Welcome to my writing journal! I post poetry, short stories, long stories, and commentary on whatever it is I feel like. If you're reading this, thank you. Please feel free to add me, and please comment on anything you read! I can't promise I'll add everyone back, but I'll try my best. And please feel free to tell me what you think!

I also apologize for the typo's, I know there are many! (Seems funny when you think about it.)

How NOT To Hit Your Customers In The Face

Smile at him as he verbally assaults you.
A man in his 50's.
His eyes narrow and beady, cutting into your face.
His lips pursed, chapped, wrinkled
Firing spit bullets at you.

The men's locker room sauna is broken.
The door, ripped from its hinges.
By the man who is yelling at you.
Children will die, cities will burn,
Unlike the flesh of the decaying God.

I keep my smile plastered on.
My fists balled up like small angry rocks.
Lightly pounding the counter by unseen eyes
Practing their beating.

My eyes stayed fixed on his.
My teeth grind against each other.
Carefully trying to not show my jaw moving.
I hide my fangs behind my smile,
Hiding the angry, red rage.

Dennis came over shortly before dinner, when Ellen sent him upstairs to fetch Nicole. He walked in to see her sprawled out on her comforter, her mouth hanging open, snoring loudly. He cringed but walked over to her anyhow. He pushed her once, no reply. Pushed her again, she rolled over. He shook her gently, and she woke up. She blinked and swallowed, looking around confused.
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**No, I did not stop typing this up, I have a hard copy I update, I'm just lazy and don't post it. Sorry for the delay!**

The next day Dennis and Nicole were the first ones in the classroom since David had to be at work early. They went back to sleep on their desks since school didn’t start for another hour. When James walked in his laughed at the two, and walked over in front of them, only to drop a large textbook on the ground. The two nearly fell out of their seats, looking around paranoid.
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Lets talk about
The way the ink stains
My fingertips a coal color
Or the way the ink smells
Invading my allergies
Causing me to sneeze.

My only childhood friend
An ageless 17 year old
Woman hater, food lover,
But a womanizer as well
My $1.25 spent monthly
So I can meet him again.

I'm passed the age
Thinking maybe he is real
But I still feel my stomach
And my eyes
And my heart
Swell with love,
Tears,
Hope.

In slabs of bad pork
Mustard drips down onto
The slender fingers
Poking in and out
Trying to contain
Meat inside.

I won't look at her
The messiest eater
I have ever
Accidentally
Watched from a distance.

Triangles and rectangles cut
Into the blue skyline above them
Reaching up for power and status
While their reflections on the water
Tell them to stop.

A boat sits carelessly in front of the madness
Gently bouncing up and down in a slow dance
To tame the water so she can allow
Power to climb higher into the sky.

The grey drizzle on the green grass
Which cushions the soles of my rough cracked feet
Moisturizing with the morning dew and
Stinging me where blood has sealed a crack

The clouds break
Cold dries up on my arms
As I wait patiently for you to throw her
Our of your bed
And kiss her goodbye in the doorway
So I can finally see
The damage you did clear in front of me.

The long slender neck

With the wide tan bottom

Filled to the brim with a poisonous ocean

Dancing wildly in people’s hands.



Balancing delicately on black leather

A strong hand keeping her straight

And not laying in the pink flamingo decorations

The DJ’s music swells louder



Staring down into her

The liquid has decreased by two fold

The glass is empty

The bottle is placed on the table.

The bright buzzing noise fading out into the sunset
Of the blood orange sky with purple highlights
With the wet grass beneath my naked palms,
While the birds go to sleep.

The air is crisp and cool,
And summer is dying into the merciless beauty of fall.

Dear dumb receptionist at Franekl Acura,

So today my dad dropped his MDX off for the manager at the place. He accidentally left his checkbook in the car. My dad called you, and you refused to put the call through! Then you hung up on him. He called back, and for whatever stupid reason, you're clearly small brain thought it was a good ideal to tell him he was not important and a no body.

I guess you're right, possible college drop out who clearly can't do her job. My dad is a no body. He's only been buying Acura's--an expensive luxury car line in case you're dumb ass didn't notice--from this place for the past 15 years. Also, I know you tried to cover your ass up by telling your boss my dad dropped the 'f' bomb on you.

No, you idiot, he didn't.

