</div>
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dreams alive</div>
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we get it</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.399999618530273px; line-height: 20px;">
together</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.399999618530273px; line-height: 20px;">
we are </div>
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we are a cycle</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.399999618530273px; line-height: 20px;">
a spiral of outward growing healing</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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we are</div>
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never answering our phones</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.399999618530273px; line-height: 20px;">
we are</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.399999618530273px; line-height: 20px;">
found in the streets we are</div>
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never really at goodbye</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.399999618530273px; line-height: 20px;">
<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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we are family.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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forever gratitude, Lexington.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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i am you</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.399999618530273px; line-height: 20px;">
you are me</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.399999618530273px; line-height: 20px;">
we are one.</div>
</div>
sarah marie.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17560933381673342291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5592418390490586489.post-63989401742673006042013-04-23T16:00:00.002-07:002013-04-23T19:34:24.450-07:00summer 2005.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
i had totaled my car and i needed a ride home from the drawing class i worked as a model for. you were the professor. you offered to take me home. i said yes. you offered to take me to pazzo's pizza before taking me home, and i agreed. you ordered a pitcher of beer. i thought that was cool because i'd never had beer in a restaurant before. i was 19.<br />
you said you felt it your job to protect the models from 'looky-loo's,' men who tried to sneak peeks of the naked girls when they weren't even in the class. i felt safe with you. you were funny too. you offered to burn me a CD of music from a band whose song i'd played during a class you were monitoring for. i said ok, and you took me to your shitty university-provided apartment, to burn it for me.<br />
<br />
you offered me a beer from your fridge. i was sitting on your couch in this tiny one room apartment. the couch also functioned as your bed. i see the CD on the table with your messy handwriting on it. i see your big white computer monitor across the room on a table.<br />
<br />
<br />
then i black out.<br />
<br />
then i woke up. you were on top of me, you were kissing me. then i realized your fingers were inside of me.<br />
<br />
i was panicked. like WTF. i was never attracted to you. not even a little. i just wanted to get a ride home. you were nice and bought me beer. you had music i liked so that was cool. and wtf why am i asleep and why are you inside me.<br />
<br />
those thoughts raced through, next second i am running with my cell phone out of your apartment down the block to the end of the complex. i hide behind a dumpster and dial all of my friends to come get me. nobody will answer. i am waiting out there for hours. finally an acquaintance whose number i had comes to get me. once he arrives i feel safe enough to run inside and grab my guitar - my most prized possession, and leave.<br />
<br />
you called me several times after that. i was too mortified to speak. even when i finally answered, and you asked 'what did i do?'<br />
<br />
i was too mortified to speak.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
when i told ross zirkle, the head of drawing classes, that i could no longer model for any session you would be in, he understood. he said you would never again be in the same room as me while i was modeling nude.<br />
<br />
i couldn't stand the thought of you<br />
A) being in the same room as me and<br />
B) having the privilege of seeing my naked body.<br />
<br />
<br />
i didn't tell him what happened. i was too mortified to speak.<br />
<br />
a year later ross got sick with cancer. he'd been teaching a woodblock printing class i was taking in the summer. i heard you were going to be the substitute for the rest of the year. the hell if i would be in your class. be in the same room as you. your disgusting demented drawings depicting yourself in portrait, the twisted garish features, with beautiful busty young women, had haunted me all summer already.<br />
