Undead Apes

I'm sitting here like a dork before going to bed, my body very exhausted but my mind as usual running running like a little hamster in a squeaky wheel. I'm watching a documentary on Animal Planet on tarantulas, and I really shouldn't as I tend to dream about the last thing I see at night.

Last night was horrible, it took me a bit to fall asleep...and when I finally did the most realistic never-ending nightmare ensued. Before I tell you about my nightmare, I must share with you that they're showing the doctor on t.v. that's gonna talk about tarantulas, and for some reason he's in the middle of a desert landscape in full karate gear doing strange moves for a rather obese fella. What that has to do with tarantulas remains to be seen, I'll let you know.

Anyways, my dream started rather normal with me sailing on a Spanish 15th century boat...and I was a captain. I was just shouting orders and telling people which side of the boat was which and how to set sail and the sea around us was just a beautiful shade of teal with little white foam tips shining as far as the eye could see. So here I am, captain of my own boat, pulling into a sort of port where Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes are waiting for me with their new baby in their arms. They wanted to see the boats and needed someone to watch their new baby boy, who I should mention, as I got close turned out to be a baby orangutan in a onesie. A pale yellow onesie. Yes, this is a normal dream to me, whenever I'm not having the recurring wolves nightmare I usually have.

Right, so as I'm rocking this baby monkey Cruise-Holmes in my arms and trying to make it fall asleep...I'm suddenly walking in a hospital hallway and everything has vanished from my previous peaceful dream.Now I find myself seeing everyone from patients to doctors to visitors running in a panic around me, past me...away from me. While this happens, I hear a low groan...correction..groans and scuffling behind me, and panic takes a hold of me. I look behind me and zombies that were a mix between the movie 28 Days Later and Resident Evil are swarming the hospital. I start running after the crowd, apparently everywhere we chose to hide was already crawling with the undead and slowly the crowd of normal humans, such as myself (hey i was normal in this dream, gimme a break), keep dropping like flies. I run out the staircase, and make it to the next floor down before realizing they're already flooding the rooms below me and almost catch me on the stairs.

Bad move Yari, should've stayed in the floor you were...there's even less regular people on this floor and scores of flesh eaters running all over the place. This is the point of the dream where I realize this is a damn dream, and I'm trying to change the outcome...failing miserably. Why won't I wake up? I run into a men's restroom and there's a zombie coming out of the stall (his pants were up and he had flushed thankfully) and trying to grab me. I kick the door in and he falls back inside the stall at which point it magically locks behind him. He's kicking and banging in there and I say to myself "I better get out of here, all this ruckus is gonna alert the rest of them that I'm in here." So I run out and realize they're closing in around the restrooms so I run into the female restroom and check, double check, TRIPLE check under the stalls to make sure I'm alone. I see no feet, I'm safe. I quietly lock the door behind me and I hear a scuffle, I look down again and this time I see a pair of feet peeking from the middle stall and I'm too late to keep the little old lady trapped in there. This is horrible.

I KNOW I'm dreaming yet coming at me is a once sweet 80'ish yr old lady with half her face apparently decayed and blown off. Even in the dream I feel like crap about what I'm about to do. I kick her in the chest for her to fall on her back and I stomp on her neck and face feeling her crush under me. I just killed an old lady...well an undead old lady. When is this stopping!!!?? I already know I'm dreaming dammit when am I waking up? I don't know why at this point I decide to run out of the stall, out of sheer panic I guess. But yeah, bad move again, now there's about 6 of them surrounding me and they overpower me. Wake up. Wake up. Aren't you supposed to wake up at this point? I feel their mouths starting to tear me apart, ripping my fingers, biting into my neck and shoulder...sheer pain...my heart beating out of my throat more afraid than I've ever been.

