'Summer Dance'

I hope nobody saw me pick up the cigarette butt off the sidewalk, but I'm all out and getting shaky and it's a nice long one, with just a smudge of lipstick from the old bird who dropped it when her bus pulled up.






Good-she doesn't know. Everything's okay.

"i did it to teach them a lesson."

I almost feel like ripping the book into tiny shreds of paper so that I can throw them into my fireplace, hoping that the character would feel the pain that all the others experienced when they came home that day to find the dreadful thing they had seen.

read, and you'll know.

the striking of a hand, the beatings, the name calling. It all seems like a nightmare to me, but I still know that it all exists. It's so sad. The tales of abusive men and the beatings of the women with weak hearts, but only because the men have made them feel that they have weak hearts. I cry when I hear stories of men beating their girlfriends and wives. Are you really a man? Does it make you feel more powerful and have the strength to sleep through the night? If you have answered yes to both questions then I regret ever meeting with you or even having the chance to discuss these matters with you. You will never understand the entire feelings that flood through our very veins when we hear of such things like this.


"oh, edward, please do not tell me that." Her mother's voice was shrill, pitiful, as if on the edge of the windowsill.
"yes, you are, God be my witness, a whore and worse, worse than a whore. You are a terrible person."



Why do i feel such overwhelming vengeance when it comes to things such as this? I have been called these names by men that I have thought were actual men, whom I thought had hearts and whom I thought would understand the seriousness of it all. They were cowards and I only express deep hate for them.

Do you remember reading about the girl who wanted to keep her place at the club, so she let her girlfriend take the boy she wanted. But even though she fell into submission, the boy and girl still knew that they had noticed each other. I read that story. Did you? It was so truthful. I feel that I need to write a story about my life that I feel is so truthful to the bone that it would ruin my reputation, even if it didn't ruin my reputation, it would ruin who I've wished to become.

We have all of these social network websites that it is so rare not to know the names facebook, myspace, tumblr and twitter. I find them all highly annoying. I've been on all of them except for one; how ironic. I'm slowly losing my confidence as I am on each one. The more the trends keep going, the more we all follow each other on another website.

As I woke up today, I felt that my world was melting. The night before I had experienced a emotional breakdown that could only come from the thought of my future. I woke up and tried to picture myself in a comfortable world. My boyfriend was still asleep and I felt foreign to myself. My body wasn't mine and I knew it was going to take a toll on my emotional state. I wandered around the house wondering what I would be doing today. I couldn't go over my boyfriend's house because my dad was home. He wouldn't allow me visiting him again. It's almost every weekend that I go over. I wonder if he notices. If he does, well then cheers. If he doesn't, I'm shit out of luck. My mom tells me to wait to see him tomorrow. I'm fine with this idea, it would be nice to spend Halloween with him anyway. I come back to the computer and hear that my phone has received a text. "Baby i love you." It's from him. I reply and the next text message reads, "text me bitch." I hate when he calls me a bitch more than I have ever hated anything that he does. I rarely ever hate anything that he does so this is a big deal to me. Every time I hear it, I try to come up with something that will trigger anger in him, but it's very rare that he gets mad too. Actually that's not true, he gets mad at almost everything. Already the day feels like it's falling apart and I feel that I am not myself in any way possible. I bring my breakfast into my room and hope that we don't fight. We do. We fight over him buying another vinyl. When will the fighting end? Who knows. I stop eating my breakfast from the sick feeling i get when I find us fighting. Immediately after, I find out that the family will be taking a trip down to my grandparents house. I start to wonder what I'm going to wear. New boots or skirt or try to find a shirt that is decent enough to wear, but I hope that I wont have to resort to wearing my new shirt. At the same time as I am thinking of these things, I'm also thinking about 50 other million things too. It's ridiculous how much I can think. I wonder if I go to a psychologist and I tell them how much I think and how quick something can trigger and never ending thought process of stories after stories and scenarios after scenarios and a million other things, if she would say I had something psychologically wrong with me. I'm sure we all have something wrong with us. You're selfish, I'm indecisive. As the day goes on my confidence level drops. It dwindles to about 20%. I find my thought process running at a maximum speed when I am the most vulnerable. I don't want to go on facebook. I do not want to check my twitter. I almost feel uncomfortable being around my own family. This isn't depression. I'm not sad. I'm not unhappy. I don't think about all of the bad things that could and should happen to me. I just like to think about the happy and sad all at once. So much of it makes my emotions run high and low and all around to the point where I feel confused and uncomfortable because I'm not sure what to be at the moment. Why am I telling you this? I'll be the only one reading it anyway... I tell you because this is the only sense of help that I'll get and it's the only one that I can prescribe to myself. When I am writing, there is only one thought in my head: GET OUT EVERYTHING THAT YOU ARE THINKING ABOUT AT ANY MOMENT THROUGH THE MEDIUM OF WORDS. And that is exactly what I do. I don't know how many typos I naturally have when I am writing. I bet if I let myself keep writing and writing without stopping and backspacing, that my words would almost be unreadable. That's how quick my mind changes. It has no time to think about grammar and silly things called periods, it just wants to be heard. Am I selfish in this way? Possibly. But i'm not looking for someone to judge me or to tell me to stop feeling this way because most of the time, it doesn't work. I don't stop and I don't care what one thinks because either way, I'll get back to this point some day. Am I really done? Nope. But this is where I stop because my fingers hurt and another good song is coming on. I leave you with this until next time. Don't tell me who you are, I'd rather not know.