<br />
i went to ben withers, chair of the art department. i told him i could never be in the same room as you. i don't remember what i said, but i know i didn't make anything up to cover the truth. i didn't tell him what you did to me. i was too mortified to speak the truth.<br />
<br />
<br />
it stayed under my conscious like a cancer for eight years. for a short time after it happened, it bobbed its nasty head when i would see you around the building. i was terrified of you. eventually i told a few friends what you did to me. i said you tried. to rape me. in my mind that was all it was. an attempted rape. if i hadn't woken up of course you'dve gotten your dick in me. i woke up just in the nick of time. what the hell were you doing trying to get with me while i was asleep anyhow... and why the hell was i asleep?<br />
<br />
<br />
i didn't even think these questions until years later. years and years and years later they came to focus under a microscope that had been building in my brain through eight more summers, eight winters, eight springs and eight falls.<br />
<br />
then jerielle sat at my kitchen table. lamenting that she saw you out at a gallery hop. 'he disgusts me,' she said.<br />
<br />
and i remembered then. i remembered why you disgust me, too.<br />
<br />
because you are disgusting. you are a fucking creep. you god damn fucking raped me. i'm old enough now to know better. rape is any kind of unwanted sexual contact. just because you didn't get your dick in me (i woke up too fucking soon) does not mean you're not a rapist.<br />
<br />
you are a fucking rapist.<br />
you are a fucking rapist.<br />
you're a fucking rapist and i'm taking your ass down.<br />
<br />
<br />
you better thank your stars i'm not a violent person. i'd have to slowly macerate you, chop you bit by bit and keep you alive as long as i could.<br />
just to show you what you've done to me. just to demonstrate the monstrosity.<br />
<br />
because you're walking around this earth like you're just fine. like it doesn't matter, like it was my fault, like i fucking WANTED IT YOU TOLD THE POLICE you fucking liar. you fucking liar.<br />
<br />
i may have been blacked out. completely. but it doesn't take a genius to figure out that this beautiful young ambitious apparently-too-polite girl who should have never given you to the time of the god damn day, would never EVER get down with a boy like you. you were too ugly. i'm not sorry. that's the god damned truth. you were too ugly and too old for me, but mostly just too ugly.<br />
<br />
and now you're a fucking rapist. too. god what a winner. your girlfriend, your former student? fuck i wish she could know. when i'm done with this, she will. everyone will know. you're a fucking rapist and you raped me. it was not my fault. what the fuck did you do to me anyway? you HAD to have used a drug in that drink. there was no knot on my head the next day, no signs of battery.<br />
<br />
<br />
you MUST have put something in that drink.<br />
</div>
sarah marie.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17560933381673342291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5592418390490586489.post-26886058131879375012013-04-20T20:34:00.000-07:002013-04-20T20:34:05.190-07:00dead man walking.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
mother fucker you better watch your back. mother fucker i am taking you down. i am taking you out. it's the end for you.<br />
<br />
enjoy these last days of freedom. dead man fucking walking.<br />
<br />
<br />
they will know the truth. you are a fucking rapist. you are a fucking sicko. you are a fucking creep and you are going down.</div>
sarah marie.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17560933381673342291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5592418390490586489.post-48041187780360412012013-02-18T16:28:00.000-08:002013-02-18T16:37:30.367-08:00plastics make it possible. 9.15.2010.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Plastics make it
possible.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My art. My camera, the
plastic film reel, the chemical coated plastic film, the cancer creating
chemicals I use in the darkroom, the CD I have my photos burned to for upload
onto internet from a plastic computer, the notebook I write in with plastic pen
on recycled paper with plastic coated cover, tape I have put over it to keep it
from falling apart. The handle of my paintbrush. The container of my
watercolors. My digitized documented art files. A premature baby’s heart
monitor. My refrigerator. My grandmother’s heart. The heater for my home. My
cell phone, my iPod, my toilet, my shower. The sticky back of my pantyliner.
