Citrus Love (revised after talking with Richard "The Persian" Hoyt

Today I bought three oranges
bought them with a card
but when I peeled the skin off one,
there was just a beating heart.

The second simply sprang a leak
water gushed right out
the inside was all aqueous
yet still a fruity drought

The third was stuffed with butterflies
majestic in their escapes
these wonders left me hungry
I should have bought some grapes

page 157 in the memoirs of a crossing guard

After we missed the bus I took your hand
and pulled you into the library.

Most of the lights were off and there was only one person left working
at the front desk, rolling pages into caterpillars.

We walked into the fiction section (Q-R) and remembered,

I built a cabin out of hardcovers
only your legs poked out of the front.

I left the roof open so we could watch the constellations
parade through the skylight.

In the morning our cabin had crumbled and been re shelved.

I asked if you wanted breakfast and we ate typhoon analysis spreadsheets

the data crisping on my Canadian stove.

a follow up

An hour after the previous post I received a phone call from the police telling me that they had found what might be my laptop. I ran across campus, slid down the stairs, and into the station. It was my computer.

I don't know what this means, or if it means anything at all.
Its beautiful.
I'm lucky.

Let's get dancy.

cleanse

My laptop was stolen last week

I wasn't as angry

as I was embarrassed

that a thief

dressed in velvet sheets and bandanas 

was reading my unfinished love poems

to you.

I'm hoping he will give me positive feedback.

Citrus Love

Today I bought three oranges
I bought them with a card
but when I peeled the skin off,
there was just a beating heart.

Gotta get my money's worth
Sink my teeth and pull.
Saturated, sweet, and summer
Firm and full

TimeWaster

SO much fun. Buckets of fun.
http://www.ronwinter.tv/drums.html

Life changing.
http://www.everystudent.com/videos/jobsearch.php

Purty.

A Selection of Animals I Trust vs Ones I Don't

Sheep
One of the good guys. They come in flocks and can be easily controlled by dogs. Also they're covered with fluff. Adorable. I trust them.

Zebras
You look like a horse in prison. Nice try. Don't trust you.

Rabbits
Despite how television portrays these guys, I think they are A-Okay. Rabbits don't say much, but they let you know where you stand. Easily domesticable.
I trust them.

Bunnies
Woah, hold up a second. Aren't bunnies the same as rabbits? They are right? Then why are they in here twice? I mean, I guess nothing changes, its just a little peculiar, is all. Uhhh...Still trust them, I guess.

Squirrel
Remember those wooden bird houses we all made at some point in grade school? They looked like this:Well I went and nailed mine to a tree in my backyard. A year later I went to check on it and opened the swinging flap door. BAM. Squirrel jumps out, onto my face, and down my shirt. When I stop screaming, I shimmy the squirrel out and run like hell.
DON'T TRUST SQUIRRELS.

Hares
Is this...are you serious? Another rabbit trying to pry his/her way in here? No way, not happening. Uneccessary amounts of names. Your an animal, pick one name and stick with it. I take back everything I said about rabbits or bunnies. Don't trust the whole lot.

Just So You Know

First off, I’d like to firmly claim that, despite what some people have been saying, I’m not crazy.

I’m more like the opposite of crazy. I’m sane. Sane as a songbird.
So sane.
I’m walking around all day and people are staring at me like I have some kind of arm growing out of my head, or worse a leg out of my arm, or worse yet a head growing out of my own original head. That is the worst possible option because a limb can be controlled, but an extra head will try to seize power.
But there are no weird growths on my body. I know because I wear a full body wetsuit under my clothes (just to be safe) and that layer would stop nearly anything. Even bullets. And curses.
I’d like to once more state that I am not crazy, in any way. Just ask my wife and best friend Stacy.
But Michael, you aren’t married, you might be thinking. WRONG. Just because no one has ever seen or spoken to my wife, doesn’t make her any less real. And just because there is no legal proof or government documentation of her existence. doesn’t make our love any less real. And just because our marriage certificate is made from crayon and uncooked macaroni doesn’t mean it isn’t official.
If you talked to my wife she’d tell you: I’m not crazy.
Not even a little.
Answer me this, naysayers, would a crazy man tattoo “I’m not crazy” in concentric circles from his nipples outward, creating a veritable web of non-craziness. The answer is no. I did that thing about the nipples and that proves it. Once something is written on your body it’s super true. Technically I’m King of America because I wrote that on my hand in pen, just pen. But I didn’t want to upset the system by proclaiming my kingship, but I will if things get too bad.
Furthermore, I own over two hundred collectible glass figurines of kids doing cute activities in the snow.
It just makes me so angry. All this hatred boiling inside of me like a thousand dragon sneezes. And, of course, the anger makes me a little testy, so I run around the supermarket throwing string beans around and yelling “HOP ON THE CHEDDAR TRAIN!! LAST STOP: THE MOON!!!!!!” Then the cashier gets upset when I try to pay with Korgles, a currency I developed based on my fingernail clippings. (Just as a point of reference, an American dollar is roughly equal to 3 Korgles and tennis ball I found under the couch.)
I know exactly what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, “Man, he’s so crazy.” That’s ‘cause I can read minds. So don’t try and hide from anything from me.
Well I could sit here all day, telling you how not crazy I am, but I have responsibilities, just like anyone else. From 3-4 I give all the canned goods in my house a bath, and sing each one a song before tucking it into bed. So maybe if caring for the things you love makes you crazy, then I’m crazy. Maybe if expressing emotions through dance and pyrotechnics makes you crazy, then I’m crazy. Maybe if making candles in my basement shaped like your face makes me crazy, then I’m crazy.
But if not, I’d like to assert once more that I’m not crazy.