,,

to educate me; I would be pleased (act ll)

please rock my head, quietly pat my face.
shake your pride; and dear,
dear; define the dark for
me.
show me you're dark soul
the one wrapped in deep sweaters.
the one to defy.
one to scorn.
create me vile works of art;
ones entitled to the name of the devil.
hear my dry mind; think of hard reasons.
hear; my dear, hear my heels
click against the wood.
take the texture of shame
straighten your back.
brush your hair.
clean your shirt.
tie your shoes.
leash your thoughts.
my dear,
leash me.
label me kindly.
scorn my child.
hold my child.
comfort my child.
i am your child.

one time, i was told artists were insane; their single purpose.
create art.
sometimes; i tell myself. writing is art. but only if you're good.
i need insanity.

to educate me, I would be pleased.

When my mama prays, she prays her best prayer. I'm on my knees, and they hurt real bad, because my mama's best prayers are always long. Sometimes she scrunches her face when she feels stuff from her heart. I look over to my dad, he nods when my mama says something real nice; or when she prays that this nation will be alright. My dad has brown hair; but now it's turning a little gray at the edges. His eyes are wrinkly and he always breathes heavy when we pray. He always looks so old when my mama prays. Maybe it's because he loves her so much; that the rest of his love, is gone. Or maybe he misses his brother. His twin brother. His dead brother. I guess he thinks about his brother when my mama prays. That probably makes his face look real tired; but I know his heart never stops lovin'. Sometimes my daddy peeks back at me; and then he snaps his fingers or smashed his eyes very tight; his way of telling me to close my eyes. I look down instead; I just look down with my eyes, not my head, because then it looks like I'm closing my eyes, when I'm not. 
I keep my eyes open when my mama prays. I stare straight ahead and look out the windows. I blink and breathe and sigh; for the other humans who feel sad, like me. But I figured, God would understand. 
My mama tells me that God knows everything about me. He knows about how I think, even about my longings. About me and everything.
One time after she told me how God knows me personally, just like she always does, I said back to her, "Yes mama, you like to tell me that. But the thing is, I don't know Him."
I think that broke her heart, because then she went to her room; and shut the door.
She was there for a long, long time.
But shouldn't God know that I get nervous to close my eyes and sit still for a long time. Shouldn't He know that I'm scared to not see anything, and only hear my mama's voice echo in my head.
"Please bless us, God, bless us that we will all be well and bless our hearts that we will be humble and not prideful. Bless our neighbors and our community; please especially bless this nation, that it will prosper and that we will be guided by wisdom."
My daddy nods.
I look straight.
Yes, God should know me, 
and everything,
so sometimes I whisper, in my best whisper, to myself, "God if you know me,,just let it be ok that I keep my eyes open,, and make my daddy not look so tired anymore." Then I say, "Sorry God, sorry for being a bad human soul." 
All while my mama keeps praying and my daddy keep nodding.
and I keep breathing and sighing.


-sarah.

the and's & ends of life. and. and.

There's been too many times when I've wanted to say something. but rather than opening my mouth; I bite my tongue till it bleeds. And if you think this is just an expression; that is where you are at fault. Yes, yes. This does happen to me.
It's ok.

so. Here's a toast; 
A toast to everyone else who bites their tongue, rather than speaking.
Here's to all the girls who have a swift attachment to their split ends and to their raggedy hair.
Here's to all the families on food stamps, God bless your souls.
and I do mean it.
I mean it hard.
Here's to who ever uses dry reasons and loves the dry seasons; as well as the dry hearts and dry minds.
Here's to my dad; who looks up ballets and to his politics; and how he shyly, every so shyly, asked me if I would like to watch a movie, The Dead Poets Society, with him.
Here's to how I nodded and agreed.
Here's to my politics.
Here's to people who fill their lungs, black, with tar; here's to your addiction. Here's to your source of happiness. Here's to your yellow teeth and dark rings around your eyes.
There, there. I know; I know. It hurts and you know it's wrong.
But the pleasure it consistently, and never fails to bring; 
is, and always will be, worth it.
Here's to that pleasure. 