I still don't wake up. One of them tears my ankle off, pain pain pain burning...gurgling as the other one bites into my throat and takes a chunk off. There goes another finger. So much blood, so many teeth. Last thing I remember doing is clutching my cell phone so hard in the remaining hand that it starts beeping and ringing and they are taken aback long enough for the 'men in white space suits' and the army dudes to blast em off me. I feel the good guys gently put me on a stretcher...I'm in so much pain...my breath full of gargled blood. Why have I not woken up, this is a dream. I feel them stick a needle in my arm and put an IV on. Some doctor looks at me and says "its too late for her, put her down"...I can't even scream and tell them I'm very much alive, awake. I see the army dude put a needle into the IV and intense burning...pain shoots up my arm into my heart and chest. Everything goes black.

I wake up.I have never had that happen to me before, even with my recurring nightmares I always wake up before the bad thing happens. As soon as I realize it's a dream I am able to alter it or wake up. What a crappy night. I've spent the whole day popping my fingers thankful I have all 10, yet reliving the feeling and sound of them biting into them and ripping them off.Phew. Thanks for listening, and by the way...there was no reason for that Dr. James Raven to do the karate kung fu dance in this tarantula documentary. Now I'm watching them shock the damn spiders with electrical wires in order to have them spit out venom. Huh...I bet Tom Cruise and Katie DO have a baby monkey.

"and if I could dream at all, it would be of you"...

Dancing Neurons Go Round n Round

Before I was born, mom says dad used to sing at her baby bump at night when they went to bed.

Every...night. She told me that on a summer day in the 80's - the loudest baby girl in Mayaguez, PR was born and was creating a riot in the nursery at 2:52 p.m.They had tried everything-feeding, diapers, giving me to mom to coo at-and the nurses kept saying I was just being a fussy baby. So, at her wits end my mom handed me into my dad's arms...and the first thing he did was hold close to him and sing. I shut up immediately.

When I was 8 months old, my parents put me down for an afternoon nap. As they were walking out of the room and about to close the door, they heard someone whistling. My aunt was just arriving at the doorway too, she was coming to visit and she told my dad "stop whistling you're going to wake 'charo' up"...my dad assured her he hadn't whistled. They both heard it. So they just shrugged it off, and about 15 minutes later when they were having coffee in the dining room, they heard more whistling coming from my room...at which point they rushed into my room to see what was up. They all looked in the crib to see me whistling for the first time. I never stopped after that.

When I was a year old, I used to keep rhythm by tapping my foot on my carseat following the beat to my parents beat up radio.

Music. When everything else has failed, when everyone is gone, music has been my life. There's something about it that can fill a void once thought to be empty forever. It can move or break me, it can bring a smile to my face, a tear down my cheek, a need to dance around like a dork. My guitar makes things feel right, even if I'm not as good as I wish I was. My voice can express in a song (although it cracks and it's not even close to how good I sound in my head) my exact mood. When my eyes reveal nothing to you, listen to the songs I choose to play...they will speak volumes as to how I'm feeling that day.

Whomever I love, must understand this need and drive I have for music. Must understand why I can listen to a certain song 4 or 5 times in a row and close my eyes on certain verses or guitar riffs. Must understand what is happening inside my head and body when I'm hearing the only thing that makes sense in life...music. I can feel a strum from the tip of my fingers to the deepest part of my heart. It can make me feel like I can do anything. Music unites me with others, it's my companion...it's like poetry.

There's a song for every person I've met. Every single one of you that have crossed my life, has a song I associate with you. Some of you will be forever in my mind no matter how badly I want to forget you, because you embodied what one of my favorite songs was for eternity. When it all fades, when I'm old (if i make it that far), when I have children (if i have any), when I'm saying I LOVE YOU to someone...there will be a song. There will be a dancing soul. I will be alive.

"There's things I remember...things I forget, but I miss you, I guess that I should..."

Find me a little Oblivion - Originally written 5/29/09

She was mad again.

It seemed lately we had more arguments and bad days, than the long talks we used to have when I was a little girl.

