She called. Monday, May 15 2023 

the late night write , , , , , , , lostkitty420 8:09 am

There are no heros

There are no villains

Just people

The ones that hold you up

& The ones that keep up at night

 

The Window In The Bathroom Thursday, Feb 23 2023 

life is a jumbled poem and the late night write , , , , , , , , , , , lostkitty420 4:12 am

Sitting nude next to an open window
on the 7th floor
& I have a joint in my fingers
I don’t normally drink gin
but it was purple
& I do love the color
I don’t know if I prefer to sway over the hot bath
or the cold street
I don’t know if I want someone to look up or if I wish to fall down
All I’m sure of
is that I shouldn’t be smoking this joint in the apartment.
   

–A

 

Music, mist, and a long commute. Wednesday, Feb 26 2020 

life is a jumbled poem and storys , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , lostkitty420 4:52 pm

Its raining in Brooklyn and I’m walking to the train
It’s not heavy rain
It’s the kind of mist you dont feel until it rolls down your cheek
I’m listening to an old playlist
Sometimes you need the music of you’re youth
For me that was a wide range
Some of it I’d already missed but non the less were playing just as loud and often in my road trip of life
I watch my train leave me behind on its elevated track
I skip All American rejects
Swing swing is too upbeat for someone now late for work
As the sounds of a strumming guitar starts I consider skipping again
But I cant do that to stevie
My mom loved Stevie Nicks
And I over many house cleaning jams outs
And viewings of practical magic with her and my sister
I learned of her musics soothing and emotion invoking power
As if you ever did belive comes to a close
I swipe my metro and begin my decent into the subway station
Stevie leaves my ears and my hood falls from my head
I wipe the mist from my glasses
As I do this I realize I’ve been crying
I’m still crying
I didn’t even notice
a short Jewish woman is looking at me
the next train isnt comming for 7 minutes
And I’m not sure why I’m crying but now that my brain is aware my body is holding nothing back
I’m sobbing in ernest and it isnt quiet
It’s that hiccuping cry like all my sobs were late to the party and are now trampling over each other to get out first
I’m about to give in and be that outwardly emotional rider makeing everyone’s commute uncomfortable when faith hill comes on
This kiss in all its upbeat glory is blasting goofy nostalgic memories into my head and now not only am I crying
I’m crying while laughing
I’ve good from emotional to borderline villainy in the eyes of the my fellow commuters on the platform
This is going to be a long ride

 

Parody poetry Friday, Dec 27 2019 

songs and limericks , , , , lostkitty420 4:49 pm

I’m an almost adult girl

I read books and work and dream

I care to much about the government

So I really need a hug

I feel stupid

Ugly

I pretended it doesn’t get to me

For a girl I’m pretty strong

And I’ll fuck you up if you’re mean

To dogs.

 

The calm. Tuesday, Jan 15 2019 

men suck , , , , , lostkitty420 5:40 am

For all the Furry a scorned woman can bring, a contemplative one is far more dangerous. when we are angry we Act rashly, we inflict the maximum damage with minimal strikes. Quickly and regretfully before we can think better,  just in time to mirror our rage. Yet it is the collected and calculated anger that is the one to fear. we can be deadly when given time to seek out the root of what we hold the most contempt for. The concocted ingredients creating the Posein of your displeasure. the error in the recipe you see so clearly, all its miscalculations coming into place. she can see what she missed. to make a does safe for those who have tasted it before but not for a virgin toung.  so I pray you yourself have not poured any elixir of ill intent. I pray you have not swept under the rug the night before only to come and sit at her table. for to do so is to be the target of a calm woman’s displeasure. if I was you, I would take the anger.