Sep 20

is this society?

i sit
pressed in between the two of them. 
they're in hysterics, 
tapping their phone screens
to airdrop memes back and forth. 
if i'm not mistaken, 
these are all things they have all already seen. 
are they hilarious just because airdropping...
automatically makes things funnier? 
my parents used to look out at my brother and his friends
as they sat side by side on the porch
phones to their faces
and make exclamations of disgust
that phones had replaced face-to-face communication. 
and as much as i may think
that adults are a little bit phobic about technology, 
this seems sad. 
to come all this way
to lunch break
away from class
and to see people you sometimes don't see at all
the whole rest of the day
just to sit here staring at your phone
airdropping memes. 
and it feels awfully...
Sep 19

and the less coherent part of my mind comes to the forefront...

i'm starting to think there should be a genre of poetry in my honor called "leaky brain overwrought spills" or something. does that already exist?

i don't know why i titled this soup
maybe life feels soupy right now
whatever the hell soupy feels like
i think for some reason i've come to call soup
synonymous with confusion. 
it's like a confusion 
that's less actively not knowing
and more wailing, swimming thoguhts
they drown sometimes
that don't make any sense. 
like how
you know those moments when you get so tired of being you?
they tell you to be yourself
it'll make you feel better
but myself is stagnant. 
is there a myself? 
i come to  think of myself
as more an empty walking head
full of characters in stories
like i'm just a character in my own
boring story
except i'm the kind you don't care about
and my egotism
Sep 15

brief history of montmaray REWORKED beginning

same book. 
couple things: first, YES i am giving you nineteen pages of screenplay. i have no shame. 
second, this is a reworked version of the montmaray thingy that i wrote a while ago. i got a comment on it today and thought, oh hey, i rewrote this even better! why not put the new one up to compare! it might be even worse. just another version. 
third, it cuts off abruptly because i left it in the middle of a scene and didn't bother coming back and the books went back to the library so i didn't keep going. 
potentially enjoy? 
not my ideas, based off the novel series by michelle cooper


Title: “A Brief History of Montmaray. by Veronica FitzOsborne.”


Fragments of a ship are washing up onto the beach. Clinging to one of them is a well-dressed and bedraggled man: SIR BARTHOLOMEW FITZOSBORNE.
Sep 14


i was going
to write. 
i had all these ideas
swimming around in my head. 
then i sat down at the computer
cued up my music
and stared at my google docs homescreen. 
brain blank. 
it oozed away
just like my time does
into nothing. 
empty head
and so, so many
half-finished documents
Sep 13

made this

a song. i'm worried that i stole the melody from somewhere but i don't think i did, i think i just took inspiration from somewhere. 
anyways. hope it's all right. i want to make it a little less chunky and transition from section to section better. and i should really just permanently turn down the glock...
Sep 11

a couple poems i wrote in school

so i started high school just recently. which has been weird. and i haven't gotten to write anything, or thought of anything that i want to write. these are two poems i scribbled out while bored in ACE block, which aren't really relevant to anything but they helped me to relax. so, voila. here. 

ACE block
and i don't fit here
among these people
older, more experienced
me a small insignificant dot
out of her depth
oh why did i think
i could handle

decisions, having to make them
like they're nothing
(they are)
but that dosn't mean they don't
for some reason
frighten me. 
out in the halls
passing time over
but people still hurry back and forth
shrieking laughter
high-pitched chattering voices.
(is everyone in this whole wing
...i already had a headache. 
i haven't bothered
trying to fit in
Sep 04


i felt naked
watching my hair wash down the bathtub drain. 
like i was having something stripped away from me. 
my legs looked pale and defenseless,
the skin too smooth. 
not like me. 
not like me at all. 
the little freckle on my right shin
too large
too prominent
i didn't want this. 
didn't want to have to shave my legs. 
i would have been content
to remain an eternal gorilla.
at least in terms of hair. 
but i'm told that society demands
that the only acceptable place for hair
is the top of my head
and i know that i live in a climate
where wearing jeans all year
will make me unhappy
and demand that i feel
as though i am hiding something. 
but my legs look all wrong
i feel as though i have lost something. 

Sep 04

a few more songs

Sep 03

the floor/london aftermath

the floor
does not want to stay flat and still
like a floor should. 
it bobs and shifts under me. 
my head feels kind of wobbly. 
too much time on a plane
preceded by lots of time on public transportation? 
or maybe it was all the elevators. 
"door opening."
"door closing."
"tenth floor."
"going up." 
that robotic voice
just lodges in your ears. 
too much time
being the only sober person
in a room full of drunken adults
i just wanted to be alone somewhere quiet
wandering through the churchill war rooms
too tired to be impressed
the audio guide made me feel like a sheep. 
even chocolate cigars
could hardly revitalize me. 
hundreds of different languages
wrapping all around, 
almost overpowering. 
giacometti exhibit, 
long thin figures
that look like they're heaving to stay upright,
Sep 01


is such a funny idea.
not bad, 
just sometimes puzzling. 
how some people
you are conditionally told
to love more than others 
how there are so many
and only that one word
to describe them all.
and how some people
cant see it
and others 
and how the words
"i love you"
can feel like a terrible burden
or a gift. 
and how sometimes
youncant even
identify it. 

is is such a funny idea...
or maybe i only think that
because I can't have a thiught
without thinking
about that thought and thinking
 about my thoughts
about the thought
and on and on. 
and think all sorts of thoughts
most of which are 
too incomprehensible
to write here.
but i do wonder
what all the fuss is
why people fall in love
with the concept of love