when..
When I get upset, I shut down. I feel like I should be crying or screaming or something but I can’t because i’m turned off. I go silent and don’t talk very much. I just sit there and think.
#this
March 2012
42 posts
Back Door
on minute the sun was shining the next there were clouds I was stranded at my back door I rang the bell and no one answered out for the day I looked up and the clouds closed in surely the storm was next but all I could remember was the sun shining now I’m left stranded at my backdoor clouds rolling in
Mitt Romney: I Can Relate To Black People, My Ancestors Once Owned Slaves →
freewoodpost.com
“I understand how difficult it can be for an African-American in today’s society. In fact, I can relate to black people very well indeed. My ancestors once owned slaves, and it is in my lineage to work closely with the black community. However, just because they were freed over a century ago doesn’t mean they can now be freeloaders. They need to be told to work hard, and the incentives just aren’t there for them anymore. When I’m president I plan to work closely with the black community to bring a sense of pride and work ethic back into view for them. “
i don’t even…..
………..
iCant
Bully
A long time ago I beat a kid up
A long time ago
The kid wouldn’t shut up
I punched and I kicked to knock the kid down
I yelled and I spit to make the kid frown
I wanted this kid’s life to be a living hell
And I started to succeed when the kid began to fail
The kid believed my words when I yelled “fag”
The kid sat in a room because they were sad
Crying and moping all the day long
And I smiled because I knew the kid wasn’t strong
Somewhere along the line I’d begin to see
That the kid I tortured all along….was me
“I don’t feel like myself lately. I feel inadequate.”
—Fresh Thoughts
Traveling
Its the smell of bleach on strange pillows
The hum of plastic wheels on concrete
One endless road after another
Its gripping the wheel knowing you’re in charge of precious cargo
Its the wind blasting in and out of your ears
The swiping of cards
Sandwiches made at rest stops
20 degree nights in cars awaking with aching bones
Making a fool of yourself for the perfect picture
Recording your own concerts in tight spaces
Writing postcards you’ll probably never send
Endless pregnant pauses that mean nothing, but are more than comforting
Fighting over the temperature of a room
Frustration
Then getting over that frustration because there’s nowhere else to go
Roaming charges and text messages
Face time and voice mails
’80s movies on a continuous loop on TVs that you don’t own
Majestic mountains and deserts that stretch into oceans
Rolling hills and popping ear drums
Planetary alignments, full moons, and bright blue skies
Its a full car driving over roadkill
Sharp turns and steep inclines
Chain restaurants and bottled water
Gas stations, gas stations, gas stations
Slushies, cheetos, twizzlers and candy bars
Comfy beds you hate to leave
Stretching, yawning, cracking knuckles
Its the life you’ve chosen and its making you smile
