Saturday, July 23, 2005

curves creep up, inflating my body
yanking away my cherished comfort.
oh nature, make me not a woman.
my heart bursts at arrangements of words,
melting me into hysterics.
oh please, i don't want to be a woman.
desire clouds my better sense
and straddled i gladly limp to unloved.
i beg, anything but a woman.
naivety becomes my immature trait,
trampling my confidence to dust.
please god,
i'm not ready to grow into a woman.
*bettie* at 10:10 AM

Tuesday, July 12, 2005

my heart is an open sore
for him to rub in
his salty ejaculate.
in return, i retain
my water, thoughts, and emotions
and put on my pretty face to please.
"thank you sir, may i have another?"
*bettie* at 10:09 AM

Thursday, February 17, 2005

my writing changes
over time
it beautifies
mystifies
and opens up my
changeling eyes;
"come to treasure thesauruses,
come learn to adore" it says
and with a keen ear i will
listen to the pen.
*bettie* at 1:29 PM

circular comfort
means there is no stopping point
beneath the
short worry lines of his forehead.
and so,
i draw my conclusions
from the composition
of his expressions-
the creases will smooth over
but
his favor will be neverending,
i wish.
*bettie* at 1:28 PM

i section off my dependency,
funds depleted
and no attention to pay.
you couldn't have been
more right
about my tinfoil nature,
or more suspicious
of my seclusion.
hateful,
selfish,
bitch.
you couldn't have been
more right
about me.

i pop off my top,
dripping questionable quotations
and
minimal appeal.
violence rests
in my fingertips
and conceals
under silver
glitter. how
long can you
love a girl
with no steady
eye color?
*bettie* at 1:26 PM

our love was
knee-high
at the fourth of july,
no longer head
over heels.
it didn't take
a month
to drain you from
my stalk-ings.
*bettie* at 1:25 PM

his speech spills sooth
on my hungry sedation-
oh dear,
is it happily ever after yet?
i surrender all my loose ends
and split hairs
at the altar i built
in his pants.
myself,
the ultimate sacrifice.
oh god,
am i in paradise yet?
*bettie* at 1:23 PM

predict an addict,
plot her flaws-
abuse.
a huff and puff to
intoxicate her
absence
with my last
breath, betrayed.
she calms what
calm cannot,
but can she save
herself from frenzy?
we better not take that
chance,
they say.
i'm miserable without you.
*bettie* at 1:22 PM

i submit to the square
angles, tri-
a fuck myself over
three times to be fair.
a minus
for my mind's rest
and a sobering attempt at substanceless,
but i fail all my credits regardless.
extra.
*bettie* at 1:20 PM

my clothes are a chameleon,
radical-reformation.
spin-cycle,
how i tumble in thee.
*bettie* at 1:17 PM

symbolism
is not going
to save my hidden
meanings from
taking over my life
outside of the canvas..

i do not appreciate
displacement,
displeasing.
in fact,
i am not fond of
the decomposed,
depreciative.

there's a symbolism
in our symbiosis,
financial fornication.
i'm sweater-clad
and sweating tears,
imploring your and your casual crevices
as to where the implication
might lay down and die.

i stand unsure.
the only thing i know forever
is how good you smell
in the morning.
*bettie* at 1:16 PM

recess,
i regress,
has come to ruin me.
any time spent
sans soulmate
seems useless
in that there is no
comfort in time without
love.
a lone, long hour
is every one
now that i am
long alone.
*bettie* at 1:14 PM

our daily routine
deceased
decreased
into a dilluted dullness.
i ask,
does comfortable gray
constitute my acceptance of
your disgusting and destitute
attitudes?
probably not,
but i will continue to play
if you dillute me right.
*bettie* at 1:13 PM

