.do you like face, do you, do you like face.

i am currently seeking the following: a normal man. 
1. you say normal, i say compos mentis-show me a man who's peculiar.eccentric.lucidus.a well-adjusted man who sweats emotional stability. give me this-and i'll give you ill give you  :)  
2. must have clive owen's charm and eric bana's face.(tastes like you but sweeter.) 
3. must understand the notion of 'la homme fatale.' (in case you're incapable of making 'rational' decisions at one point, please don't complain. there's only room for one needy person in this triangle.)
 4. must understand the cataleptic spasm that stirs in my flesh- indifferent, irresponsible, insensible, poisoning. 
5. must be able to seduce me, at all times. 
6. i am seeking the obsessive, the compulsive, the neurotic, social-manic paranoid butterfly- ... basically normal. 
7. histrionic personality disorder: pattern of excessive emotionality and attention-seeking, (with an excessive need for approval and inappropriate seductiveness). commit to memory. 
8. must play NO games: frisky pup seeks some tail. tired of going in circles. 
9. ill be the baby seagull- you feed me regurgitated raw fish--i'll provide the vomit inducer, you bring the strap-on beak. (no weirdos, please.) 
10. must hate cats. if you're allergic, i'm in love. 
11. must speak innocent english. 
12. must have a high credit score: with a lot of points accrued, you may get away with cheating on me (jk) (focus valentina, normal. focus. focus.) 
13. an intelligent man: just because you're into algebra, U + I does not = 69 
14. im seeking a rich old man with a bad heart and no relatives, (just kidding, but what a great ending? )


P - provocative (or seductive) behavior 
R - relationships, considered more intimate than they are
A - attention, must be at center of
I - influenced easily
S - speech (style) - wants to impress, lacks detail
E - emotional lability, shallowness
M - make-up - physical appearance used to draw attention to self
E - exaggerated emotions - theatrical

.waltz from sleeping beauty.

hey realize now my friend, for i'm crouched in a whole like a mud-streak fugitive. and here i am my arms wrapped around my knees, my sneakers laceless. i am ready to run, and who gives a shit where i'm going. quite ironic when you give all you have in order to give yourself to the moment, to only find time to place your bluff on hold...to only have it hang up on you. (times out...don't you think.)

you're rigid, yes you. pathologically addicted. your sense of demeanor so filthy like the pits of a thousand endorphins waiting to bathe. yet you let them sweat, yes you, your smile widening, the stench roasting, the mind re eking. the taste of distastefulness becomes pleasant.

do you find me odorless? my powerfulness. (i like a little dirty with my clean.) well, then let me shower you with words made of knives, for if you're slicing me with love allow me to bleed in vanity. let my sadness permeate the smell of pine trees, of crouching tigers, and eyeless pumpkins; of whining bottles, pitiless dams, and crooked smiles.

make believe you're brave, the trick will take you far. you may be as brave as you make believe you are. i'm back to black, (my soul laced in fuck you pumps, bathing in a tub of sociopaths).

.dark roasted memoirs.

I sweat coffee—sweat it through my nostrils, and the back of my palms, and sometimes when I’m really excited, I catch the stuff peeping behind my toes. You know- the big fat one, with the delicious callous attached to the bone, Splenda sweet, but oh so good. Oh look, here comes tall latte number eight. And a Times. Just take it you asshole. Don't sit there perusing the headlines as if you haven't decided whether the events of the world are important enough for you today. And what'll it be? A latte? What a surprise. You, my friend, are dynamic. You're a firecracker, you. 

         Jesus. Well, here it comes. Frappachinos, fucking Frappachinos, the most inanely complicated beverage known to man. You might as well ask for a couple of damn mojitos while you’re at, because I would love to run across the damn street to Mangos and grab you some God damn mint leaves, because you're so damn special. Just wait. Just wait till you realize no one will ever love you if you're visible in side-view and start drinking iced black drip with two equals like the big girls do. 

            I just hope your boss finds out. I hope he brings it up at one of the "team meetings." I hope he uses you as an example and points out that you're not "working as part of a whole" or "being a link in the chain." I hope he blasts your ass so bad that all the little Starbies shit their khakis and trade in their shifts to work in co-ops and stop shaving their armpits. I hope he gets so mad that the vein in his forehead bursts and the foam slurping teeny boppers puke bitter when they see his face and run out on Starbucks so fast that they trip over the lives they left behind and fall face first into non-beverage identities, shards of real existence, personality shrapnel. I hope they all leave and you can stand here alone, shoving your damn apron through the grinder, drinking the pulp of your bane and spitting out the grounds, screaming at the top of your lungs that coffee is dead and so are we.

            Damn drones. Write my name on a cup, for I weep caramel.