New Poem: Rott Iron Chairs

This is about me looking for love in all of the wrong places.

Chair by chair we sit aligned. Green
at the sides the iron grows tired
and worn.

I wanted to sit close,
comfortable. Close enough
to touch far enough to seem
apathetic. After all, he did.

Giving just enough looks,
enough winks to keep me
convinced. Convinced that the light
had hit me differently. Convinced
that I was different than the rest.

We sat side to side.
No eye contact needed. Strictly
Business. Risky business.
Enough to take it outside.

My nervously electrified breath
Clashed with the summer night’s
Speckled sky. Eyes drawing to a close,
I let my head roll back. My position punched
the poison that filled my lungs toward my spine.

Cough.
That’s okay.
Cough.
One more baby, you got it.

If I took it—I got it.
One more hit was all I needed.
Just another way to
Melt my way into a trance where I was
Beautiful. In a different way.
The unique way—
hard way.

The kind of beauty that you had to
Work for. Look for. The kind you had to
Find.

That was something I’ve always wanted
But never really got. Something that kept
Lurking on my imaginary wish list.
And since Santa never gave it to me,
I tried to buy it my self.

So I tried to act shy
Try to act loud
Try to act broken
Try to act like
I’ve never been kissed.
Try to act all dirty
Yeah babe, I’ve done it all.

But its too easy to act and
too hard to actually be.
But that night I was who I wanted
To be.

Who I was. Just like you—
A bad kid with a mystery.
Rebel without a cause—
Just like you.

Wait…is that really me?
I don’t remember
I can’t remember

All I know, with everything
I’m still all alone. But I’ll just sit here
And act like you want me too.
Sitting comfortably in two
Uncomfortable chairs. With you.

Looking past whatever I remembered.
Recording a memory that will play
On repeat until I realize.

But I’ll find another drum. One with a
Bitterly welcoming beat. To keep my
Brain convinced that I’m that type of
Beautiful. That alone with forever
Trick my brain into believing that
I’m not alone.

Phoebe and Jay Preview

Preview to my screenplay:

In the heart of New York City, two best friends, Phoebe Bomgeorge and Jay Lepstick, attend Horace Green College Prep School, located in the upper east side of Manhattan, one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in New York City. At Horace prep, the students remain busy. Much of their time relies on correcting and perfecting their applications, college admission essays, and résumés. When the students aren’t hitting the books, they are often found at expensive philanthropy dinners hosted by a clan of robots, or in other words, their professional mothers.

Phoebe and Jay’s mothers never quite fit into this category—resulting in them giving birth to the two “weirdest girls in school.” Phoebe’s mother is very quiet. Much of her life was spent catering to her husband, Dominick. The two work for a multi-million dollar stock firm which keeps them busy, and away from home. Neither parent has the time or energy to discipline Phoebe and her little misdemeanors, leaving Phoebe to feel neglected when not with Jay, or Jay’s family.

Phoebe tries to mask her family’s neglect by using verbal irony and bluntness. She tends to come off stuck up to others at her school, but she doesn’t seem to care. She lives with her bare necessities, one of them being best friends with Jay. Phoebe believes that quality is much better than quantity. For as much money as Phoebe and her family have, she tends to keep her outer-image on the down low. She has very light, almost transparent skin. Her dark eyes and black hair make a beautiful contrast. Lazy and apathetic, Phoebe never tends to her hair, so she often wears it in tiny pig-tails poking out on each side of her ears. When not wearing her school uniform, you can catch Phoebe in a pair of dark-washed skinny jeans and a plain t-shirt. She has one pair of pink boots that just cover her ankles, they are her signature. Her tiny feet match her small baby-like figure. But her face is mature, developed, and real. Her facial expressions are usually serious, but when Phoebe smiles, it reveals a whole new side of her that people want to know.