The wrapping on my tampon. The packaging of my medicine. The cap on the bottles
of essential oil I occasionally use for deodorant. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The 1000 to one ratio
of plastic pieces to plankton floating in the ocean. Women who cannot have a
successful pregnancy, but continually miscarry. Countless diseases striking
those in Honolulu. A plastic island floating in the Pacific twice the size of
Texas, 8 times larger than Italy. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Last night I answered
my phone in the middle of my meditation, my sea soaking my rain pouring singing
crying sobbing into the sea. It started pouring even harder and I decided I had
to leave, let alone get off the telephone which was getting soaked. I shook off
my notebook with its tape-covered edges, put there to protect it from damage,
and my favorite pen I’d clipped to it flew into the sea. I lit up the
flashlight on my cell phone and tried to search for it in the pouring rain, on slime
covered craters, to no avail. I littered in the sea without even trying. Simply
because my materials are harmful and I am occasionally not all of mind.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today for the first
time I set out to clean up the sea, alone. In telling a friend about it I got teary
eyed again… thinking of the night before and my plastic mascara covered tears
falling into the sea. I only had one plastic bag as I have used the rest for
garbage bags, and don’t go shopping often, but it was a very large grocery bag
and I knew I would find more on the way. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I stopped at the
closest place on my way back across the island, the beach, near the fountain
with fresh spring water and ducks and rats floating in it. I thought I was
going to have to hop a fence, as the seaside was busted up exposing
pipelines running under the sand and
sidewalk, but I found a hole cut into it by locals who want to swim in their
own shit and trash and the oil of the boats in the bay. At first I thought wow it’s not so bad here,
as I picked up countless cigarette packages and the Styrofoam containers
fishermen use for bait. I was nearly blinded, had an eye only for the garbage
until my gloved finger squished into something smelly. I noticed another creepy man watching me from the fence. I gave him a ‘What
the hell are you looking at?’ look and continued my work. After a few minutes I
noticed he was still casually leaning against the fence just staring at me. I yelled in Italian ‘Are you going to help me or watch?’ and he came to help. I
handed him a glove, the plastic ones they offer customers at the grocery store
for picking up their vegetables to place in plastic bags, tie up and then place
in plastic grocery bags (ridiculous) and we talked a bit while I picked up
trash and he stood there, occasionally picking up a plastic bottle and placing
it in my bag. He said ‘You’re not Italian are you? Because the Italians would
never do this.’ He was Tunisian and had come here for work. I told him in Italian about the plastic
island. He couldn’t imagine it. I don’t blame him, as I can't really either. I can’t imagine something the size of Ortigia
made of plastic, let alone Sicilia, let alone Italy… let alone eight times that
big.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We finished at the
beach, filling the plastic bag full in only ten minutes. I dumped the contents into a nearby dumpster
and got ready to reuse the bag. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I told him I had to
cleanup elsewhere, and he said he’d accompany me. I said it was a pity I didn’t
have another bag for him but was sure we would find one. On the walk to the
other side of the island, we did, stuck into a fence right above the sea by a
fisherman who had used it for bread thrown to attract the fishes. We arrived at
the scala, ladder, where I have climbed down the 40 foot wall of the island and
swum until recent days, when the water is too disgusting, lined with garbage
and a train of scum floating in and out with the waves. I dropped my bag on the sidewalk, half full
again with trash found on the walk here, raised my skirt and climbed over the
railing. Once on the other side, I told him to hand me my bag. He did, and
then stood there incredulous, watching me hanging off a ladder meters above
rocks and sea. He said I thought you were crazy when I first saw you picking up
trash but now I know that you are. <span lang="IT">I said <i>Certo, io sono
pazza ed anche tu. E se non vuoi ad aiutarmi, dammi la busta</i>. </span><i>Ciao. </i>Sure, I’m crazy and so are you. And if you don’t want to help me, give me your bag. Bye.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The night before on
the rocks I had seen three crates, two I knew were made of Styrofoam, because I
watched them floating on the waves. One stayed stuck in between the rock
barrier and the wall of the island, and the other I watched float out onto the
horizon. The last was sitting on the rocks, and I vowed to get it the next day,
thinking it was another wooden crate from the market. It wasn’t. it was
Styrofoam as well and thank god, still intact. Unfortunately there were many
other Styrofoam crates here at one point and now they were millions of tiny
Styrofoam bubbles floating around trapped in the crater rocks, little rivers
flowing away back to the sea, waiting for a big wave to wash them back out
again. They are left here by the fisherman who buy their bait in Styrofoam
containers and leave the plastic wrapping and everything, right where it lay.
