Poetry at baseball games...a rare commodity

My leg are a familiar sight.
I like the veins in the top of my feet.
Tendons crawl as my toes wiggle around.
The tan line from my slippers
flip flops, I guess.
Chipped polish; I can't ever keep it looking nice.
There's that spot on my ankle that the razor
always misses.
My eyes graze over my shins,
the two huge scars
and the ones in between, filling the gaps between purplish gashes.
I made up stories for those scars,
adventures that didn't happen.
Maybe I wish they did.
For those who don't buy my tales
I take out my pen.
The scars become monsters with fangs
and angry eyes.
My knees bring on nostalgia
of summers
filled with rollerblading and climbing trees.
Bug bites
in the little indent just next to my kneecap.
Hardest place to scratch.
My thighs
scabbed and bumpy.
I just itch sometimes;
I can't help it.

My freckles.
My freckles I like.

Happy Galactic Day one and all

It was actually yesterday.

God I'm bitter

Today I suddenly found myself festering in bitter memories. Maybe this was brought on by my canceled plans. Probably. Because under normal circumstances, the thunderstorms alone would make me absolutely thrilled.

Anyway, Elsa Bross. My creative writing teacher from eighth and ninth grade. Eighth grade went well. Ninth grade did not. I won't go into details, but we had an issue. A big one. One that sent me to the principal and got me in moderate trouble. I fucking hate this woman with every fiber of my being. I had two loves at that point in my life. One was writing and she fucking stole it from me.

Because of this woman I did not write during my high school career. At all. I didn't even do writing homework. Fuck her.

I googled her name and found her on Facebook. She has two kids now, lives in Montevideo. Fuck I just want to punch her. Four years later and I still want to cause her bodily harm.

My nail beds are a mess.

I haven't posted in over a week. I really have nothing to say, I just feel obligated to put something here.

Current state of things:
Sitting on Joey's couch. He just tried to strangle me and is now harassing his dog Sammy who he just shoved in my face. Joey is currently on a massive sugar high because we consumed very large amounts of cotton candy at Kyle's grad party. We also just composed a monster movie theme song type thing. On a Saturday night. Too cool. Work is normal, things are normal.

I think Joey's going to ditch out on our camping trip. Which sucks. But if he doesn't go it means that I'll take my brother. Which doesn't suck. I figure that as soon as he graduates, he won't be around much. I should take advantage of sibling bonding while I still can.