Dad, please ask me questions.

If you really knew me, you would know you have no idea who I really am.
You would know I like Jack Nicholson enough to risk my eternal glory.
I don't watch rated-R movies to upset you, there's just something about the mans face.
Sorry, Brody Berry is not my type and sometimes I stutter.
Believe it or not, I respect what you say.
I look up to you enough to know you are starting to get gray hair and sometimes you get sad.
We both do.
You hate moms job as much as I do, but she went to college longer so don't even think of bringing it up.
We know she's always right.
If you really knew me you would know I worry about you sometimes.
I worry one day you'll realize you deserve so much better than the love you were never given and leave nothing but the unsuccessful peace you could never bring into our home.
Trust me dad, you're a catch.
My Zupas manager told me so.
But please don't leave, I need someone to change my lightbulb.
I like music just as much as you.
But I can't stand listening to another song about whiskey. Or woman. Or heartbreak. Or red solo cups.
So please turn the radio down.
Turn the radio down and lets talk.
Ask me questions and pretend you are interested in what I have to say, despite my answers.
Ok, don't ask.
But for once I am going to tell you anyway.
I dress the way I do because I was never pretty enough to be a cheerleader and I have spunk.
I think about brains because I am fascinated with what brains think about.
What they create.
What they produce.
What they destroy.
And sometimes, I wonder what they taste like.
I don't collect bugs anymore because I don't want to curse them with the same fate I've been given, permanence.
I like asparagus but am a vegan because I'm tired of feeling heavy.
I want to fly with the birds, not eat them, so stop looking at me like that.
Stop looking at me like I disappoint you.
Like I think I know it all.
Stop looking at me like you wish I were someone else.
Someone that will be content.
And reserved. And happy. And a role model to their siblings. And secure. And brave. And ok. And normal.
Because dad, I am not.
I am not normal and I do not believe in what you do.
Stop looking at me with disgust because I do not bring you eternal father with me to school.
God has been nothing to me but an acquaintance I occasionally visit when I am told.
Like a sick grandmother in the hospital.
Difference is, I will switch the flowers I brought grandma when they die with pretty, yellow daisies.
The skeletons in your closet invite mine over for Thanksgiving dinner, every year.
That's right, they are related.
Clearly different, but relatable.
So please relate with me and help me make my bones pretty like yours.
The skeletons in my closet want to be shiny and clean too.
I stay up late at night just to do it and sometimes I crave peanut butter.
I wash my hands a little too much because I am scared of catching it.
Catching Basketballs and Baseballs and footballs and soccerballs and a cold.
I've always been uncoordinated and a little too fragile.
I'm sorry.
I'm Attracted to boys who are nothing like you because I am too much like mom
And I am not going to pretend it could work.
I am always too cold and right now, right now I'd rather be in my room.
Just because I like it.
I am your daughter and I love you.
My name is Brelynn.
But now the kids in my English class know more about me than you ever will.
I didn't grow up in their arms, I don't even know half their names.
So please dad, ask me questions.

She packed a bag, a vintage record.
Friends stopped.
Hold her dark hair,
For Maxwell is their little girl
and I'm in heaven.

Humans have moved up on my favorite species list.

I would like to thank you.
Thank you for having such pretty hair and letting me stare at it.
Thank you for the poem. I wish it meant more, but it was nice.
Thank you for being civil, sitting next to me, wearing a sweater made of tolerance and cotton.
Thank you for standing pigeon-toed while you play.
Holding myself on tip-toes has always made me feel light, but then again I don't have your talent resting on my shoulders, weighing me down.
I hope you were comfortable.
Thank you for walking past me and not saying hello.
I'm not being sarcastic, I need to focus.
Thank you for eating a dandelion with me and enjoying life through simplicity,
a meow can mean so much,
or nothing at all, depending on who you are talking to.
Thank you for over analyzing things yet being comfortable enough to make-out.
This isn't making much sense to me either,
but thank you for listening anyway.
Thank you for teaching me what to be, and what not to be, and that is not a question.
The only question is if I love you or not, but I appreciate you all the same.
Thank you for having more to yourself than just God.
You took whatever it is from whoever it was and did something with it.
You made things,
you made yourself.
You took that heart and created a piece that made mine stop.
Only to be revived by that voice so angelic, you must be a God.
But you are not and I am happy about that.
We are so close to perfection my dear. But you, you are real.
You took those knees and made her laugh.
Those red blood cells opened your eyes,
To the world.
and to them.
And to that rolli-polli bug you were so close to stepping on, but caught yourself.
You see skylines and garbage cans and sunsets and roads and me.
You see me and I thank you for that.
Curiosity runs through you, so please sneeze on me.
I'd like some of that and I don't mind catching a cold.
Those elbows of yours are smart.
Thank you for protecting them from scrapes and bruises.
Thank you for not taking the risk of going outside, and staying indoors with me all day.
After all, we are warm and so close to love darling.
So thank you.
Thank you for being human with me.
Meow.

