I do not like to wash my hands

I want to keep your smell on them forever

I want to hold my face still

and smell the sweat and the pain and the food

I want to remember every moment of that day again

I want to keep everything I touched close and safe

no matter how many germs find their way to me.

I want to smell your skin

and every grain of grass I touched

I want to remember the pop that I spilled

and the anger and happiness I felt.

I want to feel my hunger

and never smell the scent of soap

I want to wind every clock and polish every metal

I want to be part of what I feel

I never want to feel the difference.

I do not like to wash my hands.

I've got a bad taste in my mouth and a reason why I dislike you.

I never want to feel the sun again, this rain feels so perfect, so right

so me.

I want to walk every railroad track and get lost finding myself.

I never want to see your face or hear your voice again

I almost forgot what you looked like, but alas, I cant run forever.

Your terrible self will always end up somewhere I don't want it to be.

You will always be hiding in a corner

in the back of my mind

wherever I look some version of you will creep out of the shadows.

Why settle for less? I'll take you in bulk.

Go big, and get out of my home.

hello empty blog space

I just recently went to Borders (sad face for bankruptcy) and bought a journal.

it's leather and smells like glue.

I wrote this post last night, please enjoy

I cannot change the things that you've done

I can only write on new pages

empty, blank, only lines filling in

a place where I can begin.

though these should be your pages

you just allow them to rot

to sit alone and ponder an empty future

while you read old pages

and fill your life with rubber shavings.

you have so many utensils

pens, crayons, pencils

yet you do not know how to hold them.

you never give a scribble

in fear of wasting space

you hold your head so high

yet you cannot find any grace.

never fear an empty page

fill every book with thought

do not keep your silence for long

but do not forget when you should hold your tongue.

its days like this where i hate going to sleep knowing i feel incomplete.

I think I might need to work on me lately

I have been feeling and acting so lonely, when I am no where close to lonely

to not freak people out, i will save you from hearing why i think this.

but i am a creeper. its bad when you start freaking yourself out.

I tried.

I have tried keeping to myself, but I have to be honest- I am so confused.

I met you, and for a week, we were fun, we spent a lot of time together, confided in each other

then after a week, you stopped.

stopped being fun, stopped talking

just. stopped.

I have your side, yes, I have heard I am too touchy, I have been told I can be a bit too much

but I asked and double checked, and you said everything was fine.

do you see my side? do you know what I think?

I think for a week you put on a show

I feel like you LIED to me.

so, currently, I sit in a lonely apartment, scratching my head, starving, and picking at myself trying to think. THINK.

What the hell is wrong with me?

why am I so messed up? what the HELL did I do?

and why do I feel like I have no friends?

because, Jennise, it's after 1 am

and you dont matter.

thanks me, I hate you too.

I always walk a straight line

I follow the same thick path

I walk with force and take long strides

and try to never look back.

but when the record breaks

and skips and skips and skips

I can only feel like I am walking backwards

and I feel my sanity start to slip.

you're caught in the middle

a grave sight in the center of rosebushes

the last stone that finally broke due to wear

every step that echoes down the hall.

you're the beginning

but you're so close to the end

the middle cant even find you

tell me, what makes you bend?

the time laps is outright truthful

you'll trust the world before you even know your own self

you walk among the commoners

to see if you can find an empty shelf.

your emotions cannot save you

you have broken what is already gone

a step, a turn, a glance too fast

your past is already lost.

Captain M. R. Burns

You cannot break the will of my soul

with words and glances you throw

you arm yourself to puncture my skin

yet my scars are all my own

I've seen that lately

you cannot break me

you cannot mend my solid case

It's only me

I hold the key

that controls this strong device

I will not bend

you cannot break me

with my will I shall not fail these words,

you will not command me

you will not shape me

I never put the clay in your hands

I am my maker

I swim through my dreams

I am stronger than I will ever believe

with every breath and every step

I will become more durable with every gap or gash.

right now, my best friend of 14+ years is in Uganda. She is serving her mission and faith and loving every minute of it and all I want to do is hold her and cry.

I love you KP, keep calm and carry on. <3

I remember sparkly purple nail polish

and watching baseball games behind TV trays.

I remember falling out of trees

and swings that we would make rhymes upon

I vaguely remember something about a train

and a child-retarded version of "I believe I can fly".

I remember every time we went down the stairs a different way

and finding our Christmas presents early.

I remember our bath tub

and my broken foot

and how we drew quiddich hoops and lightning bolts all over it.

I remember my Barbies

and the vent we passed toys through when we were in time out

and hating ACDC songs.