this one is for myself.
Here's to me.
and my low ACT score; and how I blushed when I saw it.
Here's to Mitt. Yes, Mitt as in Mitt Romney.
Good game pal. Good game.
Here's to all of you who speak French; and how for those few moments I truly do fall in love with you; when you speak your silly little French language. Because I decided that's what love feels like.
Love feels like listening to someone speak French while you smile at them; not from admiration. No hardly, from admiration; but because you love to listen to their voice when they speak their silly, silly French language.  
Here's to all the girls out there; who don't realize how charming you truly truly are. Girls, dears. You're worth it. i.e. Katie Kokol.
hell, here's one for Katherine Jane. And to how her middle name is not actually Jane but I still love it just as much I love her.
Here's to her strong and beautiful personality. Here's to her demure soul and to her little hands that make every girl jealous and wish to have hands like Katie Kokol. Here's to her surety in herself; and to her ability to write and make things sound beautiful. Here's to her fall season and to her counting and complaining.
Here's to her.
My dear. 
Here's to you.
Here's to you; who stand by my side and make me strong. Here's to you and your faith in me and my hardships. Here's to you and your persistence in helping, always helping, me.
Here's to you tess.
Here's to you mom.

Here's to all you, crack heads.
and to your drugs.
enjoy those bad boys.
Here's to the sad books written in the sad fall weather that make you sad and everything around you feel, and seem, over terribly sad. Here's to anyone who is writing a book in this sad fall weather.
Here's to you and your accomplishments. 
Here's to you and your mean, penumbra, harsh thoughts but ever greater; here's to all you and your mean, penumbra, harsh thoughts, that you explore and twist and turn into bucolic things. 
Here's to all you who live in the bungalow of your heart; and manage to never let your thoughts escape.
while yet, exploring them in your free time. 

Yes; most defiantly here's to you.

Here's to Justin Vernon; because every time i hear you sing, something deep with in me is being sung to. And sometimes; if I'm in a sad enough mood, I feel my own heart. That feeling when I'm so sad, so engulfed in despair and ultimate guilt that I physically feel my heart hurt; yes Justin, you do this to me. and I love you only in those moments. 
Here's to the word talisman, noun, \ˈta-ləs-mən, -ləz-\ meaning: a good luck charm. 
Here's to how you're my good luck charm; and how you will never even know.
Here's to how you'll never know me; or my personality. fully.
but how I know you, and your ability to charm me and have me smitten over you and how I have a perfect image of who you are; whether it is true, I do not care to be informed, because my perfect image of you can never be inured because you're my last admiration and I promised to not let it fade. No, not this time.
And if you so happen to ask me, who my secret admiration is for; I will shrug, because there's no way your opinion, whether it be good or bad, will affect my view on this person.
Here's to me and my hypocrisy.
Yes. here's to that.
Here's to the rest of 'em. to the rest of you. 
to the rest of time.
Here's to you; if you didn't fall under any of the previous categories in which I toasted to.
Here's to you.
Here's to you and your blandness.


one last toast.
Here's to my mistakes. to my worries. to my shyness and timid ways that limit me and my abilities. Here's to my abilities. Oh, how I would love to develop my abilities and get past  how scared I get.
Here's to how scared I get. How I get scared to succeed or progress. How I have bad dreams where everyone at school makes me cry; and how I get scared to go to school the next day. Here's to how I get scared to be myself; and feel happy. or even accept that fact that I can still feel happy. Here's to how I long to feel loved and needed. Oh yes, here's to my longing. Here's to self pity. How I love to lull myself to sleep in my pity; because pity is comfort.
proven fact; from sarah thueson.
Here's to how I regret many things I never said; or never did. That could've made someone's day easier, but yet; I remembered myself and cried in my pity.
Here's to how I'm pitying myself right now.

Here's to my most and sincere apology. 
my dears.
forgive me.

Here's to you and your blandness.
Here's to me and my self pity.
Here's to the rest of 'em.
and the rest of time.