I have heard that you should never write about writing. I heard that it makes it lose its significance. I almost feel like I should write about it because that's the only way ill be able to say that I beat every rule that I have ever followed. I read that a writer's world is dangerous, it refrains from keeping the truth. It may keep the truth, but it may not. You're just as screwed as everyone else. The great vengeance of the french revolution may never live. you will never experience the sight of marie antoinette's head being removed from the very top of her neck. But just as the power will not exist, the weakness will no longer live as it has lived in reality. Reality to a writer can live in his or her's characters or it can live in his or her own life. It only depends on the sanity. Keep your mouth closed. Write what you need to. Don't follow any rules. Keep it simple at first and then become empowered with the verbs, adjectives, and nouns. Let them complicate your life. Live a happy life and if not, create one.

reality hooks onto my brain. it seems as though it will fill every crevice with the daring truth and it will break all the honesty i have left in me. i'm laying here listening to stars and resting my head on my pillow at 12:20 in the morning.


i lay here thinking about everything i have at this exact moment. it'll all go away some day. why have i thought so much about this? i'm crying now.
my room will no longer be my room. my home will no longer be my home. bills will flood my mail box and my life will be spent trying to find a man to accompany me to the grooves of the rest of my life. all of these silly relationships wont mean much when we get to the real world. i find myself losing sight of the relationship i'm in because im looking too far into the future. i'm constantly saying, "why keep doing this when you wont be the one for me in the future?"
why have i become so negative? it's not negativity, its reality.
i'll have to start my career as soon as i start school. i have to find my life's path. my own house. my own couch. my own bed. my own pet to keep me warm at night.
my husband will know im independent and he will be happy that i am everything that i am. why does being young have to be so easy?
i think too much for my own good.
stop dreaming allyson.
im only looking into the reality of my life.

Friendship thrown into a vast amount of pitfalls.

how many times are you going to leave it all hanging? will the words stop falling out of your mouth? will all of those syllables make any sense to you anymore? countless promises wasted on fast times. the purpose of that relationship was to make me grow and to make mistakes but the more i step inside the story, the more i feel like the whole thing was a mistake.


a bleak world full of clouds and monotonous tones. i cover my ears as the wave lengths from jupiter sound on the am side and i scream for help. what are you trying to do to me? the glare of the other cars leaves me in a state that is unreadable. tell me the story of the stars and tell me when theyll leave. the city lights blind them and theyve been showing for light years.


so many things take control and yet here i am writing. here i am pretending to be something im not. here i am trying to be a writer. you cant write. youre clever with your words. words can always have two different meanings. you know what you got. you have it. you dont know how to use it. stop pretending to be the epitome of a star. youll never get anywhere the tainted hopes that you carry in your head. you hold onto them like a stubborn child.



does this all make sense?

dim lights.

the glare of the shining light blinds those who speak.

never have i heard of such a home that contains so much soul.

i was once lost under a rock that only contained me and my words

embarrassed of everything i wrote. tired of hiding the pages in drawers and under bed sheets

you see when i discovered the steps to this place that led into a room full of intent people who understood, i became whole.

no judging. just words. just soul. just emotion. just reality.

when has there ever been a home for what i love?

my room is what contained my emotions but as soon as I walked out, they were disguised.

"THAT ISNT A PROFESSION. THAT ISNT A HOBBY. THAT ISNT A JOB. THAT IS NOTHING! THAT IS GOOD TIME BEING WASTED"

the words got to me. the things that i loved most tricked me into hating them all at the same time.

i was some abnormal being who had nothing in common with others.

dim lights. i barely even know you but youve become part of me in such a short time.

i never feel out of place.

i listen to my peers. i listen to elders. i listen to people who are just like me.

these words are what make all of us free.

When are you going to realize that it's never going to be perfect?

If this isn't worth your time or energy, you aren't worth mine.

Give me one to remember:

Piles of bricks line the streets.

The rubble causes dust to flow through out the air like pixie dust, except no one can fly.

Have you seen the bodies?

They're all peaceful.

Falling from the buildings, colliding and telling stories of love and trajedy.

It's the marble cake system. It's in our blood.

If only we were angels.

Same three letters gave us what we wanted. same three letters took it away.

remember the bridge you fought so hard for?

It's gone.

It is nothing but small pieces of brick with dirt lodged in the cracks.

The river no longer flows.

The moon stays and the sun never shows its face. It is afraid.

We've created a domino affect.

1

2

3

the bigger the numbers, the louder the cries.

4

5

6

imagination. oh yeah, it was just a dream.

your eyes awaken and it's finally clear.

it won't be ending any time soon but we should all be prepared.

"why prepare for tomorrow when tomorrow didn't prepare for us?"

my shoes are lined up at the door.

they wait for me to drag them through the dirt and the experienced concrete.

how long have you seen the light of day?

dreams only last but a few minutes. the chemicals still flow.

be honest, did you ever think I'd see it all?