broken record 1st draft

by your side
ive lost
4 quarts of blood
60 gallons of sweat
and the type of tears you
could only see.

i had a dream where
i built the perfect friend
and when it came true
in life like always
i wasn't very good at it
(nothing to do with you)

dreams work only
in drugs and poetry
and this life is too vivid and im
too vague to set it right
thanks for the truth

coming from you
it's like an anchor.
no matter how bad
its lonely on this side of the dream
to think no one pays attention to you
and when they do it's like
my time to run away

thanks for the truth, man,
its an anchor for me
holding me up through my
weak waves of vague

thanks for paying attention

to what you can get
from me cause sometimes
all there is
blood
and sweat
and memories of a tear.

slow opening

Listen
I regard these feelings as the last of a dying breed, an
Exorbitant diamond, thrust into my hands from an unknown
Source It feels real, everything about it is so perfect and all at once.
I cannot afford to be mistaken again,
To hold a treasure so long with such love to
Find it never real, at all.
Astonished- by what I think feel do
As my prisons of day to day thought and behavior
Shut down one by one
And I am free,
With every inch you get closer I come closer to me.
Listen I will never have confidence again if I get hurt again
Blind, wandering back back in the shadowed retreats of this life
-I need it.
So I am taking this slow, very slow
I wanted you to know
I am loving it, though
These frontiers of lust and emotional di
I step on them only with you, and that means something.
I breathe this new world so slowly, with you and you
Mean a lot,. So listen, baby
I want you to know how much I am thinking of you
So much I space my encounters with you to see you all around me
Even far a part
Cause I don’t want to be the one to fuck
Up a beautiful, beautiful thing This Time.

me making fun of myself and my lonely singleness

TOP REASONS
WHY NOVEMBER FIRST
TO JANUARY SECOND
OFFICIALLY CREATE
CRAZY, ANGRY, YOUNG
LONELY AND SINGLE
ALCOHOLICS

A ballad by Diana Lee LaBrecque

Living in New England means constant freezing weather,
not enough cheap warm jackets for poor college students
to afford and calling my parents up for more Cosco hand warmers
because I am lonely and single during the holidays.

Random acts of kindness become ever more rare and more random
from parents when they send you a box of cookies and not hand
warmers and I never seem to get what I want in my stalking because
I am lonely and single during the holidays.

Festive lights are always turned on too early in the day, so they
aren’t seen at night because all the bulbs have burnt out by then,
and it never snows when it should because I am lonely and single
during the holidays.

Friends are never around when you need help writing angry letters to the
managers of whoever created light bulbs and they all have perfect
boyfriends whom I love to hate because I’m lonely and single during
the holidays.

Lack of incoming phone calls drives me to sketchy internet chat
rooms and I am reminded that the world is a scary, pedophile place
because I am lonely and single during the holidays.

Officially hating society reminds me that no bars in my town check
for a valid ID and a group of strangers saw me throw up my candy cane
dinner on my out of style earmuffs because I’m lonely and single
during the holidays.

Signing myself into rehab while giddy carolers sing Peace On Earth
in a continuous round that can only be heard in my head confirms that
I should have said yes to that date on November second and I need to
move to Mexico and become a mistress because I am lonely and
single during the holidays once again.

Undefined Damages

I am surrounded with smoke that
Quickly gets exhaled from
My undefined lungs.
They are caught
In between young and damaged.
I turn the band up louder.
Guys who know how to play their anger loud and hard
But don’t know how to hold their own instruments.
Their bass still agrees with me.
And I get yelled at.
From me. From you.And from all of them
But mostly me.And I know it.
I know I live my young life too hard,
A life too damaged by being too undefined.
I quickly take in more dark fatal smoke,
And laugh bitterly.
At my inner child for once protesting
All of this poison and these complex lyrics.
One time when my mind didn’t listen to all the yells.
Coming from me. And you and then all of them.
But it’s usually mostly me.
But it was still just noise.
White, simple little noise for me to dance in.
I created volume and light outside my small body
Wanting to wipe out all the confusion and fog I saw.
And I got a pat on the head for being little and full of good.
And I was that ray of sunshine for a moment more
Still too young to spell damaged.
Now I am too damaged from being too undefined.
Night after day I take what’s inside, and what’s too dark for others to see.
And I hold it in front of me.
Trying to define all that is damaged.
And I fill it with my own smoke and toxins.
And I’d rather breathe in the loud bass that I once protested,
So I can to spell the smoke and bass that defines
The damages of the anger and the yells,
That comes from me, from you, from the rest of them.
But mostly it comes from me. And I know it.

amsterdam mirrors

Hi this is my revised poem, "Amsterdam Mirrors" and some bio information:
Jess *&%

BIO: jess is a wanderer who is currently searching for intelligent life in boston. she is proud of this poem because she dosen''t bitch about her childhood in it. in her spare time she attempts to re define the word travel.

amsterdam mirrors
looking back
scanning images
amsterdam mirrors.
pause and surrender and allow
myself
to glimpse sharp edges of time drainers,
loud mind exhausters: architects of my every day.

amsterdam mirrors and there is no magic
just a mortal experiencing equator shift
Unabound to these weapons you call limbs

beaming inwardly in the low lights
the low ground the
sun is outstretched and mild day
and night bearing
prizms of light
subtly meet weaving lines of
waterway and shore

unabound to these weapons you call limbs
i gotta say
i look so much bigger
to that sad little life
measured in un checked e-mail
and the next best thing
thought fit so well
i see myself in the light, now.
i see myself taking my first steps all over again,
like ive never seen myself, before.

first draft "striped and bound"

give me the freedom of taste
leave me a moment of haste
i mean

frankly im intoxicated with worry
the streets stick to my souls
littered with dented scratch cards
weak matches that bundle in dampness
concrete forms harder under every breath
each blasted step

do you believe everything you hear well
hear this:
there is no peace in silence

express

well here it is