judy holiday
extremely long storyteller.boom girl. socially awkward social butterfly. lover. procrastinator.
I hate video games
but I love that YOU love them
because it gives ME time to NOT
want to be around you
and think of the things I could do with that time!!!
I could go back to college
I could grow my hair out
I could learn how to use that storage department
beneath the stove top
I could cure PMS
I could keep up with the Kardashians
I could get myself pregnant
I could hold an entire conversation
with you
where you never interrupt me
I could summon my ancestors
and have them teach me
the electric slide
l could write a poem
a book even
and take it on tour
I could deep clean
like real deep
like under the bed deep
I could buy a duster
…and fuckin use it
I could act out the Titanic
movie from beginning to end
I could learn how to roll a blunt
I could find my mother
redevelop a relationship with her
remember why I can’t stand her
and lose her all over again
I could lose all the beer weight
I’ve gained since the conception
of our relationship
and gain it back
I could organize the ice cubes
in the freezer
by height and weight
I could shave our initials into my pubic hair
I could break up with you
have a rebound
and be back home
before you even processed
“we have to talk…”
Baby, i can do all things through the time it takes you to finish a video game…which strengthen me
but instead…
I’ll probably just do
what I always do
and play Words With Friends
with all my exes
when you decide to kill yourself
for real this time
start with a nap
make a full out ugly kirsten dunst cry your foreplay
don’t set an alarm
this may take some time
you’re suicide will give you a few hours grace period
after all you are giving it…your life
when you wake up:
check your phone
there are always those angels
who can feel your depression
in their bones
like old southern women know what fish means in a dream
and exactly who’s belly to point to
search the room for signs:
the note on the dry erase board that tells you to “call your mother”
the pebbles at the bottom of your purse
collected by the child you promised ice cream to next week
the book on the coffee table
that answered all the questions before
things people left behind
the sage
maybe it’s time for cleaning
the leftovers in the refrigerator
maybe you’re hungry and not thinking straight
when children are fussy
sometimes it’s the most obvious things overlooked
trouble shoot:
make the place he last sat and laughed full bodied
not a burial site
but a piece of art work only you can still see
open the windows
maybe you just can’t breathe
or see
with all this dark you’ve curled yourself into
consult the frame holding the picture of your father on the wall
ask him to do what he cannot do wrong and pray
pray in tongues
so you can’t argue against a word that he says
finally, pick the one person
who needs you
like nourishment:
sit down and be quiet
take a pen to paper
and I dare you
to explain to that person
who loves you in your failure
and your glory
why you couldn’t just call
why their love was enough
every day but today
why it couldn’t hold you to this earth
why your relationship
an unsaid promise of support
you broke
because today felt too heavy
tell them why this couldn’t have been fixed
with homemade scones
whiskey
prayer
or the ocean
explain they were wrong about you
being a fighter
because you lost
dare to tell them how you were alone
with their name ever present in your call log
I dare you to repeat alone
despite them being in constant prayer
running laps around your name
explain how you couldn’t be here anymore
in a world only made more beautiful by knowing them
make this letter a debate
until you let your memory win
and when it does…
remember:
your life is a room so full of love
it at times makes you claustrophobic
remember
your mother removed the word “abortion”
from her mouth
because you felt like her biggest accomplishment
before you could even kick
remember
you ARE always given a choice
but you are not always in the right enough mind to do so
No…
do not stay on this planet
because someone needs you
but do not leave it
only remembering yourself
and i know you’re so eager to be idolized
and missed
but obituairies like resumes only get better with time
now:
stop taking yourself so damned serioulsy
watch wedding crashers
enough of it to laugh the cry out of your voice
then call the friend who makes you laugh
well into snorts and weezing
today
do not mention the bottle of pills
there is no more need for rescue
you have safely climbed yourself out of the tree
just settle back in
to living
and re-learn stay
when you arrive an hour late to work:
and your boss is up in arms
don’t be afraid to tell him
“i almost killed myself this
morning…we should just be happy i’m even here”
growing up
the elder church ladies paid tithes to my smile
worthy like good sermon
with candy
and money
I pursed their offerings
like a savings account
unlike the church
I never spent them
to build
cavities
never came until the later years
the sweet tooth
a peer pressure I succumbed to
easier to fall to
than weed
to this day
my father prides himself
on the knowing
that his daughter is not one for the sweets
in the moments I cannot stand him
I want to scream
“chocolate is everything!”
