Cowboys

I have always tried to be who I've wanted
The very picture of sophistication, and grace,
People of the world feel free to stand in awe of my presence.
Proper grammar, delicate cookies, and haute clothing
I am all of those and so much more,
Shall we converse about Austen, or Bach?
Michelangelo or Van Gogh

I will host a soiree' that will be attended only by the elite.
I will paint my nails a pale peach, and wear my hair in soft curls
Watch me carefully drop advanced words into the conversation,
Marvel at my well moisturized hands.
For I am a lady.

Where am I from?
Surely you guess, Manhattan  or Boston.
Alas no, I cannot quite shake the truth of my roots,
Growing in red dirt soil, where everything is flat and wearing a tank top with jeans is dressing up
Oklahoma, where the people die of boredom and the plants wither in the heat
Why does a man in a cowboy hat catch my eye?
Have I no taste?

Slap me if I ever utter y'all or a'int.
Don't let me drive a pickup covered in mud
When I swoon over the farmer boy please steal me away from this place
Take me to a sophisticated state
Rescue me from the light blue sky, and people chewing for fun

I long to shake Oklahoma,
I even gave my heart to Colorado
The mountains, the sky, the snow.
No tornadoes

Don't let me hit on that cowboy

Layer one of the bad days Possibly more to come

I am sitting on my neatly piled stack of blankets (that make up my bed).  Sarah is on the couch, and Melinda is lying on the floor nearby.  Fun girls night since Trevor is at drill you ask?  Nothing quite that normal for me.  Suicide watch, oh fun.

I cut with a hidden razor blade recently, then woke up early today to cut with a piece of broken glass.  I cut over the same cuts until the blood flowed freely again, cleansing me.  Melinda and Trevor were already watching me more closely before he left due to these and some other warning signs such as increased insomnia.  I cleaned the blood up sufficiently both times, but they insisted on cleaning and bandaging the cuts.  Melinda is worried to sleep at all since both of these times where when she was asleep.

As a cutter it is pretty easy to figure out when people are less attentive, and what will make them more or less attentive.  Using this knowledge to cut feels a bit underhand, but addictions are a bitch.  Mel kept me in eyesight all day.  She followed me on to the balcony, back to the living room, and even  into the closet when I curled up in a dark corner and cried.  She seemed to be more concerned after that, although I tried to convince her that besides my slight claustrophobia I like closets.

The straw that broke the back as they  say, was when Melinda went to the bathroom and I slipped outside, ran to a nearby drainage ditch, and used a stick to reopen and further cut my cuts.  The blood looked so peaceful running down my wrist to pool in my hand, coloring the grass red.  It was almost pretty. Once A scared Melinda found me, she wouldn't let me move an inch without supervision and immediately started calling and texting around to find someone to back her up.

Her threats of a psych hospital got me to let her bandage me, to eat, and not to purge.  Her friends who know her very well read through the lines of her fairly calmly worded texts and immediately dropped all they could to come over.  Nathaniel came over, and now Sarah is staying the night.

I feel stupid messing up so many peoples lives.

I'm not saying take me to a hospital.  Take me to a morgue.

Run all the Reds

I love when my cares fall away, crashing to the dance floor,

glitter in the flickering lights,

it isn't fun til the room starts to spin,

twirl round, and round,

move to the beat,

we are a crush of people trying to forget.

I love it when the noise in my head subsides, replaced by music.

Another shot of tequila, sucking the lime, wanting so much to feel right

Keep moving, keep pretending, just keep dancing 

It will get better

A shot of vodka

Try dancing with the guy sweating under the lights

giggle with your friends in the bathroom

The smells of vomit and your watermelon lip gloss mixing

Look out for each other,
You never know .

I love it when I feel weightless, 

I float when I walk, I smile when I dance.

Nothing matters, 

My cares are dust under my stilettos

Ground down by the crowd of people leading desperate lives,

One last shot

I love the solidarity found in an overstuffed room, of music and people with an unspoken agreement,

Just pretend it's okay, and don't call anyone's shit

Maybe one more shot

To forget

Color outside the lines,

Dance like you don't give a damn,

Lie in the snow,

Let him grab you,

It doesn't matter anyway

Speed through all the lights

Never stop dancing.

Drink until you float away, far, far away.

Clutch him closer

Close your eyes, feel the beat, scream,

Keep pretending that it doesn't matter

Let him treat you like an object, he will buy you a drink.

Really, you are using him too 

Just hold him close and pretend it's real.

Drink another Shot

Dance the night away, dance your life away

Run all the reds,

Lose count of the shots

swirl in the glitter,

wavering lights,

pounding beat,

just pretend