Phoebe trusts only one person: and that’s Jay. Jay is what people at Horace consider beautiful but she is too oblivious to notice. She often jokes with people at Horace, but is really making fun of them. Jay loves hearing Phoebe talk—she thinks she’s hilarious. Her happy-go-lucky personality compliments Phoebe’s sarcastic and blunt personality. Standing next to one another, they look beautifully awkward. She has thin light brown hair that often dangles and collects, barely reaching her lower back. Her elongated body, tall and thin, moves steadily, looking careful but proud. Her arms lay by her sides, usually gripping the sides of her jeans, exposing her thin hipbones. Hugging her upper body, she often wears funny t-shirts that read random phrases like: Supreme. Yes, like the taco. The colors coming off of her shirts reflect the golden specks on her cheeks. When the sun hits her face just right, it allows the light to come in through her eyes, making them a transparent sea-foam green. The definition of freckles on her nose matches the bright red-tint to her lips, exposing her two front teeth. All of her mouth shows when she smiles, gums and all, looking giddy and innocent. People at Horace are secretly jealous of Jay because of her happy personality.

Jay’s family is much more welcoming than Phoebe’s, but less wealthy. Jay’s mother is a born and raised New Yorker. She is a hairstylist at a low-budget salon in the inner-city. Her mother always works late hours, but when she’s home she tries to spend most of time with her youngest daughter, Liv. Jay’s father abandoned the family when she was twelve years old. Her mother caught him having an affair with his secretary, and then left the family for his mistress. He still pays a generous amount of child support, but never comes around.

Liv is too young to quite understand why her father left, so Jay tries to keep her away from the answer. Liv loves hanging around Phoebe and Jay, and comes along on many of their adventures. Despite Jay’s efforts to keep Liv away from the truth about life, Liv is already exposed to a lot of the world. She will often make references to MTV and other high-exposure TV networks. Jay tries to force her away from the band-wagon, but it gets harder as the years progress. Because of this, Phoebe and Jay are both very protective of Liv. They look at her as their “little project”.

Though Phoebe and Jay’s families are separate from the popular social group at Horace, they don’t necessarily approve of Phoebe and Jay’s behavior. The two girls are often sent to the dean’s office for various reasons. From squirting water guns at random students in the hallway, to asking teachers if they are getting drunk this weekend—Phoebe and Jay never fail to get in trouble.

Unlike most students at Horace, they don’t find this to hinder their reputation, future, or schedule. Phoebe and Jay simply do the things that they want to do, regardless if it is right or wrong. A lot of the things they do aren’t extremely harmful, but, at Horace, nothing gets by. This is something that Phoebe and Jay’s parents paid the big bucks for—hope that after high school, the two would shape up and become the young ladies that they are.

But being the rebels that they are, Phoebe and Jay’s least concern is just that. They have everything but the intention to be presentable or notable— they want just the opposite. Phoebe and Jay want to be different, whatever that is. Because their parents (mother’s especially) don’t accept their behavior, they act on their neglect, and get themselves into trouble, but to them, it’s just another thing to cross off on their large list of adventures that are waiting to conquer.

My First Official Blog Post

Today, I was forced by my creative writing teacher to read a piece of my writing at a poetry reading hosted by the local borders. Being the spontaneous, crazy, and procrastinating person that I am, I decided to write this poem at 5:30, the reading starting at 7. Anyway, I think it would be cool of you all (whoever that is) to check it out. This poem is about something I had (or thought I had) with a friend that turned out to be nothing. The symbolism of the firefly stands for something that flashes and goes--kind of like a memory. Anyway, I want someone to read it, even if it's one of my sisters. Tell me what you think. 

Firefly

Your fire flutters toward me—like a broken

Butterfly. So small—brightens my day.

Flick to the face—you came out of nowhere.

Still lying together on a heap of

tostled wild weeds.

One spark—it came that night. Taking the risk,

Building a stronger memory—something I tried

To fight. It was the way your eyes opened slowly.

There it was—leading to a burning picture

frame in a forest fire.  The sound of your voice

reminded me of the color green—like your eyes.

I felt the the warmth coming off of baby spark.

I felt it just before the light had escaped.

Leaving a thought up memory trapped in an old

jelly jar abbandonded in an old basement.

The freckles on your nose drew up

a smile on my face. But the mist of unwatched

stares began to remind me of the fire that was

barely burning. The fire that only flicked.

 

Like any type of heat—it only kept warm for a short while.

Because fireflies only fly when the sky feels right.

When seatbets are clicked tight—

When your smile is filled with alluminous light.

 

The flame that once was—probably will never be.

But they always say—you’ll never fly if you’re

afraid to fall.