the plan

feeling my stomach in knots,

not knowing what i want,

being asked questions like

defining love and what's my

dream job and curling up in the

cold and pretty basement,

my artsy friends so happy

here but me i'm screaming

silently waking up every

day and confused and my

stomach in knots, not knowing

what i want and trying to plan,

trying to save, throwing away

the plan for a grown up job

and casting myself as the

perpetual bartender, agent seeker,

audition goer, line memorizer,

meisner lover, pavement hitter.

still not feeling whole. feeling

empty and angry, angsty and

feisty. and wanting to be cool,

i want so bad to be cool, like the

cool kids who are singers,

band drinkers, with cool pants

and shirts and cool shoes and

hats and long hair and tatts.

lush's, addicts, strung out but

cool. they're cool. they don't

care, they're feelings never

get hurt, they only remember

because the photos on facebook.

over exposed bright flash, they're

pale skin and dark rimmed glasses.

i hate them and want to be them.

not caring. non chalant. crazy.

and i am going crazy. crazy.

living where nothing ever happens

and no one ever sees you,

everything tastes bland, the grass,

the sand and my screaming.

my stomach in knots, not knowing

what i want, confused, light

headed, being asked questions

and questions, questions.

los angeles, my question.