Killing their own catch.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I stood incredulous
this time, with my hands disgustingly dirty, my glove full of salt, seawater
and sweat, my fingers encrusted with dirt and trash juice all over my arms, and
tried to readjust my sunglasses and keep them from falling into the sea. I was holding a bag overflowing with Styrofoam
pieces and they kept sticking to my fingers and falling out of the bag, and I
wanted to cry. I felt helpless. I looked up to see a man watching me from the
bridge. He waved and gave me a thumbs up sign while talking on his cell phone.
<i>Aiutami</i>! I cried. <i>Vieni</i>! Help me! Come! And he waved that he couldn’t hear me,
and he had to go eat. After a while he got off the phone and came to speak to
me, and said ‘<i>Il mare ha portato la
spazzatura</i>.’ The sea has brought all the trash here. And I said ‘<i>No, siamo tu ed io che l’abbiamo portato. </i><i><span lang="IT">Non è del mare, è di noi.’ </span></i><span lang="IT">You and I have
brought it. </span>It does not come from
the sea. It is from us. He said ‘Yes, and everyone else.’ I told him I would be
here every day. He said he would return.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It took three trips up
the ladder to carry everything and I had to be strategic about it because there
was a tire from a vespa which was heavy and awkward and the Styrofoam crate was
large and I had to put it on the rungs above me and then climb with my two
hands free. The other side of the rocks
had no garbage because the waves kept washing it back into the sea. This was
worse. A rock wall empty of garbage, knowing it is all at the bottom of the sea
and floating around in the bellies of the fish. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The waves rhythmically
lashed against the tiny sidewalk there, a foot above sealevel, and threatened
to carry me out with them, I was a little afraid every time, after the night I
was here with Ciccio and we almost got washed out to sea when the wave came over our heads to
crash against the wall of the island, and pulled my shoes off my feet.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
sarah marie.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17560933381673342291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5592418390490586489.post-28835912866136329422013-02-18T16:21:00.000-08:002013-02-18T16:21:19.712-08:00and someday<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
we will all meet our death<br />
<br />
if we're lucky it won't be racked with violence.<br />
if we're lucky.<br />
if we're lucky we won't suffer long. it won't be at the hands of another. it won't be tragic, trauma, sudden, crash bang powerful bleeding painful screams.<br />
<br />
if we're lucky it will be in our sleep. or at our own hands. if we're lucky.</div>
sarah marie.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17560933381673342291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5592418390490586489.post-34880421799501670622013-01-20T09:47:00.000-08:002013-01-20T09:47:13.956-08:001/10/13<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
white seagull ankle tattoo. twinzy tattoos with my baby sister and niece.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
yesterday elise said 'I want Pop to take me in a helicopter and a jet and a ____ (some airplane I don't know). I want him to take me on both those.'<br />
Katie said well, you'll have to wait a bit because Pop can't fly right now. Not until he's well again. You have to be in tip-top shape before they'll let you fly and Pop's kind of sick right now.'<br />
<br />
Elise thinks for a minute.<br />
'Well, I promise I'm going to drink alot of water and eat all the healthy foods, and when I grow up I promise, I PROMISE, Pop, I won't be sick and then I'll take him flying.'<br />
<br />
<br />
(on peeing in the ocean) - 'are you sure about this, Mommy?'<br />
<br />
(points to our seagull burial of the day before) 'Hawah, do you think that's a sandcastle?'<br />
Me - 'No.'<br />
Elise - 'Yeah, cause it's the birdy under there that we buried. And you said, Hawah, that it was going up to healthy but it's still there.'<br />
Me - 'Healthy? You mean heaven?'<br />
She nods.<br />
I explain to her that the bird is not really there anymore even though its body is. It has gone up to heaven, which really means that it is now part of everything. She said so when I die I will be part of everything too? I say yes.<br />
<br />
<br />
'Mommy, come here and sit down. We need to have a talk. Why are you always yellin' at me?'<br />
<br />
<br />
'My heart is boken cause we're not at the beach. It's baking, my heart is baking. We have to go back to the beach.'<br />
<br />
(on the phone yesterday, she pauses for a bit and I hear some sounds far off ) 'I can't see you Hawah.'<br />
<br />
'That's because I'm at my house and you're at your house and they're far apart.'<br />
<br />
'I miss you Hawah.'<br />
'I miss you too. But I'll see you soon.'<br />
'Really?'</div>
sarah marie.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17560933381673342291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5592418390490586489.post-4970442062862924952013-01-20T09:39:00.001-08:002013-01-20T09:39:50.259-08:00high in florida.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