It had been different back then. She hugged me a lot more, and we'd talk for hours laying on her bed with the sound of the fan slowly buzzing in the background. We'd try not to move too much, with all the humidity and heat of those rainy island afternoons, you'd be sticking to the sheets in less than 2 minutes. So in the middle of the humid haze and the symphony our old fan produced...long talks of poetry, stories of her childhood and the ones of generations before her would send my mind drifting into a world I never lived in, yet knew so well.

We were so close, her and I. She'd confide in me, at such a young age, knowing that I understood what she meant...I understood the meaning of love, hate, life...loss. I was her best friend and she was mine. We would whisper and giggle about silly things, or look at the ceiling quiet and just hold each other's hand if it was a sad memory or poem we were reciting. Her love for literature was something so overwhelming that I could not help but want to be like her, having a verse for every ocassion. Having a poem for every memory, her brilliant mind stuck in this dull life of being a housewife and mother...nothing else. I envied that she got to go to college and get a BA before she had me, and that now she had a home, husband, daughter AND an education.

She was so close to me. I would study the way her eyes brightened or saddened as we talked...the way her lips moved. I'd play with her hair, long back then and wondered how long would I have her for. I'd burst into tears sometimes just imagining the day she would leave me and I would see her no more. I used to do that a lot when I was little, imagine how it would be like when one of my parents would die...I would upset myself almost daily. We were so close.

Not now...now she was angry again. I was 16 and wanted my hair dyed for the first time, who else would I trust by mom to do it. Why was she so angry?? Maybe it's because I look so much like my dad...it's like she had to stare at his face all day, and relive her nightmare. But I was not my dad, I didn't leave her, I didn't make her get on her knees and beg me to stay. No woman should have to do that, but she-the proudest woman I had ever known, the most unforgiving-had gotten on her knees as a last resort, clutched at his shirt and begged. "Mom? Your pulling my hair really hard, it hurts." I had said quietly, trying not to cry...it really did hurt. Her brows pulled even closer together and I swear I could see her nostrils flaring...she pulled my hair even rougher. I fought back tears, but lost. Why did she hate me? I was with her, taking care of her and going to high school at the same time. Being her psychologist and the adult for the time being. Making sure she got out of bed to eat, making sure she didn't close in on herself...keeping her mind occupied.

I let out a quiet hiccup sob and she lost her mind for the next 15 minutes. Yanking my hair and screaming at me for being lazy and irresponsible, that I wasn't a child anymore and that I had to stop depending on other people to do shit for me...what?! She tells me that I needed to make something of my life so I wouldn't end up like her, dealing with betrayal. Why is she taking it out on me? I'm hurting too! I miss him too! I hate him too! Yes...I still loved him too. That's what she couldn't handle, that she had loved someone so much that it STILL hurt even after he commited the ultimate betrayal. That she would've taken him back in a heartbeat. She stops with my hair and takes her gloves off, stomping upstairs to her room and slamming the door and yelling to fix my own damn hair. I sit in the middle of the dining room, on a lone chair looking out the window into the snow covered streets outside. Crying loudly, and now angry, I slam my chair against the wall and go to the kitchen sink. Washing the dye out and coughing my tears down the drain. I scream loudly into the towel, this time not caring if she hears me breakdown. I had held it in so long, and now I couldn't stop. I felt my hands shaking, my face burning and my lungs collapsing in my chest...but the scream wouldn't stop.

It turned into a growl. It turned into a loud, crashing "MOM! WHY?!". But I didn't want an answer, I wanted to go. I grabbed a vial of pills from the top of the fridge, my dad's high blood pressure ones...and unscrewed it in less than a second, shoving them all down my throat. No water needed, they were small, they went without a fight.