sort of like “i hate you”
knowing 10 seconds after
you do not mean a word of it
today I told him i’ll be working 10 days straight
he asked to borrow money…jokingly
a parent’s reparation
that most do not plan to actually file for
it reminded me of little girl
daddy finding the tithes of old ladies
in a tiny girl’s purse
and asking for me to buy him a car
I agreed
without protest
whole hearted
passed on the piggy bank
like he was owed
for love
for making perfect parts in my hair for sunday school
for showing me off like new suit
for kissing me like stay
in the days to pass
he arrived in a brand new sports car
said I paid for it
in full
a lie
i’d never find to be so…for years
but until i found out
i told everyone who asked
and everyone who didn’t
that i bought that car
today I arrived home to a key in my mailbox
a marketing plot from Toyota to get me into the dealership
and the largest part of me wanted to believe
to bite
like it was chocolate
just so I could honestly declare I did in fact give my daddy a car
without the tithings of old church ladies
there comes a point in every relationship
where the drives home the morning after seem too long
the play lists that once made you break into song
now make you suicidal
the charm becomes predictable and annoying
the things that are easily over looked
suddenly become triggers
and before you know it
the sink filled kitchen turns into a gun range
i love myself
i do
but I think I need some time apart from me
drunk me
in my younger years
i invited drunk me to social occasions
she turned every gathering of losers into Revenge of The Nerds
she drank the bad boys under the table
gave the quiet girls something to scream about
she sucked at beer pong
but made up for it with a killer half time show
but lately
she goes too far
two weeks ago she got into a fight with a thorny bush
while trying to use the “bathroom”
and now I have a scar to prove I lost
for the rest of my life
she texts people we’re supposed to be over
cooks late night snacks with the spinach I told her was for green drinks
she put the laundry detergent in the refrigerator
and I couldn’t find it for hours
she emailed while drunk to 3 different jobs
and agreed to work double shifts for a week straight
she took the AA batteries from the wall clock
which made me late for work the next day
and given the time the clock stopped working
i know EXACTLY what she used those batteries for
she left all four ice trays empty
to make “signature cocktails”
AGAIN using ingredients that were meant for green drinks
using just about every cutting board and glass
and never minded to lift a finger to wash a single dish
she took my car remote into the jacuzzi with her at 3 am
a mistake that could have cost us $500 dollars
that she’s too inebriated to work for
she tweets and instantly we have 10 less followers by morning
one night she went grocery shopping and decided to spend 60 dollars
on the ingredients of a manhattan
because it was too late to properly enjoy one in a bar
she had an Amy Winehouse concert at home
and made an outline of how every song relates to her own heartbreak
now…though I don’t recall the details…
i am breaking down in front of people
when Amy plays in the background
In the small of my apt she has managed to lose my bathroom trashcan
I now have to dispose of q-tips and feminine products in the kitchen trash can
she decided since we missed a few work out sessions she’d spend several commercial breaks of New Adventures of Old Christine in inaccurate wall sits and had my knees shot for weeks
but worst of all
she forgets to take an ibuprofen and drink water at the conclusion of her night
and i’m left with a hang over that I don’t have time to mend
I can’t stand her
most nights
but just the other night
mid D.I.Y bartender training at 2 am
she remembered it was tax season
and set an alarm to remind me
for the next day
of course…
I still didn’t file
but it sure did make me smile
that maybe…
just maybe…
she’s becoming a little more responsible
Why Are Venezuelan Prisoners Sewing Their Mouths Shut?
At the lowest end of the prison power structure are los anegados — the unwanted ones — prisoners who have angered the pranes or allies of the pranes, on the inside or outside, and fear for their lives. And so, in an act of desperation, they stitch their mouths shut. Within the country’s prisons there is an unspoken, but religiously followed, agreement among inmates: When one sews his lips, no one can kill him.
[Images: Leo Ramírez](Source: theatlantic)
(via warsanshire)
I know this a bronco
we’ve met before
too many times to count
and too few to feel routine
we share the same driver
same home address
but do not interact unless necessary
or breakdown
we are landlord
and rented backhouse
strangers
its birth year a question
on the tips of my 3rd grade fingers
too heavy to raise
I do not attempt to google
or guess at an age
your eye roll would deflate me
for not remembering
so I just let it wear us
like black cocktail dress
the radio called in sick
again
so I don’t know how many songs its been since our driveway
but the coffee still smells fresh
so I assume it hasn’t been long
you promised I could seranade the trip
but gave me a limit
of 5 fiona apple songs
I reached my max well before the state line
I try to familiarize myself
with passenger
my right leg
a retired senior
up early and out of work
I bunt my moccasins to the floor
and sit Indian style
you inhale expectantly
sarcastically remind me
to wear socks
again
i watch you
dramatically churn your window absent
I remind you
your arms aren’t what they use to be
that you needed that work out
I pause
tongue search the roof of my mouth
for un-needed cherry …
“…and if I weren’t here you’d miss the stench of me
like the dirty diapers of your deceased infant”
your face an instant transformation
to a nun without a ruler in reach
the silence to follow
a well deserved time out
my hands grazed the seat of my punishment
kin of motel mattress
and movie theater seats
the cushion rolodex
of girls too fun for protest
and dark comedy