I will always remember Grandpa's house, and the adventures we had crawling through his hordes of treasures, and since cleaning it out, I will always be thankful that we didn't die doing so. I will never forget jumping over the motion light, sneaking peaks, and "the weenie rub". I will always love the beach, and picking up shells and making every move a game.

You will always be my younger brother, and I will always love you.

I can't believe how old we are.

When you smile.

On April 28th, my Grandfather passed away from congestive heart failure.

I got a phone call at work around 5 o'clock from my crying mother. It was the weirdest phone call I have ever received.

All through high school, we all kept thinking "its really any time now.." and not because of health issues, but because he was the most stubborn person I ever knew.

Driving with my Grandpa was one of the scariest experiences including unused turn signals, inexperience with the term "right of way", roundabouts, and not knowing the difference between on and off ramps.

Besides terrifying driving, my Grandpa was a very wonderful, loving man. I remember when we were kids and we lived on the big hill in Seatac. Grandpa Larry would come take us away from our tired parents and spoil us. I distinctly remember one summer day when James and I were playing in our back yard, I really wanted to go in the pool but mom wanted us dry for Gpa, so we decided running through the drying blankets was a good form of entertainment instead. Grandpa came walking around the house, and every angry thought I had dissipated. I remember hugging his knees and running though the house barefoot to grab Mr. Snuggle Bears and my pillow, ready to load into Grandpa's "big green bus".

Once we kissed Mom and Dad goodbye, we strapped in and started up the hill, and I will always remember James counting down from ten to "blastoff!". We always fell asleep in that van, no matter how excited we were.

I remember going to Mukelteo Beach and collecting every shell we found and even making art out of them. I remember acting like spies, jumping over the motion light, and climbing up to the cubbords to count his loose dollar bills. I remember marbles and Grandpa napping at the same time for years. I still hate thinking of how we had to stay at the table until everything was off our plates.

The night my mom called me, all I could think of was how for the last month of his life he wouldn't say her name. I couldn't think of the fun, fast grandpa I had, but the slow, swollen man that couldn't walk on his own anymore. I was thankful to finally hear of his peace, but I couldn't have gotten back to Covington fast enough for my Momma. I think that bracing for his death for so long is what really softened the blow. I have felt so numb since he has passed, but I know the service on Wednesday will do the duty of realizing he is finally gone. death is a weird thing, I doubt anyone will get used to it.

I love you Grandpa.

i want to sit in your kitchen

and watch your every move

i want to sneak in your windows

and fill every crack with my wonder

i want to write a story

and fill you with this ocean in my mind

leave your back door ajar

unlock the dead bolt and shiver in fear

lie awake at night listening to every false step and branch against the window

wishing it was me

want me in your bedroom

feel me in your veins

wake and quake and fear the feelings

wake and feel the waves.

I really wonder

if people are as dumb as they act.

is it a show? do you really think this gets you positive attention or friends?

My great big octopus heart.

I have been hurt before, as many people have. I have given love to many people, friends, boyfriends, family, nature. I am sometimes rejected, sometimes forgotten, but mostly returned that love.

in the many relationships that i have had, I have noticed one thing about myself.

I give, and give, and love, and give.

I realize now it is a bit more within reason

as in I think before I give

and give

but man, I love to give.

I really enjoy making people happy

and I don't plan on sounding like a jerk

but I am a good, loyal, giving heart, and I know that about me.

it's nothing to ever boast or scream about, just something I need to remind myself when I feel unhappy or question myself.

a few months ago, I had a dream about an octopus, but really it was a human heart with tentacles. I cant remember why I dreamed it or what it did, I just know I loved it, and I felt like it explained my personal satisfaction easily. A large heart with arms, handing out whatever makes you happy.

So, in lieu of my 21st birthday, I feel like I need to commemorate myself. I'm going to be twenty one years old. I know there is more to come, and that every year will feel better as it comes, but this is me leaving behind my childhood, my fears, my nightmares and thoughts that will go away with determination.

I wrote this blog for two reasons. One is to easily explain why I want a large octopus taking over my arm, and the other is to ask you as a birthday present to yours truly, to present me with birthday money to add to my art. My birthday is not until august, and any little bit will help, as every one of my friends has touched my heart, and will never be forgotten.

Thank you for reading.

You are my radio star.

In high school, I was many things. I was a drama kid, an emo kid, a goof ball, a flirt, and a hypocrite. of all the things I did at Kentwood, there were few people that would nod at my stupid rants, roll their eyes at my latest obsession, and be there for me no matter what the cost.