Three seconds later I'm on my knees in front of the fridge crying quietly, numb...at peace. Something catches my attention out of the corner of my eye. Blinking between my tears I look at the bottom of the stairs, where she's sitting staring at me her face showing the emotion range of a dead robot zombie (oh yeah, really dead like). Even then, I thought she was just going to watch me fade away...but something awoke inside of her. I saw the transformation completely happen in a fraction of a second...when she suddenly jumped on her feet and grabbed my face, shoving her fingers inside my mouth and saying "did you swallow them?? Yari?? DID YOU??". But I couldn't answer...I was so surprised that she was what my mom used to be years ago, I was afraid of even moving and things going back to deadville. She started crying and saying what was I thinking, why would I do that to her ... to try to throw them up, try Yari. She picks up the phone and calls my dad, fuck 9-1-1 let's call the deadbeat...Anyways, Dad appears at our doorstep 5 minutes later and I'm not quite sure between the both of them shove me in the car and take me to the ER. Stomach pumped...nasty feeling...yet...mentally, I was so clear. Mom was slowly being mom again...Dad left us at our doorstep hours later and promised to be there tomorrow to take me to the shrink's office they set me up with for an emergency consult.

The next day, with my hair half dyed and disheveled, matching the dark circles under my eyes...I sat in the shrink's office. I stared at the pale yellow walls, I wondered why it smelled like lysol and so sterile...was he a surgeon too? Could he crack into my head and snip a few memories away from my brain? A 2 for 1 deal? I sat there...holding my mom's hand...smiling. Just her and me...and it was going to be ok.

It will always be...her and me.

New Beginnings and Such...

Guess I begin again, this being a trial post. I'll move over poetry and short fiction from my old blog to this one.

Frank McCourt wrote in Angela's Ashes: "It’s lovely to know that the world can’t interfere with the inside of your head."

The inside of my head...thank the pastrami gods for this blog. Words liberate me, thoughts amuse me... More to come later, so much more.

"Dreams last for so long, even after you're gone..."

Congratulations...It's a Monkey

Past few days have been hectic I suppose.

I don't think the shock of having no job has hit me yet. I'm sure it will tomorrow when my boss (ex boss?) is unable to give me my paycheck due to being broke. I guess by the end of the week I'll start looking for something new if he cant assure me I'll have a job again in a few weeks.

Today I was at my parents house all day just being cool like only I know how to be, seems I've been helping them out a lot and spending time with aunts that are visiting. My dad's health remains the same, which worries me to no end. While I was at my parents house earlier making jewelry (i tend to do this hobby to not think about anything else except beading necklaces) and being quite relaxed talking to my aunts, we heard the back porch bell ring. We went out and the poor little old lady that lives next door had fallen. Ethel is about 89 yrs old and a bit heavy set but she certainly doesn't look her age. Nonetheless, Ethel was on her driveway screamin in pain, apparently had an awful fall and her sister couldn't get her up. Her sister is also elderly and poor thing was just nervous. We went over and got her in the car, took her to the ER with her sister, I hope she's doing ok. Still, I feel bad when older people hurt.

Now I'm sitting here like a dork before going to bed, my body very exhausted but my mind as usual running running like a little hamster in a squeaky wheel. I'm watching a documentary on Animal Planet on tarantulas, and I really shouldn't as I tend to dream about the last thing I see at night. Last night was horrible, it took me a bit to fall asleep...and when I finally did the most realistic never-ending nightmare ensued. Before I tell you about my nightmare, I must share with you that they're showing the doctor on t.v. that's gonna talk about tarantulas, and for some reason he's in the middle of a desert landscape in full karate gear doing strange moves for a rather obese fella. What that has to do with tarantulas remains to be seen, I'll let you know.

