Madeline’s Weblog

Guitars, pencils,
Colorful things.
Tattered jeans,
Shirts with loose strings.
Blue eyes, clouds,
Coca-Cola and cheese.

Coca-Cola and cheese?
What are all of these?

These, if you please,
Are all the accessories
Of the bee’s knees.

Who’s the bee’s knees?

Jeez! He’s my main squeeze.

My Matthew,
who coincidentally
loves honey…
which, while not
from the knees,
does come from bees.

The secrets of my eyes
Are many
I know what came before
I know what is
I know what comes after

So do you
So do I

The ocean waves churn
In my blood
The desert sands sparkle
In my smile
The lush fruit of creation nestles
Beneath my belly
Between my hips

I am power
Religion
Birth
Death
Perfection of the human bodies
In Renaissance oils
Voluptuous
And beautiful

I lounge upon
A leather couch

Contented, wise,
And omniscient

Come closer
And I will reveal to you
The many secrets of my eyes

Apples, oranges,
and bananas.
Food that I love,
should love,
but can’t love
as much as pizza.

Clad in a baggy hooded sweatshirt
I hide the shame of a year and a half
Gone by

The shame of an extra thirty pounds
That snuck up when I least expected it

Curse pizza and potato chips!
Curse them all!

“Declined” the cashier says
As he hands me the
Thin sheet of plastic
That determines if
I eat today or not.

Declined, declined, declined.
All of my distress
In a word,
“Declined.”

Muddled, murky mind
In a hacking, harrowed head

Bundled up in blankets
Feeling nearly dead

Tomorrow will be better
But for my state today

I need to just stay home
And sleep the sick away

Every minute passing
Shall never be again.
Every minute passing
Brings us closer to the end.
Cherish every second,
Live out your every dream.
Cherish every second,
The end is nearer than it seems.

Small bursts of time
Allow me to shield myself
Beneath the heavy blankets;
Allow me more chances
To chase the creatures
Of my dreamland.

The screech of my alarm clock
like the crows outside my window
cry for my to rise,
to face the sun,
but I’m met with cloudy skies.

Would I
see differently
if my eyes
weren’t brown?

It must be just
a myth that
blue eyes
are more
sensitive
to light