Roommate From Hell

The roommate from hell knocks on doors, whistles loudly.

Shuffled feet, swishy pants fill the wooded hallway.

Knock two times, thrice he opens my door

his woolly hair massing together in a type of Jewish fro.

That breaks my concentration,

my frustration boils over.

Answering his pointless questions with short answers,

as he gallivants forth.

"Hey I never noticed that quilt before," he chatters unaware

that the tops of my arms are shivering, on end hair.

"I don't know where it came from," I answer back,

hoping he'll get the message and GET THE FUCK OUT!

Charges due

Charges due on that history of journalism class
That droned on and on for three hours
My fingertips aching from typing out odes
To Benjamin Franklin and some guy that died in a snowstorm

To learn history so dryly is a cruel thing
Something no esteemed professor should commit
A crime against our fore fathers
School taken for granted once again

A concrete room with no windows
To gaze out of when the past got tough
Enough to lift my fingers from the keypad
And sit placidly, like a lake bed for mosquitoes
Enough, enough, enough

Charges due on the class I dropped
So easily a fortnight ago
Using my spare time on Wednesday nights
To speak German and write poems
About crimes against humanity
Historically speaking

Charges due later this evening

Fingernails

The dirt between my fingernails is removable
Shaking a keyboard upside down never did anyone any good
Just got food crumbs and dust all over a clean counter top

I wonder how many fingers have touched this keyboard
Dirty fingernails and all
On the third floor of library West

Staring at dual screens dreaming of magnolia trees
That protect my bare feet
And how sometimes I like the sprawl of a suburban city
With its pockets of goodness that are so hard to find
But sweet like a persimmon seed, over too soon

Sometimes I can't decide
What is good for me or not
So I shake my head and scream at my Dad for not understanding
Warum kannst du nicht mich verstehen?!
And I wonder at my German, and if I'm really all that great at it.

If I'm actually destined for greatness, or if it's all just a facade

Maaaarrmmaalllaaaade
On a hot Florida day, the mosquitoes even stay away
from an un-screened porch that smokes from the heat
The cloth chairs warming my achy thighs
From biking all those miles

Where the sweet tea bubbles on the mosaic table
The ice has long since melted away
Life seems too good to sit around
And wonder if you're living up to everyone's standards
Wondering if and when, how and where, why and what

Digging around in the dirt
One day I'll clean my fingernails

bruised apple

bruised apple
punctured hole
carried from Tallahassee by a lassie
to remind her of home

of organic gardens
coffee shops tucked away
a perfect bruise makes her want to stay
to remind her that nothing is perfect
except the place
she grew up in

yet she feels the need to face
a different world
unlike her own
although a bruised apple
believes every place is home

Onion Breath

Onion breath

Permeating the pockets of my mouth

Wafting down my throat

The scent seeping through my teeth

Inhaling sweet air

Exhaling sweet onion breath

I brush my teeth

But it doesn’t help

Onion toothbrush bristles

Scrubbing at yellowed teeth

Scratching the enamel with onion scent

Scraping the tongue with onion hairs

Onion breath

Fickle-uality

Fickle.

That word never meant anything to me until I broke the heart of the boy I loved.

Twice I broke his heart, and fickle was my excuse.

I was not fickle when the freshman

A year younger than I

met me at the gazebo near the lake

Where the wind had not yet picked up.

I sat coolly on the railing, my right leg dangling in the tall grass

He approached me cautiously and I took his lips

knowing he would surrender them to me.

Knowing I had caught his heart

and I have yet to know what that means.

To hold a heart so tenderly in your hands

the slightest word can pierce the muscle

What a cruel girl I was to ignore him

when he approached me days later.

There was another boy that felt me up

in the dewy field.

It felt nice for a moment

Then I was done

Done with him

On to a new adventure.

Because holding a heart in your hands is too heavy

and it was better to let it go.

"You don't owe me anything," he said nonchalantly

over the phone

His voice reduced to a monotonous whisper.

To feel your heart beat fast,

your breath quicken and salt-water

well up in your eyes means something right?

Frantically I searched the Web

Depression does reduce your sexuality

Does suppress your libido

Either that or makes you want it more

Which one am I?

Who has the answers?

I want to keep searching for the answers

Because

Life is not short

Life is long

because it goes on forever

And ever and ever and ever

Pants Are For Losers

If I think about it too much, words are hard to find. How is the university student supposed to stay alert and imaginative when they don't even have time to read a book? Sure, I have time, but my mind is already so mushy from hours of work, that internet TV is the only thing I can handle...and sleeping. Not to mention I'm not eating that much, and because of that I've gained enough weight to not be able to fit into my size 2 pants? That's a lot of freakin' pants I can no longer wear! Oh, and the financial troubles. I have a feeling those kinds of troubles are here to stay.

My German workbook is still glaring at me, even though I completed the work over the course of this week. I'm out of studying ideas! It's not like you can read a bunch of German sentences over and over again and get the "gist" of it. I did, however, go to a German language meetup down at Cafe Gardens, a quaint little restaurant/bar situated in an ivy-covered courtyard with stones inlaid in the dirt. My German teacher Sarah told the class about it earlier today, and Nathaniel convinced me over the phone it'd be a good idea to go. I'm glad I went. I realized I need to get out more and show my face in this town that will be my home for the next two years.

Ich bin eine Studentin. Ich studiere Journalismus. Ich wohne in Gainesville aber ich komme aus Tallahassee.

I wonder if I'll stick with German that long, I hope so. I really need to know a second language. Every other person in the world (albeit for America) does.

Well, I'm going to sign off and immerse myself in this depression over my pants. My ten pairs of practically new pants.