1/7?/13 . Sunday night in FL w/Katie and Elise.<br />
<br />
Katie paying my way to Florida cause it's the only way she could get me to go with her.<br />
<br />
The ocean and the sea are so very different - nothing alike.<br />
<br />
Underwater with the light on in the hot pool I can see scars decades old - on my shin where I tried to be superwoman with my sister and her friend Corin McCray in the creek and I dropped the huge slab of slate from over me 48 pound 8 year old head onto my shin and just knicked it - pouring blood into the cold bubbling creek as sister and friend splashed away at the wound. an attempt to thwart a trip with a sobbing baby sister back to the house, where mother would be waiting.<br />
<br />
the ocean storm breeze rattles palm fronds and they skitter and squeak like a vibraphone or a xylophone.<br />
<br />
a black rounded mountain monster slowly rises into the sky, sweeping over blacking out the ribbons of grey silk frozen there in mid-ruffle.<br />
<br />
the storm moves ever gently on. i am warm outside and i am nearly nude. and wet.<br />
<br />
the sky's enveloped in misty charcoal soup.<br />
<br />
<br />
not a soul on the beach as i break my gaze from the black horizon and burst into sprint across the shore. the drum beats steady to my right and in my chest, my fists are pumping and i'm going for distance. i'll never tire at this rate. i could sprint right down the coast, around the tip and stop only when my nude toes froze in the tundra of Iceland.</div>
sarah marie.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17560933381673342291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5592418390490586489.post-61790742863537751862012-12-11T11:43:00.000-08:002012-12-11T11:43:02.638-08:00Family secrets.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Mom leaving in the middle of the night age 16 - with car full of her shit. Working her way through nursing school and supporting herself while dating my dad. They married when she graduate nursing school. She was 20. He was 22.<br />
<br />
She gave me this little metal pot and it was my only after Spain. Has been for 2 1/2 years. Lightweight and dinted, a tad rusty from the years. It's the first pot she ever bought herself. It cooked her teen belly meals in her own apartment. At age sixteen. In the fucking seventies. </div>
sarah marie.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17560933381673342291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5592418390490586489.post-75817355775937267822012-12-11T10:57:00.000-08:002012-12-11T10:57:41.792-08:0010 days and counting<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Ten days til the end of the world. It oughta hurry up and get to ending. The entire world is a whole lot to deal with if you're talking about shutting down. I'm sure a process like that could technically take years.<br />
<br />
And still.<br />
All it could ever be is the end of what we know, modern society, capitalism, consumerism... fuck, it could even be the end of civilization. But none of that qualifies for 'end of world' status. Just as with the dinosaurs, she always bounces back beautifully.<br />
I'm not worried about the world.<br />
<br />
And you can try and save yourself.<br />
<br />
Me, I'd be content to go down hand in hand with the ones I love. I'd be content with that.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I mean, none of us are getting out of here alive.</div>
sarah marie.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17560933381673342291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5592418390490586489.post-37159240590473865152012-11-27T11:47:00.000-08:002014-01-04T21:25:31.636-08:00doe on a funeral pyre.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
wasn't it lovely? wasn't it a propos?<br />
the doe on the wood pyre, waiting for salvation.<br />
the spent placenta on the ground, the freshly depleted sac and the swarm of insects, thick.<br />
the entrails in the corn field, plowed straight to the bone.<br />
littered with the fragmented remains of a late harvest.<br />
the death of the wild and the innocent.<br />
<br />
the death of you and me.<br />
<br />
funeral pyre for a wild wild doe.<br />
<br />
she died giving birth and her baby is nowhere in sight.<br />
<br />
the crimson of the naked corn cob flesh. flecks of gold, its last hurrah. the last hard useless plastic seeds.<br />
nearly all the corn grown in the US is inedible as-is. is this that useless corn?<br />
<br />
<br />
what the hell kind of place is this anyway?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYKU8JVyWThAIubGgSVn1Vg6tG39lYCnuOyesbaiGK5tgU_-I7nAOWcW27sijZGhDwAOiR7XTdVLDOut6jcoEpWfmFfYj483oU9srxk7DBrzj_xNRMPxd2B7HUskX4mF8z1DRGbXS7uXGd/s1600/dead+doe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYKU8JVyWThAIubGgSVn1Vg6tG39lYCnuOyesbaiGK5tgU_-I7nAOWcW27sijZGhDwAOiR7XTdVLDOut6jcoEpWfmFfYj483oU9srxk7DBrzj_xNRMPxd2B7HUskX4mF8z1DRGbXS7uXGd/s1600/dead+doe.jpg" /></a></div>
</div>
sarah marie.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17560933381673342291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5592418390490586489.post-40365184600551504442012-11-25T19:18:00.002-08:002012-11-25T19:18:21.862-08:00desperate single lady.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
