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Faded Things: A Cento

The pay phone on the corner might ring
Something in the air wanting desperately to draw attention to itself only to assuage awkwardness

At the moment all the uppermost windows might open and let go a sky full of confetti
and banners
but the eerie sheen someone alone leaning over the aft rail mulling over his love life
might notice
Nobody will ever know why she chose the high floor she did to look down on the
cemetery
She could have stayed at street level and focused on the conspiracy of the buildings to
keep out sky

There is a kind of non threatening bewilderment that ambushes you a few days later

as you sit
The days of mutual admiration come and go

Punch lines and promises long since torn from their moorings bobbing in the slatch of the
mind
Heredity of cruelty everywhere
Now think of this day. One you will probably forget.

The feel of gravitational pull against eyelids is just Monday

At 9 I am a dandelion
Blooming swollen eyes
Legs that will sway
And bend in robust winds
But never snap



My brain stings and my puff pastry eyes are pumping blood through coral-red veins, fighting to keep the numb peepers open.

I spent a very small portion of my weekend sleeping, and I didn't even do anything badass. Being exhausted and going to school from 8am-5pm is really a drag, and even worse on an empty stomach.

I'm feeling like the victim of a major head trauma accident. My brain feels swollen and I should really be reading textbook pages and then sleeping.

I decided to clean out the basement instead.

It's amazing how much stuff my grandma has kept over the years and she finally gave me the okay to move some stuff out and take some old bookshelves into my room. She keeps EVERYTHING. I plan on painting the shelves red, to contrast with my mustard walls. Right now they're tan and look weird, like furniture sprawled out on a lawn during a yard sale; out of place.
The books I have piled in size-order on every available surface will soon have a home. Maybe once my room's organized, my brain will be too and then I'll get some sleep.

Hold the onions and the pickles...and okay, the tomatoes too

Sometimes I think that I'm the pickiest person ever and then I think "Oh nah, I'm just selective" and completely disregard the thought.
Recently I've acknowledged it again.

I've tried dating different types of guys and maybe just once I liked the guy straight off the bat. It takes me a while to get over the visual flaws and let my attraction to his personality take over. Now of course that last sentence sounds vain, but I don't intend it to, it's the way I am and I wish it weren't.
On the other hand dating guys I find more attractive than I am give me low self-esteem.
There's really no in between for me.

The reason I've been dwelling on this lately is because my mom decided to try hooking me up with this Greek kid her co-worker knows (it was the woman's suggestion). The thought of blind dating is a giant mind groan to me, but I've never dated anyone Greek before and am quite curious. I'm almost embarrassed to say that I'm too lazy to start something new. The whole "getting to know you" thing is exhausting and when it doesn't work out, discouraging. We've been chatting on Facebook since yesterday and...he has nice grammar?
It's just too soon to tell.