HAZE.

 Flaming River Gorge, Wyoming

(headed south west)

Bare Skin & Sage Brush

The pungent fragrance 

lures her off the highway to heal.

It is there she'll shed her skin, 

ever so similar to the Prairie Rattlesnakes 

amongst her.

The heavy haze holding her spirit prisoner

is forced out with her clear mind,

As she transforms out of fine dust n smoke,

The desert haze knows to meet the horizon.

"we will shed many skins &a we will learn many a times"

-L

ROCKET DREAMS.

  Tennessee & side of the road abandoned amusement parks,

before the tourist hell hole I like to call Pigeon Forge.

You know, 

Mock titanic ships,

upside down haunted houses, 

Giant gorilla's scaling crooked towers with beaming red eyes.

I still think about this burnt red whip, 

but I doubt even the finest elbow grease of all my mechanic-man friends could get it's engine up and running. 

What I was more interested in, was the rocket ship. 

 After 9 hours or so on flat highway cut with corn, 

I would rather just dip out to the moon.

SINGLE LIFE.

¹sin·gle adjective \ˈsiŋ-gəl\

: not having or including another : only one

Not even Merriam Webster has sympathy on us. Or should I be thanking her for being brutally honest.  Blunt is something very few people are anymore, disappearing like chivalry in the woodwork.

  

Single Life: One of two things

1.   Completely fucking miserable

-OR-

2.   A huge fucking relief.

Excuse my French but I believe we all have come from a relationshit that has shaped us into becoming the person we are today. In the winter season, one seems to forget the beauty of being alone because not only does the sun decide to ditch us, the coldfront tends to annoy us with its obnoxious presence. I’m just here to remind you that it is okay to slip into seasonal depression but remind you to salt your streets, because this is the GOOD LIFE.

“Companionship” is a lucky thing when found in compatibility, however when found in comfort can often lead us to “abandonship”

All we ever talk about is this girl or this guy until one of us changes the subject, due to self realization that there is more to life & maybe we are starting to sound a "little" obsessed.

"I would be lying if I said it is not nice to have the excitement of a P.I.C but I would also be lying if I said it wasn’t nice to wake up in the morning and take a  shit, without wondering if the person in the next room can hear me or not."

---

Self-discovery, you should try it sometime. Being forced to be alone is like being forced to maybe realize things you don't like 

about yourself,rather than having to listen to another person expresss their constant dissatisfaction. It’s finally your turn to discover the traits YOU love about yourself and the ones that could use some serious improvement.

However the best part about being single, is opening your mind to each person you meet. Falling in love not once but multiple times a week, getting butterflies, different species, from different breeds. Whether through conversation or compilations of intimate moments, in all reality, you are not alone you are with the ones you choose to be.

My point is to NEVER settle, but indulge in independence. Share who you are with only the ones who “absolutely” deserves it and if they don’t, kick em’ to the curb or even better...never let them get there. There is no room on single streets for spiritless, boring people. We have all wasted our precious time, and now that the clock is in your hand only share your time with the exciting ones that accentuate the “best” you.

-BESIDES, FREE DINNER NEVER HURT ANYONE-

Xoxo

Gossip girl...

NOT.

TWENTY FOUR.

24 HAS COMPLETELY MIND FU*KED ME

I realize I am no longer a girl but a woman “nesting” in a one bedroom apartment, with no diamond, no child, and no man which I find most women yearning for, which at age 16 to 23 seemed like a fuc*in dream to me too. Lately, instead of counting the minutes on my fertility clock I spend hours pondering all the reasons why I shouldn’t smash the shit out of it; Becoming fully aware there are no chains binding me to anything or anyone, I no longer see the perfect partner, the perfect place to settle, or the mini-me that at one time I so badly yearned for. The childbearing hips still reside, but no child. I see me, alone, in many unfamiliar places just passing through. I fantasize about beautiful faces I will soon encounter. I day-dream of their stories, lust for life and thirst for adventure quite like mine.

   

I then think of all the relationships I’ve lived in, trying to change that person's hair into the waves of the ocean, their eyes the stars I longed to gaze elsewhere, their body mountains I’d only wish to climb. Blaming them for not fulfilling my needs, blaming them for being human. Blaming myself for never being able to settle. At age 24, I’ve learned that the fulfillment I’ve been looking for is no longer in just one mind, one body, or one person for that matter, but in myself and myself alone.  

I am starving for new scenery and an intellectual conversation opposed to carbs and calories.  I am sick with an extreme case of the travel bug when the ones around me are in bed with the common cold. I sit here with symptoms of angst and freedom fever. I now pinch my pennies in hopes that Abraham Lincoln may sympathize with me, and teach me self-restraint along side wisdom to pursue this new life long journey.

“In the end, its not the years in your life that counts. It’s the life in your years.”

-Good Ole Abe Himself