So not only can you not do your job, you're also a liar! Let me guess, your boyfriend dumped your pathetic cheap ass so you decided to take it out on my dad. Maybe your cat died, bitch I don't know nor give a shit. All I know is that is not how you talk to customers, especially ones who drop $40-80k on a vehicle. This doesn't just extend to my dad either. I work in retail too, and I know how hard it can be to be nice to customers, but you? You're just a dumb bitch. I wish my dad did drop the 'f' bomb on you.

I also hope you lose your job, since you can't handle the one you have now.

Hoping your car gets keyed-
Me.

I originally posted this a few weeks ago, but I went back and changed a few things and added some things.


Dahlia flipped the switch off in her office as Peaceful Pines Funeral Home. The room engulfed itself in black, almost matching her suit. The only thing that stood out in the room was Dahlia’s pale blonde hair and electric blue eyes. She looked in one last time at the casket at the front of the main chapel. Her red mouth pouted down, her eyes lost their sparkle. The casket should have been brought in tomorrow morning, but the delivery men insisted they deliver tonight for tomorrow’s 9am funeral. Inside was a boy she didn’t know, but her heart sank when she met the family, or rather, his very single and now very lonely mother.

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the grey drizzle on the green grass
which cushions the soles of my rough cracked feet
moisturizing with the morning dew
stinging me where blood has sealed a crack

the clouds break
the cold dries up on my arms
as the sun bleeds through
pouring hot on me.

I can remember the look in his eyes when they first made contact with my own. They lingered for a few seconds, a small smirk graced his round face. He was tall and lanky, and a thin gold bank graced his long, lanky ring finger. Sweat graced his brow. The room we were all seated in was small and brown, with all 5 of the windows opened to allow the hot August air to waft in and out. We all sat in our wooden chairs with clothing sticking unsympathetically to ourselves, with darker stains showing proud where sweat had collected.

"Fuck," I said under my breath. The boy next to me didn't hear me. The lanky man leaned on the podium at the front and introduced himself. We were to call him Mr. Widowsphere, and he was going to help up become better literature critics. No one said anything, but his eyes touched mine again. This was nearly 5 years ago. I was young, naive, and I couldn't think critically about literature. He didn't change my critical thinking habits.

An email sent to my work address with his name on it. We had kept in touch over the years, awkwardly going from formal names to first names, finally settling on nicknames we gave each other. The email was startling. We hadn't spoken in nearly 3 months and here he was knocking on my in box asking me when I was free for lunch. My eyes glued themselves to every word, my concentration finally broken by Brenda, the heavy set woman who wore too much bronzer on her paper white face. Her voice was like nails on a chalkboard. Her hair was dyed white blond with her dark roots showing more then just an inch of themselves on her scalp. We could always smell her before she arrived. Perfume like an old age home, her clothing smelled like mold, her breath reeked of stale coffee, cigarettes, and just a hint of a mint she had after. She leaned over my shoulder, her fat bulbous breasts laid onto my left shoulder, pouring out onto the front. Her loud pink mouth snapped and popped the gum she was chewing. Her breath was heavy since her fat little legs couldn't carry her very far without her losing her breath.

"Oooh, Alex hmm? Who is he?" She hissed. I clicked the 'x' button. "That's not fair! I want to know what my employee's are doing on my time other than working!" I looked at my moniter. "Come on, tell me all about Alex!" A week ago a publisher had contacted me about publishing my novel that I spent 2 years on. The contract was for more than I had been making all 3 years combined at this doctors office. My first check would arrive this week. "You know I once dated an Alex. He was so handsome, but he made me feel a little dumb." She said more casually, her breasts now digging themselves into me. I pushed the rolling chair back into Brenda, rolling over her fat feet. She let out a yelp and fell back, causing the wall behind her to shake.

The girl next to me, a dew faced high school girl, looked at me with large dark eyes, her mouth open trying to say something. My desk was bare. I had no photographs of my dog or my friends up, I didn't keep any food at my desk. All I had was the computer that was here before me. I picked up my large bag, looked at Brenda who was howling in pain on the floor, and I walked out. I took fast strides and avoided eye contact with everyone there. The place smelled like x-ray machines and death. It was swallowing me. I threw open the glass doors and tripped down two of the stairs, catching myself on the railing. My heart beat against my chest, my pulses throbbed and screamed into my brain.

I reached into my pocket for the pink Blackberry. I quickly dialed the numbers he had given me. I pressed the phone to my ear with the large bar through the cartilage, and waited without breathing at the ringing started.

"Hello?" He answered,
"Alex? It's Marla."