Anyways, my dream started rather normal with me sailing on a Spanish 15th century boat...and I was a captain. I was just shouting orders and telling people which side of the boat was which and how to set sail and the sea around us was just a beautiful shade of teal with little white foam tips shining as far as the eye could see. So here I am, captain of my own boat, pulling into a sort of port where Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes are waiting for me with their new baby in their arms. They wanted to see the boats and needed someone to watch their new baby boy, who I should mention, as I got close turned out to be a baby orangutan in a onesie. A pale yellow onesie. Yes, this is a normal dream to me, whenever I'm not having the recurring wolves nightmare I usually have. Right, so as I'm rocking this baby monkey Cruise-Holmes in my arms and trying to make it fall asleep...I'm suddenly walking in a hospital hallway and everything has vanished from my previous peaceful dream.

Now I find myself seeing everyone from patients to doctors to visitors running in a panic around me, past me...away from me. While this happens, I hear a low groan...correction..groans and scuffling behind me, and panic takes a hold of me. I look behind me and zombies that were a mix between the movie 28 Days Later and Resident Evil are swarming the hospital. I start running after the crowd, apparently everywhere we chose to hide was already crawling with the undead and slowly the crowd of normal humans, such as myself (hey i was normal in this dream, gimme a break), keep dropping like flies. I run out the staircase, and make it to the next floor down before realizing they're already flooding the rooms below me and almost catch me on the stairs. Bad move Yari, should've stayed in the floor you were...there's even less regular people on this floor and scores of flesh eaters running all over the place. This is the point of the dream where I realize this is a damn dream, and I'm trying to change the outcome...failing miserably. Why won't I wake up? I run into a men's restroom and there's a zombie coming out of the stall (his pants were up and he had flushed thankfully) and trying to grab me. I kick the door in and he falls back inside the stall at which point it magically locks behind him. He's kicking and banging in there and I say to myself "I better get out of here, all this ruckus is gonna alert the rest of them that I'm in here." So I run out and realize they're closing in around the restrooms so I run into the female restroom and check, double check, TRIPLE check under the stalls to make sure I'm alone. I see no feet, I'm safe. I quietly lock the door behind me and I hear a scuffle, I look down again and this time I see a pair of feet peeking from the middle stall and I'm too late to keep the little old lady trapped in there. This is horrible. I KNOW I'm dreaming yet coming at me is a once sweet 80'ish yr old lady with half her face apparently decayed and blown off. Even in the dream I feel like crap about what I'm about to do. I kick her in the chest for her to fall on her back and I stomp on her neck and face feeling her crush under me. I just killed an old lady...well an undead old lady. When is this stopping!!!?? I already know I'm dreaming dammit when am I waking up? I don't know why at this point I decide to run out of the stall, out of sheer panic I guess. But yeah, bad move again, now there's about 6 of them surrounding me and they overpower me. Wake up. Wake up. Aren't you supposed to wake up at this point? I feel their mouths starting to tear me apart, ripping my fingers, biting into my neck and shoulder...sheer pain...my heart beating out of my throat more afraid than I've ever been. I still don't wake up. One of them tears my ankle off, pain pain pain burning...gurgling as the other one bites into my throat and takes a chunk off. There goes another finger. So much blood, so many teeth. Last thing I remember doing is clutching my cell phone so hard in the remaining hand that it starts beeping and ringing and they are taken aback long enough for the 'men in white space suits' and the army dudes to blast em off me. I feel the good guys gently put me on a stretcher...I'm in so much pain...my breath full of gargled blood. Why have I not woken up, this is a dream. I feel them stick a needle in my arm and put an IV on. Some doctor looks at me and says "its too late for her, put her down"...I can't even scream and tell them I'm very much alive, awake. I see the army dude put a needle into the IV and intense burning...pain shoots up my arm into my heart and chest. Everything goes black. I wake up.

I have never had that happen to me before, even with my recurring nightmares I always wake up before the bad thing happens. As soon as I realize it's a dream I am able to alter it or wake up. What a crappy night. I've spent the whole day popping my fingers thankful I have all 10, yet reliving the feeling and sound of them biting into them and ripping them off.

Phew. Thanks for listening, and by the way...there was no reason for that Dr. James Raven to do the karate kung fu dance in this tarantula documentary. Now I'm watching them shock the damn spiders with electrical wires in order to have them spit out venom. Huh...I bet Tom Cruise and Katie DO have a baby monkey.

