Sunday, September 22, 2013

Back in June

Back in June I woke up with wider eyes. And sometimes all I had to do was brush my hair and it looked fairly okay.

Back in June I watched old movies and tried other white girl things. I don’t drink coffee though. Partially because God and partially because I don’t like the taste.

Back in June I had this little dream catcher the size of a silver dollar. I took lots of pictures of it and wore it around my neck because it was June.

If I could give you an image to June, I would describe a pile of stones stacked so high that standing on the top of them would be wobbly and you might upchuck from the tiny trees and office buildings around you.

But if you didn’t look down. If you looked straight, eye level with airplanes and suicide bombers then you’d laugh like your water weight wasn’t boiling.

I won’t be home for dinner. Sorry, you must have mistaken me for someone on time.

Just, Hazel

Throw Bricks On Me.

Throw bricks on me please? I need to pass the time.

Throw bricks on me my diet starts tomorrow.

Throw bricks on me I’ve never been to Beijing or Tibet.

Throw bricks on me I was THIS close to sneaking into Daft Punk.

Throw bricks on me I keep forgetting I’m not 11. It takes me a few second to say 17 when someone asks how old I am.

Throw bricks on me I tan naked in my backyard. Dad doesn’t like it.

Throw bricks on me I’ve got the chills. Forgot a winter coat.

This time, chuck a brick at me I have a friend who acts like Mardi Gras.

Throw bricks on me I smell like mosquito repellent.

Throw bricks on me because I have all these ideas and dreams and hysterical plans and throw more bricks because I never try them or discover them or wake up and be them.

Throw another brick.

Just, Hazel. 

Sunday, September 15, 2013

things that fit in a box

- fleece
- coffee mugs
- all 4 twilight books
- street lamps
- a walmart clerk
- intestines
- grandma's record collection

things that don't fit in a box

- a tennis match
- nelson's itunes library
- sophomores
- le'sprit de le'scalier
- 15 minutes
- fire would just burn the box
- online shopping
- waiting for instant pudding

The Golden Ticket

play this song to read post correctly. 

My heart doesn’t race anymore.

I’ve found this city where you and I share a room surrounded by vacant houses and empty supermarkets.

My heart thumps evenly from the time I wake up till I’m snoozin' in your curls. Cause’ mmm boy with you? No time for dinner or reading the paper.

That’d be wasting minutes we could spend roaming our eyes through in glimmery places, bathing in roses and lavender oils.

It’s a highway to Hell, love is. But I’m winning.

Not like a race... no.

Uh think of Charlie “I’ve won! I've won The Golden Ticket! I’ve got it. I'VE WON!”

Being with him makes me weak in the head. I don't have to think or invent a thing. In fact, he makes my body forget I have a head at all.

“I love you.”

You imagine hearing the words from someone who isn’t your family. Someone you sleep about, watch movies about, eat breakfast about.

“You love me?” I ask. Poking his conscience.

He nods.

“Say it again.” I let my elbow bump against his chest.

“I love you.” He repeats.

The only thing I know is that I am a drop and he is precipitation. I fall through cracks and he sucks life into clouds and pours dread over skylines and I, I do not deserve him.

Just, Hazel.

Sunday, September 8, 2013

iurhstjlkfe.. sorry. my head kind of got mad and hit the keyboard real hard.

He’s a love struck Romeo whose eyes used to follow my steps. He played with my hair like his fingers were fire and my hair was a watery relief. His kisses were so drippy with ache that once, they even made me cry. And then he cried because I cried.

Just, Hazel

And in Jr. high, they don't let you use crayons anymore. It has to colored pencils.

I’m seventeen years old and I hate my job. I don’t think that’s supposed to happen till I’m like... I don’t know not seventeen.

Growing up too fast.

But I think that kid with the tuba gets it.

Just, Hazel

Sunday, September 1, 2013

Finally Just Be Here

I’m finally here. Your fingers paint circles on my stomach and the wind quit shaking my hair.

I’m finally here. You kiss my hands and glitter courses through my veins

I’m finally here. A little afraid of my heart and it’s constant hunger for your presence. The way it stops. and starts…

I’m finally here. You laugh and respond with shaky breaths. It makes my blood feel more like warm blood.

I’m finally here. This place where I know something is among us. I don’t have to identify it, but knowing it’s there. Like spare batteries in the hall closet.

I’m finally here. This place people sing about, kiss about, laugh, cry, and write poems about.

I think I’ll buy us condo here, with a cafĂ© around the corner. They’ll remember our orders, we'll become regulars, and we can finally just be here.

Just, Hazel

"This is a state of grace. This is the worth-while fight. Love is a ruthless game unless you play it good and right."-T swift.