The next morning James slowly opened his eyes. He blinked once, then twice, and closed his eyes again. When he opened them again, he noticed Nicole’s long hair spilling down her back in long, lazy curls. He could see the faint outline of her midnight black eyelashes peeking out from her hair. He sat up and edged his way over to her. She turned her face to him when she felt the bed shift, her blue eyes lighting up.
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The end of April should never feel this hot. Did the world forget that a mere two weeks ago it was in the lower 40's, and now it's reaching 91? I lay in my grass with my eyes closed, absorbing the sneak peak of heat I'll feel all the time in a mere month. The smell of fresh cut grass, the sounds of birds chirping high in my tree's, and the calm lazy wind takes me back to a calmer time when summer was the most sacred of all school vacations.

I'm older now. The two girls who lived next door to me were murdered by their own mother after their father ate his last meal of pain killers and vodka. The mother shoot herself in the head after she took in the site of her two daughters mangled bodies laying in a pool of their blood on top of the lime green plush rug they loathed in their bedroom. This was two summers ago. The house has yet to be sold. The pool in they built when I was a baby in their backyard has become a breeding ground for mosquito's, and a final resting place for small animals that get too close.

When the bodies were found a week after they were killed, my parent's took a sudden vacation three states away at the beach. It was a beautiful beach, far more glamorous than the one that's only 3 hours away from me. I go back every summer now with my sister and my boyfriend, trying to re-capture my lost innocence, but always instead finding the skeletons still buried in my closet.

Alassandra flipped the switch off in her office as Peaceful Pines Funeral Home. The room engulfed itself in black, almost matching Alassandra, except for her pale blonde hair which still stood out even at night. She looked in one last time at the casket at the front of the main chapel. Her red mouth pouted down, her green eyes lost their sparkle. The casket should have been brought in tomorrow morning, but the delivery men insisted they deliver tonight for tomorrow’s 9am funeral. Inside was a boy she didn’t know, but her heart sank when she met the family. The boy, or rather young man, was a day shy of turning 21 when a drunk driver slammed into his car. She took a step inside the chapel. The red carpet on the floor matched the black pews nicely. The walls were a dull white, with a large crystal chandelier hanging from the center of the room. The casket was on top of a platform, with a pulpit off to the side. She placed her pale hands together and lifted them to her chest, and prayed to anyone that would listen for the boy and his family. Her green eyes gazed up once more, and she turned her back and began to walk out.
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Dear Lady Who Lives Two Houses Down From Me,

On Saturday, my boyfriend Pat took my dog Spencer out to play. They were playing together on my front lawn. Spencer was happily jumping and wrestling with Pat, and Spencer wasn't even barking! So, why in the hell would you make it a point to walk over, stand in front of my lawn, and proceed to tell my boyfriend,

"You need to keep him on a shorter leash!"

Please explain that one to me. They were both on my front lawn, not being noisy. I was watching them from my window. I went outside when you stopped in front of my house even, and you quickly ran away. So...You're also a coward too. I don't get it. I don't get you. Your dog gets out from your yard and always lands in my front lawn on a very frequent basis, but I never complain. Dogs are awesome. Your attitude however, is not awesome. I don't tell you to remove your busted ass pickup truck, you know why? CAUSE IT'S NONE OF MY DAMN BUSINESS.

So, I would like to kindly ask for you to mind your own fucking business, and to stay away from my house, my lawn, my dog, and everything else that is my property.

No love,

me.

Two of Baltimore's finest has paid a visit to my home tonight and early this morning. The first time being at 1am, the second time being at 6:33am. Apparently during last night's storm our phone line got jacked and is now all statiky! So we call Verizon around 1:30, and the lady says she can get a technician to us...APRIL 11TH. Verizon does not feel that a phone that is making false calls to 911 is an actual problem. "Oh it's cool just let the cops waste their time while someone is getting mugged a block over" type of deal. We hang up, nothing else to do.

So, 6:33am. I'm dreaming of the Watchmen when all of the sudden I hear a banging on my back door. I panic. Only people that know us use that door, so I'm thinking it's you know...SOMEONE I KNOW. And then I peer into the hallway, and there's someone shining a flashlight.

Fuck my life.

It's the police.

So I ran back and woke my dad up. By this time the cop had come to the front door. We let him in and explained the situation. He checked the phone for us, and said he would let the dispatcher know. He said this happens a lot, sometimes up to 20 times PER DAY per household, and Verizon usually doesn't do anything about it.