There are few people in this world that will let me appear at their house, without warning, wearing ridiculous clothing and be perfectly fine with me stealing their food. I also, have few friends that wont roll their eyes when I say I am so excited for wrestle mania I might pee my pants

twice.

There is one man that stood their when I was falling fast, and caught me. One man that got in my face and made me change things for the better. One person that I can easily call the one.

The one true King, that is.

TOTK and I started out (unaware to him) as enemies. I couldn't stand his jokes, loud voice, and crude comments, until one day, cards brought us together.

There aren't too many people that will let you walk over them, and take your apology later. TOTK will re-read your letters and put them back in their box, until the next time he needs to read them.

He never forgets the times he needed you most, he'll hang his head and listen when he has done something wrong, and he always keeps his door open to those who deserve it.

I am glad you are still here, Kelly King.

Welcome Home.

You never know everything about anyone

but you never know everything about yourself either.

I write these posts in a daze, when the words I want to tell the world take over my motor controls and have at it. Every so often I go through my old blogs, dissecting my own work and weighing it word for word like a critic.

I have to be honest, It's pretty impressive that I just brought myself to tears reading one of my own posts.

if you never know yourself, how can one trust other people?

I do it too often

but I don't think I will ever stop.

shaker shaker, I am the taker

the words that travel through the night

drifting, floating, coating the walls

of your insides with cotton and foam.

wake her, wake her

the tide is your taker

and the moon turns away

to not see the sad look on your face.

teaser, teaser

you can never please her

she takes and needs

kisses and eases

but she always brings you back for more.

I want bad coffee and good eggs.

Sitting in this diner, listening to useless conversations about WiFi and TV shows. I yearn to have a companion sitting across from me, blabbering about oil changes or diplomas.

What matters in this world? Human interaction, name changes, and bank account numbers?

I want an ice cold cup of water. I want to deprive my body until my mind creates sweet words and savory sentences to fill this empty stomach and not feel lonely.

My eyes can't focus, and this coffee is definitely bad. They don't have real eggs here, so I order crepes.

There is a man with shiny shoes and a dates class ring across the restaurant. what makes that man happy? Picking up his suit from the dry cleaners, polishing his shoes, cutting a business deal? Or is there more to this suited man drinking tea?

In school they always said questions in essays don't flow well. Good thing this isn't an essay.

These crepes aren't bad, I pour another cup of coffee and tear at the cream.

Two girls my age are talking about pop culture, thinking they know everything about the world, while two older woman are talking about vacations to Santa Barbra and Germany. It's always a fight to be louder than the person across from you, isn't it?

My crepes are already cold, but I force myself to cut rectangles and spoon them in. School busses are passing by, I woke up late today.

I never want to be like any of the people in this diner, and these crepes suck.

Waiter? More coffee and my bill.

Justine

probably one of my favorite pictures ever.

since the disintegration of her parents marriage..

Its the day after Valentines day.

A tradition where one goes out and spends patience, money, and romantic hoplessness on another person. People will risk losing it all, getting their heart broken, fighting for the last single rose just to make a pretty girl smile and say I love you. Why?

Here's a story, grab some coffee and have a listen.

I'm an extremely happy person. I love a ton of things. I like lady bugs, flamingos, snakes, and octopus. I prefer cake to pie, cuddling to kisses, and truth to a pretty lie. I like cherry trees and swing sets, clove cigarettes and tattoos. I'm a strange, obtuse, difficult puzzle, but at the same time, I'm extremely simple.

I enjoy so many things, but I would give them all for one simple, over-hyped thing.

Love.

I love love. I could bathe in it, drown in it and still be alive

but all things come with a cost.

I've had many a loving man. tall men, short men, sane men, and crazy men. They have all told me they loved me, and the majority said it just to get something. Whether that something was a kiss, a lay, or just the simple feeling of not being alone, that little four letter word will get them that thing.

love. marriage. It's what you're born for. Read any fairy tale; there is love. Listen to a preacher; there is love. Have a pet or hobby, and we start to love it. There is love everywhere every day, every hour, every minute. Someone could be dying, but their family is there. Someone is being born, into loving open arms. I could toss more pretty sentences at you, but my fingers are getting tired.

When I was eleven years old, my Mommy and Daddy sat me down and spelled out the big scary D word. I didn't understand. What eleven year old would? I remember crying, but I couldn't tell you why. My mom worked morning shifts, so our dad would take us to school in our old, beat up El Camino and listen to oldies and talk radio. We always got there early, I remember thinking it was so cool. James and I found everything that little radio said funny. I remember loving those mornings, but not because my dad was there. It was James.