he fucks me
because he hates me,
fucks me when he's mad.
it's a rough-love principle,
he explained to me,
in that i like it rough
when he loves me
but i am just too rough
to love.
every night i sob to myself,
"he should've just been another notch
on the bedpost!"
to which the bed replies,
"you shouldn't have let him
make holes in your heart."
and so i do what any
bed-postal ex would
and fuck him in my dreams
to forget how rough
reality is.
*bettie* at 1:11 PM

this is the meaningless existence
i once sought so relentlessly
to escape.
i want to be as beautiful a person as
you described me
in august,
to be as captivating as
the way you used to dream of.
there is nothing worse
than being sexy and useless,
to have so much hope in myself,
the impossibility.
often do i regret
the way i let your love
fool me into believing myself to be
a fully deserving party,
for the grounding of that high
could be the one that
takes me under.
*bettie* at 1:08 PM

Sunday, October 03, 2004

i have so many memories.

the texture of his hair when i reached forward into the front seat to touch him. counting down the seconds until 3:30 in the morning. looking up and out the window at the plane seemingly suspended in the air just after the sun rose in the sky. the way the clinic smelled. the oxygen in my nose. the giant pool of blood i found under me. vomiting six different times at the clinic. the look on the nurse's face, her badly placed eyebrow ring. the shape, the size of my baby on the ultrasound picture. the way i forgot to ask to see it again before i left. her scream into the phone, her loud and piercing "MURDER." suspending my legs off the end of the table. necia hugging me for the first time. asking god why he hated me when my car wouldn't start. shivering with him at the gas station. the expression on the protester's face.
my baby.
my beautiful, beautiful baby.

i have so many memories, and now they're all i have.

every time i pull my pants down to make sure i'm not bleeding to death, i smell the clinic again. my tongue still swells with the taste of the "twist up" they made me drink. each time a tear rolls down my face, i feel him wiping them off of me and hear the echos of his "awwww." and when she looks at me, all i see behind her eyes is my baby, my beautiful baby.

my memories. every painful one. they're all i have.

i talked to god on the ride home. in the backseat, still twilighting, laying down under my jasmine sleeping bag with offspring in my ears. i talked to my baby. my beautiful, beautiful baby. they loved me, they said, and i did the right thing. right for us, right for him, right for me. and someday, my baby will come back.

these voices, these moments trapped in my head. i have nothing else.

pro-choice advice, it was all right. i feel relieved. but she was right, they were right, too. i miss it. my baby, my beautiful beautiful baby. it promised to come back someday.

someday. but for now i have its picture, all the moments and the way i heard it in my head. it's all i have.

*bettie* at 3:39 PM

Sunday, August 01, 2004

bra strap belly,
have you weighed yourself today?
cellulite sells you lite
always, yogurt and lemonade.
natural's not good enough.
and pushing buttons was
never good for me,
but it seems they pop off
with no motivation and little warning.
coke, c2,
high on a fast or
fast on a high.
give us lord our daily bread-
carb and fat-free, please.

*bettie* at 9:20 AM

Thursday, May 27, 2004

panic rose from my throat
like burning lava out of the crevices of the earth
and exploded from my eyes
at my seven dollar can of desire.
the knowledge,
or regret,
of spitting out my last eight
(seven plus tax)
at the one covered in ash
was enough to make me want
to burn alive.
*bettie* at 2:49 AM

bonsai trees broken,
fainting pudge where emily would've hated.
disgust is
an extra bump in your ponytail,
and not a speck of cottage cheese dried on the mirror,
or in your contacts.
*bettie* at 2:48 AM

Wednesday, May 19, 2004

cd's like easter eggs,
one in every color.
i need six to vie my cravings,
or satisfy,
or something.
nailpolish for alteregos,
ten fingers
twenty toes
and i'm all set for a night
out on the town(s).
a pair of shoes per mumbled threat,
or is that subtract a pair?
she mumbles to herself.
tuna for every third tuesday,
anorexic obsession compulsion
canned in chicken of the sea.
how many dolphins had to die
for your mid-morning
ramble?
*bettie* at 6:38 AM