Ghosts

A ghost moved into my house today. She watches me from the bathroom mirror. Her dark eyes startled me and I noticed her pale skin stretched across her bones. She reached out for help but I ran out of the cold bathroom before she could catch me.
'How mysterious,' I thought. I longed to help her, help her lift those black eyes, or maybe produce one small smile. But my hospitality soon disappeared when she started to scream. A horrible, haunted sound coming from the bathroom mirror. I grabbed a coffee mug. And broke the mirror. It was then I realized the ghost would not leave.
The screaming got louder.
I realized, the ghost was me.


Yup. I've had a rough time lately.

But I write poetry, so here's a taste of that. I thought it was a little appropriate for the topic.

His heart with no home,
Is sent to wander and roam.
His life unseen,
Sighs a silent scream.
His breath in the icy air,
Warm ghosts escaping his lips.

Raining Again

I'm a little dysfunctional, don't you know?
Get a little emotional, don't you know?

I jumped today when my sister walked in the room to ask me a question. I was at the computer, looking guilty. I didn't want to be caught reading poetry. Here's the thing. I used to be a poetry hater. It was the worst thing about English class in high school. I'd throw the book on the desk and grumble, "This is fucking gay. I hate poetry." My problem is... I don't understand why they can't just say what they're trying to say.

Anyways. I was caught with my hand in the cookie jar today...reading poetry. Maybe I'm finally learning to like it. I mean, throughout this blog every now and then there's a little piece of a poem or something like that. Maybe I don't hate it as much as I like to say I do.

It's raining again. I could hear the droplets shriek onto the window pane and cry silently when they traced down the glass. Rain makes me depressed. I put in a CD. I'm listening to Tech N9ne, my favorite rap artist. I'm not much of a rap listener, but then again I'm not much of a poem reader or writer.

Days like this put me in a thoughtful, brooding mood. I crave an ice cold beer, in a glass so I don't have to taste the tin when I put a can to my lips. I also crave a cigarette but I've been doing so good at keeping from smoking, it'd be retarded to start up again. The dreams I've been having swirl around in my head, they won't leave me alone. I wake up feeling distant from the world, disconnected from everything and everyone.

Everyone is different.
Some people are strange.
Some are boring.
I seem to be a mixture of everything.