"Untitled"

Tell me a story of a girl I once knew.

I once knew not so long before.

Who never knew where she stood.

Dependant on others for her own comforts.

Who couldnt finish a sentence.

She will never know what it is she needs to fill the

hole in her head.

So she stuffs it with emotions,

too much, or too litte.

Confused by her reflection.

Intrigued by the numbers on her scale.

Pleased by the show of her bones.

Shamed by the curves that make her a woman.

Screaming for anothers ear and a new shell to carry

her soul.

Which was boarded up with the growth of her breasts

and hips,

to protect her from the minds of testostrone and hands

with bitten fingernails and calluses

Which wander in fields of flesh and strands of hair,

which leads to insertion of sharp knives into delicate

flowers,

which cuts undercooked meat that leaves the body as

soon as it enters the porclelin bowl.

Which is used so often it never refils until a brief

time when she can be used again.

by Nicole T.

"Untitled"

When I am sick my mother makes me tea.

She sweetens it with honey

I dont enjoy tea that much.

chaomile tea, mint tea, green tea,

some are suppose to cleanse you system.

When I am sick I dont want tea.

I am tea when I am sick.

Brewed, boiled, and cleansed.

sipped slowly,

add a sour lemon,

stains your teeth.

leaves a ring around your coffee table.

digest it, discard it,

flushed and run down a pipe.

joining the stench and toxins of others.

How it runs through my blood and seeps into my skin.

I guess this is my new bodily scent.

I'll stick to my double lattes when I am sick.

Make the daily stop to the drugstore.

Build my collection of bodywash,

I still cant get clean.

Blame it on the lack of sleep.

My bodies inablility to fight toxins.

The myth that vitamin C works,

I am always sick.

I am wasting away because I have become waste.

Just another day.

I hear the teapot whistling...

by Nicole T.

"different jeans, different seasons"

I button up my jeans,

They slide to the floor,

I stare at the ground,

soon my body will blow away like ashes,

and be free,

circulating around the air,

inhaled by everyone outside,

filling their lungs,

In a breath of exhalation

a gift of energy I give to them,

I'll just find a belt

and happen to forget about dinner.

I used to not mind

that pain in my stomach

looking at labels is a routine like brushing my teeth,

this scale is broken.

the other scale is too old.

Maybe i should take off my socks

different jeans for different seasons.

food cant make me full, so why should I eat it?

an empty stomach.

a empty heart.

a five course meal fried and battered.

ended with whipped cream and extra toppings at a cheap

chain restaurant.

fills my brain

its full and tired.

ready for a nap

anti-acids wont help your head.

but, if you take enough

they will distract you.

Someday favorite pair of jeans will fit the same every

season.

by Nicole T.

Last Update
Sept. 6th 2005