oh they say he's just a pansy <div>
just an anti-social flake<div>
what's a girl like me got business with a guy like him?</div>
<div>
what's a girl like me think she's gonna get?</div>
<div>
you know he's got a dick so he is one, that ain't NEVER gonna change</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
-ah, you were hoping he'd just fall in love, just be the one. just die in your arms tonite?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
-it could happen, sister. i've seen its start. there's such a spark...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
-yes, but he's scared. and you've got a nasty habit of being an anti-antidote when men are scared of love.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
-me- 'oh, do i? dammit sissy, why you always gotta go straight for the weak? kick 'em when they're down, that's your motto, ain't it now? i bet ya think i'm no motha' fuckin' shakespeare neither, don't cha?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
(ah, but it wasn't shakespeare who had a god damned thing on her.</div>
<div>
it was only herself who held her back.</div>
<div>
true happiness, true peace</div>
<div>
lie right inside her small heart.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
whole, just as it is today.)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
sarah marie.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17560933381673342291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5592418390490586489.post-7061500403262877692012-11-25T19:12:00.003-08:002012-11-25T19:12:40.309-08:00cold sweat.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
the cold in me<br />
the sweating constant cold<br />
perpetual cycle<br />
the gleam<br />
the shine<br />
it's brought to light<br />
my salty skin<br />
it's cold and oh that wind just a blows<br />
clippety clap snippety snap<br />
<br />
<br />
i am in bed under too many damn covers<br />
in too much damn clothes<br />
but in my childhood bedroom<br />
in my parent's house<br />
<br />
i'm awake in the middle of the night<br />
trying trying<br />
my skin is just crying<br />
but when i move the cold air on my skin<br />
turns my clipped leg hairs to spines of danger death.<br />
<br />
goosebumps and sweat<br />
and its been like this all night<br />
<br />
how's a lady to get sleep in this skin?<br />
how am i and just how might you, sir...<br />
what the fuck am i to do with this?<br />
<br />
she shakes it in his face<br />
flesh bulging between her fingers, sweat dripping between the boards in the floor.<br />
<br />
her face is red<br />
but they shake their heads and carry on<br />
they know it's all a show.<br />
<br />
sissy's at it again.</div>
sarah marie.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17560933381673342291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5592418390490586489.post-22212985330022254912012-11-25T19:04:00.002-08:002012-11-25T19:04:40.027-08:00SEX CHANGES EVERYTHING<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.909090995788574px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
'sex changes everything'</div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.909090995788574px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.909090995788574px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
but it turns it into everything else.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.909090995788574px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
god i've been here before but not with you.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.909090995788574px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
in the dark of the park you wander aimlessly away from me at a 45° angle</div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.909090995788574px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
and i yell after you but i am yelling at jason</div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.909090995788574px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
'why do you always do that!?'</div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.909090995788574px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
and to the stars</div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.909090995788574px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
'ì thought we were hanging out'</div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.909090995788574px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
and i find a place behind a tree and i want to throw a rock at you</div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.909090995788574px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
and make your head bleed.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.909090995788574px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.909090995788574px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
i sit and watch the stars and contemplate getting up and running home</div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.909090995788574px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
making you worry</div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.909090995788574px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
