Ovary Monsters and Unintelligent Design.

Ever had menstrual cramps so bad that you spent a few hours over the toilet throwing up? That was me this morning. Thank you, God, for using your almighty wrath to teach me a lesson for being born female.

It's about time.

It's about time I take my own damn advice in my own damn songs that I wrote, damnit.

I'm leaving this place and going to study music elsewhere. I'm going to make this work. This is what I'm good at.

Anything else is just pretending.

Cards.

I just pulled the if-I-get-cervical-cancer-it's-completely-your-fault card.

Wait, who put that card in the deck?! Oh, you did. Dickhead.

Dream

Had a dream last night that Jake and I had a baby. Scary, scary, scary. Also we had a fight over pasta. Or something lame.

Murphy Law(king).

He’s made your grass grow thicker
(in Hell, yes)--
or less blue than mine
but I’m wishing for a triangle
with long enough legs to
satiate my chase tooth.
Scratch that. I’ll take just
one leg—make it a (secret)
rectangle.

this is, of course,
only Murphy talking.

Blogger doesn't accept my fucking formatting.

You are born old and you read and die heavy.

but on a brighter note, this
Monday-morning doodle resembles (slightly)
a dragon,

if it were a bat,

dressing blindly as a shrimp and

my cursive is hopping fences
falling flat on its curly face.

There’s a breeze that reads my poetry

perches and breathes down on my neck

right above this seat—
or maybe it only happens 3
days a week.
Insanity is doing the same thing

saying the dome theme

dumbing the numb scene

(over and overt send red rover over)
while expecting different results.

Why the hell do I always sit here?

Helmets.

Sometimes while driving, I'll pass by someone on a motorcycle and temporarily freak out. I'll touch my head thinking "Oh no! I forgot my helmet!"

Then I'll remember that I'm in a car.