Fat Lips and Pretzel Sticks!
For you dears who like my
The day, the day,
it creeps upon me,
spilling over my flesh
like a watercolor glaze
of warm, summertime breezes
and fresh-baked country biscuits.
It smells much of misery and feet sweat.
The day, it comes
bearing giftwrapped curses
and Tupperwares full
of bite-sized dreads.
Quite unwelcomed it does stroll into my room
and atop my bed,
waking me with the snidest grin you'll ever see
and a most annoying salutaion of,
"Hey there, hi there, ho there!
Welcome to a new series of tribulations!"
as it treads forcefully upon me,
just before it drags me throughout the many, many hours
that compose its tedious lifespan.
Outside, the birds... such pretty things...
they take pity upon me
and attempt to chirp false cheer into me
but there are scabs in my ears --
they bleed so much from listening,
day in, day out, day up, day down,
day through day, day to day,
to the shrill, harsh, resonating voice of life
and I can't hear the birds of song
because those scabs, they are so thick,
so misinterperet their gaping beaks I do and scream,
"The birds are choking!"
But the cruel day cares not,
the wretched bloody thing,
and deafly continues dragging me
across hot asphalt,
through stale, hostile air,
over fields of the rotting corpses of dreams
and my heart is sad.
"The poor birds," I mutter
with great distress
and trouble in my swimming eyes.
Meanwhile,
my bones, they break,
my head, it aches,
my smiles, yes they are quite fake,
but what's a girl to do?
As a slave to her own kind's savagly folly ways
and as pet, neglected and abused, to the day,
passed on through its generations
to be neglected and abused per tradition by its heirs,
waiting morosely and very desperately
for a kindly rebel in the day's bloodline...
though as each day leaves me battered in my cage and walks away,
my hope in that dwindles ever further...
What's a girl to do?
Fat lips and pretzel sticks,
damn, the day is harsh.
But the night,
oh, the night...
She's a complicated and somewhat moody mistress
but I love her very dearly just the same.
Always good to me, she is,
even when she insists on dating Lonliness
...that terribly bothersome and overbearing bastard...
and brings him home to stay with us.
Even in those times of frosty, utter aloneness
(which have been quite frequent as of late,
it does so pain me to say),
when, I must admit, I am indeed at my saddest...
yes, even then,
when I break down in tears
until my nest is quite salted and soggy,
the night... she's always there...
There to envelope me in her safe and comfy embrace.
But our moments together, mine and the night's,
are not all spent in tears, no, no.
And truly, even if that were so,
those moments would still be far too momentary.
No, we have splendid times together mostly.
To her I spill buckets of silent verbosity laced with frustration and distress,
every drop tasting of the wiskedness of her counterpart of light,
and she offers me some peace and comfort.
I give up to her all the secrets locked within me
and in return
she sends me to unreachable lands,
to alternate dimensions,
weaving in and out of past, present, and future,
sews me closet-fulls of new and different skins,
or, at the very least, and sometimes at my preferrrence,
simply offers me the comforting and secretive cloak of blackness
in which i am entirely free
in all my tragic repression
to have my way with myself
and sigh to the night a half-hearted "Thank-you,"
for the real thing just simply cannot be simulated well enough...
But sometimes (most often, actually),
...oh how hard she tries...
she even gives birth
to an entire cast of fleshless fantasy lovers,
her chicken soup to me
when I fall victim to the chill of the solitude that plagues me
and makes me sneeze and cough
until my eyeballs pop out from my pulsating skull
and my stomach evicts my lungs from their proper place
and I am left a sickly shell,
writhing on the floor in neopolitan agony,
wishing with all my might
upon every single star
that I greedily stole with heartfelt hopes
from the very cosmos,
that I could be magically teleported to a secret place
in which I could just simply be with you...
But the night...
even she knows that that's nothing but foolishness.
Deep within, somewhere between my mind and my guts,
I know too...
But I'm still stargazing, my love,
and I will for always.
and...
The Sonnet
Deliberate Gentle Love Dreamer (DGLDf)
Romantic, hopeful, and composed. You are the Sonnet. Get it? Composed?
Sonnets want Love and have high ideals about it. They're conscientious people, caring & careful. You yourself have deep convictions, and you devote a lot of thought to romance and what it should be. This will frighten away most potential mates, but that's okay, because you're very choosy with your affections anyway. You'd absolutely refuse to date someone dumber than you, for instance.
Your exact opposite:
Genghis Khunt
Random Brutal Sex Master
Lovers who share your idealized perspective, or who are at least willing to totally throw themselves into a relationship, will be very, very happy with you. And you with them. You're already selfless and compassionate, and with the right partner, there's no doubt you can be sensual, even adventurously so.
You probably have lots of female friends, and they have a special soft spot for you. Babies do, too, at the tippy-top of their baby skulls.
ALWAYS AVOID: The Stiletto, The Battleaxe, Genghis Khunt, Half-Cocked
CONSIDER: The Peach
Link: The 32-Type Dating Test by OkCupid - Free Online Dating.