and feel bad for being an asshole</div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.909090995788574px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.909090995788574px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
but you come back</div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.909090995788574px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
i hit you a few times</div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.909090995788574px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
and we walk on in silence.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.909090995788574px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.909090995788574px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.909090995788574px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.909090995788574px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
she walks without looking back until she gets home and realizes she's left him behind intentionally and feels both fueled and hurt by her own gross emotions, her own drama.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.909090995788574px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.909090995788574px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.909090995788574px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
the tightness is back and it was first there in her chest</div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.909090995788574px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
when she and the other man fucked</div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.909090995788574px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
and stayed together</div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.909090995788574px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
and killed themselves</div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.909090995788574px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
and killed eachother.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.909090995788574px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.909090995788574px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.909090995788574px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px;">
i am not sad i am not sad i am not sad</div>
</div>
sarah marie.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17560933381673342291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5592418390490586489.post-53270810896312675522012-09-25T10:57:00.004-07:002012-09-25T10:57:58.192-07:00fall 2010. coffee breath smile.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
lexington is a big white coffee breath smile<br />
brewing companies by the icehouse<br />
so many other gal's memories in ma head<br />
(you pass through places and places pass through you butcha carry 'em with you...)<br />
<br /></div>
sarah marie.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17560933381673342291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5592418390490586489.post-53899756696031206732012-09-25T10:54:00.003-07:002012-09-25T10:55:47.652-07:00fall 2010.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
starting on a new page cuz EVERYTHING IS NEW<br />
everything is high and white and blank and open and new<br />
and i can't pretend to be affected can't pretend to be old anymore<br />
i am THIS, i am THIS, and then i am THIS.<br />
now i am THIS.<br />
i was THAT back THEN<br />
but i'm reborn all the time<br />
yes reborn every moment.<br />
i am new.<br />
soy nueva.<br />
sono nuova.<br />
i should be doing nothing other than what i'm doing right now.<br />
i should be doing nothing other than what i'm doing right now.<br />
it is perfect and it's real.<br />
everything is right.<br />
everything is perfect.<br />
and that shit's changin' all the time.<br />
everything is perfect and it's changin' all the time.<br />
i will NOT want (this is a contradiction)<br />
i want to not want. </div>
sarah marie.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17560933381673342291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5592418390490586489.post-43721751938433121262012-09-25T10:51:00.002-07:002012-09-25T10:51:57.380-07:00postcoital. fall 2010.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
i am hard and i am so hardcore.<br />
did you know how hard i am? i am?<br />
i am sitting cunt wide open after you've opened me up<br />
but i'm disappointed once again<br />
-nobody can thrill me like he did.<br />
it's like my birthday and christmas all over again<br />
but none of the presents fit me and none of them will again<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
sarah marie.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17560933381673342291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5592418390490586489.post-26969202341732277662012-09-25T10:49:00.000-07:002012-09-25T10:49:17.284-07:00for elia. fall, 2010.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
do you feel me in the waves<br />
in the time change<br />
can you feel me through the time<br />
cross the ocean<br />
your song is repeating<br />
ricocheting against soft clouds<br />
though in my head i am<br />
with you always<br />
i am with you always<br />
<br />
<br />
to awaken within our dream.</div>
sarah marie.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17560933381673342291noreply@blogger.com0