Cristobal Corazon

Slow down, oh beating heart
Pace yourself, the end is near
Take deep breaths, minutes apart
The time has come for no more fear

Think of silence, oh pensive ticker
Refuse to let the outside in
Conserve in ye, that vital flicker
Be not hasty, you need not win

Immerse yourself in peaceful dreams
Oh faded heart with broken wings
Embrace the shine of moonlight beams
Slow to a stop, you silly thing.

That’s it! Follow this rhythm
Let my falling tears, be your sync
Sleep at peace, sleep with hymns
Of love’s eternal missing link.
Be still, fluttering heart...

tomorrow you fly away.

Yari 09

Hello, Smiles

I sit here, tracing the thin yellow line in a pattern over this old wooden table. In my head I am making little car noises as I pretend the lines are little highways leading me nowhere. My feet barely reach the floor, swinging them away with some random rhythm that I notice matches a song that's playing in the background. I hear her hands working hard peeling the bananas and mashing them. I raise my head a fraction, so I can look at her. Even at that age, in my head I am thinking "God I hope I remember this exact second forever." I do. Her hair is snow white, even though she's only in her late 50's. She's biting her lower lip on the right corner as she concentrates on her task, a habit I inherited from her. Her arms jiggle as she forcefully keep peeling green bananas, and I look at her freckles...the way her arm shakes. She catches me looking, smiles at me and asks 'What?'. I giggle, and stick my tongue out at her. She gestures me to come over, and when I'm close enough she kisses my cheek and gives me the first batch of dough to put in the kitchen. I know the drill. Take it and bring a new bowl, as fast as I can without dropping anything...which is an amazing task for a clumsy child.

I sit back down, next to her this time. She knows what I want, and that is a story. The same stories of her adventures when she was growing up. Stories that make me hang on to every word even though I've heard them hundreds of times before. Stories that make her get this mischievous sparkle in her eye, almost evil. So I wait quietly, as she starts...ahhh...the one where she stole her mom's money and went to get a perm. I can't believe she did that! Did you really not come home that night grandma?! You're so crazy. You slept on the mango tree?! Ha, ha, ha! I'm gonna remember this forever grandma, I promise. Aww, no time for another? Ok...

I want to remember you like this always. But there you lay, still...cold. Your casket is beautiful, a dusty rose color with porcelain roses on the corners. You're wearing the beautiful ivory dress you wore to the wedding a few months ago. The youngest of your sons, he danced with you most of the night. You look the same as you did, but sleeping, pale. It is you in there...freckles are the same, your lips, the nail polish I had put on your hands 2 days ago was still the same.

It was NOT your time yet. I hate that you are not going to hum around the house during Christmas time. That you never saw me graduate...or met my first boyfriend and automatically categorized him as an asswipe. That you never saw me get married...and that you left me. But I will see you soon, Nana. I want to hear about the time you broke the church bell and it rolled downhill and over the priest's foot...hahaha...*sigh* I need you.

Online Fun with my Lil Brother :)

This happened on a lazy work afternoon, while taking a break from my never ending blahjob. My little brother Shane has a habit of getting into weird rap battles, or typing battles, or throwing food battles...he met his match :)

darknesss: lets have a freestyle rap battle

darknesss: ready?