My profile name: limaccino
The day, the day,
it creeps upon me,
spilling over my flesh
like a watercolor glaze
of warm, summertime breezes
and fresh-baked country biscuits.
It smells much of misery and feet sweat.
The day, it comes
bearing giftwrapped curses
and Tupperwares full
of bite-sized dreads.
Quite unwelcomed it does stroll into my room
and atop my bed,
waking me with the snidest grin you'll ever see
and a most annoying salutaion of,
"Hey there, hi there, ho there!
Welcome to a new series of tribulations!"
as it treads forcefully upon me,
just before it drags me throughout the many, many hours
that compose its tedious lifespan.
Outside, the birds... such pretty things...
they take pity upon me
and attempt to chirp false cheer into me
but there are scabs in my ears --
they bleed so much from listening,
day in, day out, day up, day down,
day through day, day to day,
to the shrill, harsh, resonating voice of life
and I can't hear the birds of song
because those scabs, they are so thick,
so misinterperet their gaping beaks I do and scream,
"The birds are choking!"
But the cruel day cares not,
the wretched bloody thing,
and deafly continues dragging me
across hot asphalt,
through stale, hostile air,
over fields of the rotting corpses of dreams
and my heart is sad.
"The poor birds," I mutter
with great distress
and trouble in my swimming eyes.
Meanwhile,
my bones, they break,
my head, it aches,
my smiles, yes they are quite fake,
but what's a girl to do?
As a slave to her own kind's savagly folly ways
and as pet, neglected and abused, to the day,
passed on through its generations
to be neglected and abused per tradition by its heirs,
waiting morosely and very desperately
for a kindly rebel in the day's bloodline...
though as each day leaves me battered in my cage and walks away,
my hope in that dwindles ever further...
What's a girl to do?
Fat lips and pretzel sticks,
damn, the day is harsh.
But the night,
oh, the night...
She's a complicated and somewhat moody mistress
but I love her very dearly just the same.
Always good to me, she is,
even when she insists on dating Lonliness
...that terribly bothersome and overbearing bastard...
and brings him home to stay with us.
Even in those times of frosty, utter aloneness
(which have been quite frequent as of late,
it does so pain me to say),
when, I must admit, I am indeed at my saddest...
yes, even then,
when I break down in tears
until my nest is quite salted and soggy,
the night... she's always there...
There to envelope me in her safe and comfy embrace.
But our moments together, mine and the night's,
are not all spent in tears, no, no.
And truly, even if that were so,
those moments would still be far too momentary.
No, we have splendid times together mostly.
To her I spill buckets of silent verbosity laced with frustration and distress,
every drop tasting of the wiskedness of her counterpart of light,
and she offers me some peace and comfort.
I give up to her all the secrets locked within me
and in return
she sends me to unreachable lands,
to alternate dimensions,
weaving in and out of past, present, and future,
sews me closet-fulls of new and different skins,
or, at the very least, and sometimes at my preferrrence,
simply offers me the comforting and secretive cloak of blackness
in which i am entirely free
in all my tragic repression
to have my way with myself
and sigh to the night a half-hearted "Thank-you,"
for the real thing just simply cannot be simulated well enough...
But sometimes (most often, actually),
...oh how hard she tries...
she even gives birth
to an entire cast of fleshless fantasy lovers,
her chicken soup to me
when I fall victim to the chill of the solitude that plagues me
and makes me sneeze and cough
until my eyeballs pop out from my pulsating skull
and my stomach evicts my lungs from their proper place
and I am left a sickly shell,
writhing on the floor in neopolitan agony,
wishing with all my might
upon every single star
that I greedily stole with heartfelt hopes
from the very cosmos,
that I could be magically teleported to a secret place
in which I could just simply be with you...
But the night...
even she knows that that's nothing but foolishness.
Deep within, somewhere between my mind and my guts,
I know too...
But I'm still stargazing, my love,
and I will for always.
and...
The Sonnet
Deliberate Gentle Love Dreamer (DGLDf)
Romantic, hopeful, and composed. You are the Sonnet. Get it? Composed?
Sonnets want Love and have high ideals about it. They're conscientious people, caring & careful. You yourself have deep convictions, and you devote a lot of thought to romance and what it should be. This will frighten away most potential mates, but that's okay, because you're very choosy with your affections anyway. You'd absolutely refuse to date someone dumber than you, for instance.
Your exact opposite:
Genghis Khunt
Random Brutal Sex Master
Lovers who share your idealized perspective, or who are at least willing to totally throw themselves into a relationship, will be very, very happy with you. And you with them. You're already selfless and compassionate, and with the right partner, there's no doubt you can be sensual, even adventurously so.
You probably have lots of female friends, and they have a special soft spot for you. Babies do, too, at the tippy-top of their baby skulls.
ALWAYS AVOID: The Stiletto, The Battleaxe, Genghis Khunt, Half-Cocked
CONSIDER: The Peach
Link: The 32-Type Dating Test by OkCupid - Free Online Dating.
My profile name: limaccino