I shouldn't listen.... but I must. The people.

What are you doing? Nice to see you. No Reed, I don't need your help anymore. Mommy. $12.42. Please. No. Paper or plastic. Here, hold my hand. Honk. Steps. Welcome to Orange Leaf. No he leaves next week. Uhhhhh, what's good again? Noooooo. Thank you. No, like we really need to talk about it. I'm totally sure. Hurry and order please. Ding. A car passing. Steps. Steps. Open. Close. Engine. Yay! Lord have mercy on my rough and rowdy ways, lord have mercy on my rough and rowdy ways. Colby we are so proud of you! Yes, wellll I don't know. More please.

Cats & Dogs

friend·ship/ˈfrendˌSHip/
Noun:
The emotions or conduct of friends; the state of being friends.
A relationship between friends.

Anyone know where I can get one of these eh?

Me and/or Evil Kitten: I don't want this friendship anymore.

You and/or Kitten 2: Why??

Me and/or Evil Kitten: Because I can't keep up with the games, and I am tired. I don't hate you silly, that's only the cat in the movie.

I just need the break you and him never took.

Ouch, it's too tired to be tired.

I'd go to college out of state but my shoulder is asleep under my little sisters head and I don't want to wake her.
It tingles.
The tingles keep me from sleep on purpose, I think.
I think, they want me to think.
To think of numbers and hair and gifts.
Gifts I've been given and things I want.
Beanie Babies, life, books and sex.
I've been taught sex is a gift but please tell Santa I'd rather have a new camera.
I want a new camera and I want the future.
I'm not ready for sex.
I want the future right now and I want asparagus, burnt asparagus.
I want poetry hips.
The kind of hips that look good in the jeans that say, "hey, she can write."
I want people to realize she is fake and a little too much like everyone else.
But she's better at it.
She looks better in my personality than I do, so I give her unneeded permission to display it.
She has the hips for it.
I want to speak Arabic, but only for the time being.
I want a tragedy thrust upon Mitt Romney, so he too can drop out.
Please don't agree with that, it's sick.
I want your innocence preserved.
I want to sleep right now so I stop nourishing what I cannot have.
I need to put down my phone and stop reading about Cordelia Botkins human cakes.
I need to stop enjoying reading it.
I need to stop enjoying my envy.
But I'll agree with her, I can't stop.
It tastes too good.
My sister just woke up, but the tingling won't stop.
In state college it is.

I wish today was the 2nd Thursday of the month.

Sometimes I think about you.
What your blood tastes like and how old you were when you got your first haircut.
Sometimes I think about her, too.
Uncomfortable for all of us, especially her if she knows she is the one we are discussing.
Yes, you.
But I am not going to take it back.
Your skin looks like porcelain and I would like to kiss you.
Not for pleasure,
I just want to count the bumps on your tongue with my own.
I'm intrigued.
I'm not attracted to her, I'm not attracted to him,
I'm attracted to them.
I'm attracted to the fact they can be that selfless with one another and not wear shoes all at the same time.
I'm attracted to the lie the new boy just told us, in an attempt to save himself.
I'm attracted to the legs in those shorts.
My heart just skipped a beat when I thought about his capability to kill.
Out of fear or amazement, I am not quite sure,
But I'm attracted to him all the same.
Mr. Darcy will always own my heart, aside from Sundays, and every other Thursday.
On Sundays it belongs to his servants, appearing once on screen and never in writing.
I'm attracted to them, I can relate to them.
They are no one.
I am no one.
We are no one, and I'm attracted to that.
Every other Thursday, my heart is in Jeffery Dahmers hands...and mouth.
I am flattered by the enjoyment he feels.
He likes the way it tastes and I'm attracted to that.
I'm attracted to what I want, what I see, and who I am.
I'm attracted to humans,
Just not enough.
But please don't let that stop you from letting my tongue count the number of bumps on yours.
I really do think you are cute.