So, Verizon, you pieces of shit you, maybe you don't think of the phones crank calling 911 a real problem, but you see, I DO. The cops aren't coming to YOUR house, while YOU'RE asleep, at all hours of the night. NO! SO WHY DO YOU CARE, RIGHT?!? Well, you stupid little fuckers, I'll tell you why you SHOULD give a fuck. Believe it or not, Baltimore is still a crime ridden, drug infested whore of a town (AND I LOVE HER DEARLY) so needless to say, the cops in the town have better things to do then respond to my phone being stupid. I know you can't come in until April 11th because, hey, we all have problems! Apparently you're too busy fixing John Doe's loud ring tone to bother with my phone dialing 911. Hey, no, I understand. Crank calling the police when they could instead be saving a life should totally take a back seat!

Well, Verizon, I hope to God that you never find yourself in a situation where you need help from any police anywhere, and no one can respond because, oh, all the phones hooked up via Verizon are making crank calls to the cops so no one can respond to your legit call. That would truly be terrible, and it could have been avoided, IF YOU FIXED THE DAMN PHONES.

No love in the world,

me.

P.S>>

Verizon Wireless doesn't care about humanity.

Also, the cops were more then friendly and understanding, so I applaud the BCPD for a job well done.

Lina leaned on the white counter of her work, her arms folded in supporting her lithe frame. Her short brown hair hung limp around her pale face, with its big brown eyes and pale lips turned down into a frown. Across from her, an opened Playboy magazine sat defiantly on the shelf with the children Easter books. She stares at it intently, thinking about the kind of person that would do such a lewd thing. She shrugged her shoulders and limply walked over and picked it up. She held it open for a few seconds, taking in the naked bronze women with 30 pounds of makeup. She quickly closed it and looked around to see if anyone else was watching her, but her mall was never busy on a Tuesday morning. She walked it behind the counter, tore the cover off, and threw the rest of the magazine in the trash.

The other girl working with her, a girl with short pink hair and eyeliner that fell into a spiders webs at the corners, came out from the back with a stack of new Baltimore magazines. She tossed one to Lina who thumbed through the magazine. She stopped at a story with a picture of a small Asian woman wearing a red coat. She stood against the Inner Harbor at night, which was lit up beautifully, casting a watery mirrored image into the Chesapeake. Lina's eyes flicked to a text blurb. 'My husband was mugged outside our Patterson Park home and died while in a coma three days later.' Lina blinked and exhaled. The girl with the pink hair bobbled up and down behind her as she walked to the back.

"Hold on," she said, holding the story up. The girl looked at her with wide blue eyes. "Did you look through this month's issue?" She nodded 'no', her pink hair swishing back and forth. "This lady," she said, tapping the picture of her causing the paper to crease "suddenly want's to change Baltimore City's crime problem because her husband was mugged and killed. You know, if this had happened to someone else, do you know what she would do? She would turn off her television, complain about how dangerous Baltimore is, and she would go to sleep not thinking twice about it! But because her husband just happened to get mugged, now she thinks its her job to try and save Baltimore. Give me a goddamn break." She slammed the magazine on the counter and leaned against the other one, her back to the store. The girl with pink hair shrugged, and then went to finish her job in the back room. Lina strummed her fingers loud on the counter. Her eyes darted to the computer's tiny clock on the screen, and a grin crossed her face. She walked in the back, grabbed her brown leather bag, and left.

"See ya tomorrow," the girl cried from the back. Lina walked into the art deco mall with its tall white pillars and royal marble floors. Almost every store however was boarded up, never to be open again with a lovely retail store. She walked out into the humid Baltimore summer. Her orange dress stuck to her pale skin, so pale that you could see her thick blue veins from miles away. Her pink flip flops were lose on her bony feet, since her big toe was separated from her other toes by an inch. She walked with her arms swaying back and forth to her gray Mercedes Benz E 350 that her father had given her as a birthday gift. The engine roared as she started the car, the black leather seats burned her skin.

When she pulled into the driveway of her 1950's rancher house in the suburbs, she was greeted by her boyfriend Will sitting on her front manicured lawn with her large white Samoyed, Spencer. Spencer got up and ran over to Lina, who cooed and spoke in baby talk to her dog, who jumped up to kiss her. Will didn't get up, but beckoned for her to come sit down in the shade under her large, old pine tree's.

"No, it's way too hot. I wanna go swimming." She pulled off her orange dress to reveal a plain blue swimsuit. Will shrugged and followed her into her backyard, where she jumped into her fathers in ground amoeba shaped pool.