Baboon: ready

darknesss: WORD homie i am the orginal gangster the ornginal prankster, i am jew, but i can rap just like you

Baboon: LMFAO

Baboon: hahaha

darknesss: your face smells like the flu
darknesss: and given enough time it will look like YOU

darknesss: OOOOOOOOOH

Baboon: listen up homie g, im your girl yari...i aint no jew but i spit at you

Baboon: cuz u bring home ur rap and its sounds just like crap

Baboon: then u start with the face

Baboon: when urs is a disgrace
Baboon: OOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHH

darknesss: if your a pureto rican you proabley smell like chicken and you can't rap worth a crap because takes skills and not looking like a box of pills

darknesss: OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH

Baboon: LMAO
Baboon: hahahaha

Baboon: dont be dissin on my spanish when ur lamer than a danish, that's been sittin in the sun, youre a rapper? you wish son! Now go back to yer hole with your FACE and giant mole.

artofdarknesss: LOL

darknesss: okay listen up hermana word up, you rap like a poltican gone corrpt, i know that makes no sense, but neither does your face looking like a fence

Baboon: werd up jewish holmes, you be talkin like a gnome, with its hat up his ass-battle me? i aint yer class. Broken fence?, youre face is dense. Step back lil man, cuz i openin a can.

darknesss: lol

darknesss: omg your good at this

darknesss: most people dont catch on

Baboon: u be battlin da best

darknesss: i think i ran out of steam, maybe you can get me running again if you know what i mean, your face is a carrot, and you talk like a parrot!

Baboon: Your FACE ran out of steam, like a hooker with a dream, best be smart and step down, i be dissin ya you clown, speakin of cracka birds, yer still the king of nerds!

darknesss: i aint stepping down from the crown, your mama was a hoe back in the day, when she rolled in the hay
darknesss: i may be a nerd but at least i am not a turd!

Baboon: OH so we messin with da mamas? yours smells like a llama, she got hit more than a keg, come on know you know she beg, so flush yerself you lil terd, dont be messin with mine werd!

darknesss: Oh hush your little mouth, you little pureto rican from the south, if you think your so good, your face looks like a pile of wood

Baboon: lil brotha dat was whack, like a hobo outta crack. i know im good, dont think to think, your face be lookin kinda pink? whatsa matta? need some watta? here your ass in a silver platta! woooooooo

darknesss: that made me laugh really loud, but at least my head isn't a fart cloud, i'll tell yo what is wack, you are good at this and thats a fact?

Baboon: its a fact, that you lack, what ya need, to succeed, nows da time, for muh rhyme, to let it clear yer not near, to my throne, here's a bone. silly hater, try me later!

We're not Gonna Be Friends...Are We?

Tracing my fingertips slightly,
Softly against your pillow lips,
Getting lost...swimming in your eyes
A Perfect picture of quiet bliss.

Sunlight breaks through the window,
It's dream-like beam lighting your face
My eyes roaming every inch...every freckle
My broken chest fills up with a silent grace.

The world may crash, and chaos may reign
What time is it out there? Who cares, I'm not alone
Our peaceful corner, this eternal bed
This is all we need to feel at home.

Your touch sends electric currents...jabs
all the way down my back, oh lord, down my legs
My breath ragged, against your neck
Aching for a release, my body begs.

No! Why is the room growing dim?!
Your touch slowly fades, Where did you go...
I see, I have been dreaming again
Mind be damned, I can't let you go.

-Yari 09

I'm not Confusing...really...ish.

I am really not that complicated.

I am just my own worst enemy.

I am shy, despite the front I give everyone. Sure I am the life of the party, the comedian and entertainer...but what you don't know is that inside I am having the mother of all panic attacks and I am struggling to not faint. Meeting new people scares me because in my head what could I possibly have to offer that they would make me an asset?

I can't do large crowds, or walking in the mall. I feel like every eye on the place is on me. I feel out of place. Like millions of others in the world feel I guess. I am not unique. Sure I'm always putting myself down, limiting myself, playing down my good qualities...but today I got to thinking...I'm a pretty badass bitch.

I love so intensely, not like obsessive love...chill ok? I'm talking with anyone! Family, friends...significant other...I want them to see my heart...I want them to see I would never hurt them, ever. I rather suffer a billion times over myself than ever hurt anyone. I try my best to be a good person, to show my love every chance I get. I help all I can, as a friend, as a listener, as just plain ole company.

I am not confusing, just confused.