You see, up until a few years after the divorce, my dad never took anything for his anger. Thankfully he hasn't had a drink since before my sister was conceived, but his anger was vicious. James and I would make a break for the back door (I of course would take a minute to remove shoes and socks) and we would dash out to the back yard to collect Caterpillar, harass neighbors, swing, climb, or ruin our dads afternoon nap.

I remember waking up an angry Jim Gaines so many times, but the one time I remember the best wasn't the 'what I did to get it', but the aftermath.

I was in the corner of my room, in complete silence and tears, holding my cheek and crying uncontrollably. I remember what I thought at that moment.

"Daddy doesn't love me."

Love. He didn't show love to me, to James, to Julianna, or to mom. He loved naps, old cars, and wrestling on TV.

I don't think I felt love from my dad until I was about... seventeen. We were going to car shows a lot, and I liked it for the hot dogs, little shops, tattooed people, and James. One morning, when it was way too early to function, my dad held my hand like he used to, with his thumb, pointer and middle finger, just holding my pointer, and that moment I knew my dad loved me.

Love is so sacred, so simple, so complex, and so taken advantage of.

Just savor it when you have it, please, and when it's gone, and you know it's gone?

Go find new love.

with every day

that goes by

-no, wait

ever minute

I love you more and more.

ugh.

I have a soul mate

and nothing will ever drive us apart.

"I've got on my secret smile no one can see, but can feel it."

Ønsker På En Mælkebøtte.

in strange places

Every day I look for inspiration in the world around me
I go on websites and look at beautiful works of art
I look at pictures from around the world
of beautiful places, of human or nature
and no matter what, I cant find that inspiration.
The only way I have found inspiration is if a wonderful or strange event happens
or I read wonderful, well written, emotional pieces of art
and I have found a new artist in a place I never thought to look.
I have heard her talk about her blogs, and how she doesn't think she is that wonderful
but every time there is a new post on my dashboard, I cant wait to open the book into her mind, heart, and soul, and read encrypted stories of a young girl who cant wait to learn
sing
fly
love.
every word is golden
chosen precisely for its sentence
written with love and care and thoughtfulness.
every time I read, I decode the picture she posted
and think back on times when we were younger
and I can't help myself from stopping and thinking about how far she has come
and how far she still has to go
but she will welcome it with wide open arms and a warm, adventuring smile
because I have never known her to turn down an adventure.
you're wonderful, darling
thank you for the flowers.

Hello there

I feel like I haven't written in months. I know its been days, but... my brain is so messy right now.

if it was a circuit board, trees would be growing out of it.

I don't really feel like writing

that's really it.

I have been talking to people, instead of poetically throwing my mind onto a computer screen

also, I have been wanting to make art recently

like

painting

sculpting

photography

modeling

metal craft

jewelry

leather working

ANYTHING

just not sitting here, in front of a computer

when did people skills go out of style?

scal-pals

cutting away skin is a form of mutilation

tearing back the shell that hides your good things

the weird part is, the shell is prettier than the insides

skin can scar, tan, freckle, wrinkle, be coarse, smooth, and tender

but insides are always red, puffy, bloody, sensitive

easy to hurt

they don't scar easily

and no matter how hard to try to tighten your zippers and button your buttons

your skin can scar and tighten and strengthen

but your heart will always be fragile

your stomach can ulcer, twist, shrink and grow

your liver can darken, shrivel, and die

but something will wriggle its way in

find a dark corner and turn out your insides

this soft flesh is not armor

its just there to keep the stage clean

like curtains

or is it the other way around?

I wish i could love my insides

they are supposed to matter

but sometimes they just turn to jello

or stink

or maggots

and I turn stupid

or gross

or rotten

and I just wish I could control it.

I'll just get more zippers

and fasten some locks.

you cant break me,

only i can

i cant really think straight

its just confusing

to be completely honest

because i know breaking it off is the right thing.

I adore you, I love everything about you

well, not everything

but you don't love everything about me

maybe we could rekindle the flames?

it would eventually end for better

or worse

and I cant loose you

i would rather let you go

I don't write about you like I used to

i don't know how to touch you

i could have just kept quiet and tried

but i didn't

why?

WHY

I don't want this to happen

but it has to

maturity has to win here

I can do this

for maturity

for all of the rash decisions i have ever made

I have to be strong and start now

what should I do?

should I clean?

shower?

eat?

turn into a pool of jello on the bed?

I could have kept this going

it wouldnt have lasted

better to end it now than keep it going

I can do this

this is right

what is wrong?

is touching his stuff wrong?

I have never had a break this clean

I feel the awkward bars

but they dont need to be there

this is best for both of us

maybe it will change?

i miss us already