This is about my life and how it feels dead.

This is about how I can't just, "work it out," because there's no one out there to say "I love you to."

This is about how there dosen't seem to be a sollution and this is about how I can't resolve things with an imaginary dream.

This is about how I lay down at night unsatisfied and untouched and barren as the desert.

This is about the Zoo lights and my dad pretending to be cool, and my embaressment but mostly my admiration.

This is about how my admiration turns into black jealousy and I can't see a damn thing.

This is about my hair and my feet, my hands and my sweat.

This is about all of those boys who called me ugly and hairy...they broke my spirit.

This is about the cracks that are still making it hard for my heart to pump.

This is about how Katie and I used to do the spider on the swing, and sit on the same toilet...I wasn't cool enough for her eventually.

This is about how we are all just trying to make it in the world...and this is about what the television says we should be.

This is about my first relaxer and the denial of my heritage. You can never understand how I don't even know who I am.

This is about how I am not being patient and how I'm trying in vain.

This is about his symapthy pains for his mother my sympathy pains for my sister...my sympathy pains for myself.

This is about how I wouldn't go into popeyes in Northeast Portland, because I was scared of the stigma attached to your skin color, mine just happens to be the same.

This is about self fulfilling prophacies, I must learn to make positive ones.

This is about how I don't know what to do and I keep talking about death...and it's OK with me.

Seems we're back to the begining. I sure know how to pick 'em. I treid to dance today and was returned with blank stares, my plight is unique...so don't hold me back with yours, and struggle when I bring you down, and never let me succeed.

Home is calling, it is doing that, way down in the gut thing, animal, rabid, screaming so that the whole world vibrates.

He said to kill him in a humane way, maybe give him some drugs that would just make him go to sleep forever. I will make a potion out of my tears and sweat, the death inside, and he won't wake.

Sometimes you just have to say no.

Order, my life needs. Breath, my life needs, come breath here in this place between my lips and it will be a kiss...revisit my soul.

He told me he was always here for me today, "just come visit my office, but his eyes kept wandering to the door where people came in and out denying thier lives are also a mess.

Tedious, always tedious, and the point stuck somewhere between the sun and real meaning. It's so dim, my pupils dialate letting in more then light.

Don't worry about it because I love you, and never stop calling me Liz, it lets me know you feel the same.

Bitter, so bitter I can taste it. It doesn't go down well and how come it makes me want to rebell.

The bile in your throat makes me remember the times I was very sick, clinging to my throw up bucket, clinging to my sanity, telling my mom not to leave so I would have someone to call the police when my guts finally fell to the floor. Those were not good days, lets not revisit them.

He did look pretty tonight. Maybe he had a hot date with the girl of his dreams...lust can do that to a boy.

I am a hypocrit and that's all right with me. I do what I feel and I never feel the same way twice. My life is always changing...nuance by nuance, watch it go.

I find myself craving middle school and the calm insanity of it all. There were so many years ahead of me then, and I'll tell you it was a certainty that I would live forever.

I can feel my mortality, my sensitivity to the cold. I can feel how fragile these fingers are, one snap and thier gone. If I touch my stomach, it's as if I have trooped on to uncharted territory just waiting to be colonized. Don't talk to me about how superior human beings are, about how each new advance in the medical field is a garantee of longer life. I want to feel this vulnrability, it keeps me good. I am not above the spider that scares me...could kill me. How arogant, how truly ignorant we all are, and why

I woke up this morning wishing the dream didn't have to end. But Uyen always says to smile, so let me work. It's some how alright with me already. Home changed me because I relized how I have changed. Oh, the new and improved Elizabeth, haven't you met? She is nicer, she cares about the women in music videos, she thinks tubas are great and Elsa is just as selfish as ever. She combs her hair to no avial and she says she doesn't care, so the screams won't come ripping out of her body, tearing around corners, trying to find your heart. She is so sad she can't even put it in words. It's just, heavy as hell...But as I said before home changed the heart that was turing blue in a turnicit of frustration. OK I'll give me that. The air was so smooth and my toes so cold, but that was the siccor. I felt like I had died and gone back to my original state. I slept without my teddy bear and my mom knew to give me Stephanie's. Go get Tucker, she said. And the cramps went away. I chanted my ass off, I'm gonna win, and it took on a new meaning. Where is the fear? It comes back, let me think of the times I forget it...Dinner, Tamisha and baby, I love you. Seth, he bumped his nose, his mother looked at my aunts picture and MY mother told me, they adore you. It's because I look like the mother they all lost and I know to treasure my vibrations. My dad told me once, "there's this look that you get on your face, and all I can see is my mamma." Oh dad, if you only knew how much she loved you.

The world must be spinning too fast, that would explain it. This clock in my head is ticking, I can hear it. It reminds me that I am behind, that I have too much work, that I have been so unproductive and now I'll pay. After this week who will I be. Frantic, remembering home, wishing I were there. It's nose to the grind stone, it's sorry there is no mercy, it's how come there are so many damn overachivers at this school...Do you sleep? A circle of I don't know, and I don't care, and what the hell is a world citizen anyway, and how come they love me...and what is there to love. I keep thinking I'll change, and then I don't...is it so slow i can't see it, my metamorphasis. My mom wrote a poem about a butterfly... it should have been my life...but it was hard to see through the redundancy and I told her so and I forgot the rest. He kept saying "you never know," and that wasen't even my point.

My aunts hair blew in the wind, brillow pad flexible and my eyes lit up because she is just as bossy as ever, "yes suh!" She has unbelievably soft skin. I'm looking foward to being old just so I can touch myself. I know Ken, your project calls.