these are the only moments I envy them
the open road ahead
a porch down south
begging for too much time to talk
while the two us vocally arm cross and purse lips
we do this
take quiet instead of space
I’m mad you take me so seriously
you’re mad you make ridiculous choices
me
complicated and crass
like this car
classic and simple
only capable of natural air
both great ideas in theory
the car
YOUR car
surrenders before we do
on the side of the road
i watch you quickly eject
like the slinging of a rubber band
scream “fuck” on loop
in various tones
more times than this seat has ever heard
I hold the handle of the door
wait for the space between kernel pops
wait for you to be ready
I bring the tired coffee
for support
sip long
and hope something better
than fictitious deceased babies
try to forget the makings of metaphor
and pray for logic instead
I watch your palms pressed to the hood
stuck
eyes scavenging parts
known and unknown
and I enter slow in confident whisper
“…i’m sorry… really sorry. But, on the bright side…we DO have AAA…dominoes, spaghettios, a can opener, and an 5th of bourbon…
and baby, by the time help gets here we’ll forget this wasn’t a pit stop”
you chuckle
off guard
full
like you chose me
slam the hood shut
I, too comfortable
in your smile, insert:
“…but we totally should’ve taken my car”
you interject in full body charge
and before I know it
I have been playfully soaked in black coffee
you step back
bend over erupting in laughter
only to emerge moments later
holding an imaginary paint brush to the wind
and inspect
the “masterpiece”
you’ve created across my chest
you say it’s your “finest piece yet”
I roll my eyes
in love
tell you “i love you. i do. but it’s shit”
I pull you into me
like jerk of a leash
to the reluctantly obedient
kiss you like time travel
like first date
can feel the seat of your car
on my back
whisper “remember me”
even though we are still standing
outside
I hear you faintly from the past
ramble off facts
about vintage cars
like a nervous historian
and i startle myself present
i point at the bronco just over your shoulder and say
“your car…she’s a 1969”
you stare at me perplexed
“yes… she is…you knew that”
before i loved you
i kissed
like transition word
like “you’re here”
like bored
last call at the bar
was a buffet of names
to be hoarded
memorized for dark room recital
turned cleared calls
and soon come ex lovers
my hair was long enough
to pull
from any position
and encouraged if you liked it
before i loved you
i didn’t know what I liked
just knew that i wanted
more
of what i was good at getting
i fucked you for sport
and ran all of our games into overtime
i knew more rap lyrics
than love songs
memorized Too Short
and hated Prince
before i loved you
i never dreamed
of calm and stay
of sweaty palms
and learning recipes
the idea of kryptonite seemed absurd
before i loved you
i was wingless
jumping off the ledge
of everything
without fear
now that i can fly…
i’m more scared than i’ve ever been
and all I want to do is stand
as close to you as i can
When you first meet her, theres always that euphoria, that excitement, that infatuation. Then you guys get to knowing each other more and before you know it there’s things about them that start to wear on you and then all that heavenly shit goes away. And thats what we call the reality, right? But…
I’m afraid of
a lot of things,
but mostly,
most sincerely,
I am afraid of
being completely
unraveled by you,
and you finding nothing
you want in here.
(Source: keciasamethystheart, via succinctlyso)
She is two
Big bellied
bacon obsessed
Spastic
Always On…until the camera is
She cripple gallop dances in place
Flies when she’s angry
Flies when she’s excited
She victory dances on the potty
Cries for sport
Cries longer if you look convinced
Climbs my legs like tree trunks
Loves herself
Too much in the right dress
Stares her reflection down
Taking detailed inventory
Tells herself she’s pretty
Even when she’s a smile
drowning in a puddle of yogurt
She is Tutu and converse
Onsie pajamas & training wheel panties Sweetheart dipped in sarcasm
Eye rolls
hiding beneathe the shade of Beiber hair
The criminal behind the fingerprints
on my car window
She is Button pusher
30 second naps on the sidewalk
Rock, stick and flower hoarder
Memory of a computer’s search bar
I taught her Janis
She refers to Me and my Bobby McGee as “the train song” or “faded as my jeans”
Who knows if she will love Janis
Into training bras
And first kisses
Or if she’ll even remember me a week after I’m gone
but I do know…
If the memory of her nanny with the magenta hair
Should completely fade
“…feeling good was good enough for me…”
do not place the crying woman next to the front window.
she’ll lead everyone to believe… we’re all unhappy in here.
now that i’m nearing 30
the bottle caps on my ceiling
might have lost their charm
i don’t remember what the point was
giving stucco a purpose
creating visible stars in a city full of smog
clinging on to a piece of each bottle i had conquered
creating visual proof
i was good at something
orchestrating a cluster of senseless objects
to serve as tangents
for nervous lovers
to fabricate constellations
from nothing
as we pretended to be something
we weren’t
you could almost swear
the departing of men
has become your new subject of study
the way you watch them
observant
as they rapidly run the wheel
of your heart
until they abruptly quit
you fail to stumble
over the sentence structure of your words
when you notice
their surrender
as you privately take notes
on the differences and similarities
of this particular rat
compared to the others
his word choices
prettier than the last
you watch him casually shift between your eyes and the door
with passive plan of attack
you recognize the concentration of this face
from school yard girls
in double dutch games
he will jump
the second your eyes begin the slow race
of blinking themselves towards the finish line
because what is a woman sleeping, to a man?
besides an opportunity
to do something
he didn’t have the courage to do
while she was awake