-she huffed and she puffed.
and she blew herself down.
sarah janelle.

brood (n) - to think alone.

dear god; bless this nation.
and watch over me.
and my family. 

acorss these states we must go.

for all those lost souls out there; this is goes out to you. 

guidepost for a solemn life.
1. when there's snow on the ground, and the dog is barking. and you hate this day. 
suck on your bottom lip. sometimes it hurts after sucking for so long; but it's guaranteed to hurt more than what you feel.
2. learn how to spell well. and speak grammatically. there's nothing better than speaking English correctly when you feel mad. (best to do in public to show everyone you're right and they're wrong.)
3. cut you're nails. cut them so short it hurts to type, or to bite. cut them so short you hate everything about them. 
4. open your window when it's winter. and have the heater running at the same time.
5. ---- call me and i'll tell you 5, and 6.
6.
7. stay in order. it proves you can do one thing right.
8. keep to yourself. keep to yourself when it comes to anything. and everything. keep to yourself when people ask you who you are.
reply and say. i don't know. they won't understand; but they will leave you to be. 
9. be honest in your thoughts. and write your thoughts down. don't be afraid if you sound like a bad human being - because in all reality. that's exactly who you are. so why try and pretend you're something when you're not.
chew on that for awhile.
10. look up, 100 most beautiful words in the English lanuage. 
use them.
11. always end on a sad note.

and sometimes say, dear God, help me.




just to inform you. i made a list of real humans.
you're not on there.
neither am i.
i only put one human on that list.
his name is, they boy who sits behind nathan in our math class.
he's tall. and plain. and linky. 
so naturally. i love this human more than anyone else i know.

alabama, arkansas, i do love my ma and pa.

sometimes. when people are trying to explain something to me. i don't even listen. i just pretend that i listen; which to me, is the same concept. because it's ok to pretend listen when you don't actually care. that's called being a friend. and friends talk to much i think. sometimes; i just want to grab them by the shoulders and shake them, and say, why do you talk so much. and then release them and leave. - that's my best quality. just walking away. 

one time i walked up to this kid and asked him if he does weed.
he shrugged and nodded.
i said. that's disappointing. and that means you're an idiot.
then i walked away.
(we're still friends so it's ok.)
 
an other time. some kid was flipping me off. ^ same kid.
i like him.
i said. Im not going to flip you off back. im better than that.
then i walked away.
(still friends.)
 
last night i was fighting with my dad. really hard.
and both our faces were getting red. and mad.
then i walked away.

today. my teacher was trying to yell at me. and i didn't care what she had to say. especially because she already signed my transer slip.
so i walked away.
-examples of sarah's best quality.
and ones that have occurred since friday night.

plus, i find it interesting that everyone in this WHOLE world is fake.
in one way or another. 
everyone at school pretends to be happy and normal and dumb-heads. why. though. why pretend. who are we all pretending for? i just think that there must be some award that will be passed out to the best pretend person. and everyone pretends not to know about it; even though everyone is running firm in this competition.
whatevereveryone.

plus. i already won. four years in a row. and my parents give me a pat on the head because i keep bringing home pretend awards.
examples.
grades.
"friends"
attitude.
surety.
whatevereveryone.

on a side note.
this is a poem. i wrote.

 ----
--screw---
---you---
----
suckthat.

no but really.
here.

the hearth of your heart
is shallow and cold.
while the moon paints;
you shutter,
your limp body.

nights encloses around you,
wolves tell their stories.
crying crying crying.
the quiet child speaks.
crying crying crying.

problems evolve. 
we are stunned. but not dead.
not dead. not.
dead.
the victor has no companion.
only the deep shades of blue.

time does not speak.
not dead. not dead.
the wind say their prayers.
the night sketches nightmares 
out for you.

crying crying crying.
dying dying dying.
your brow deepens.
while the call from hell reaches
your landline.

and the night has it's own nightmares.



there.there.
sarah.


You're a damn good read
I think we'd all agree
that there is not a word in any verse 
that you do not exceed

So all I think that's left to say
Is you're not half bad, hell, you're okay
To me

ok, ok. i know what you're thinking.

you: you know something, you're pretty.
really pretty.
me: i'm a girl.
girls are pretty.
you: no, you're more than just a girl.
i blinked. 
and stopped the thoughts that you were fond of me.
-thanks, you're pretty too.







here's the thing. 
you can call me, the-girl-with-ten-fingers-and-likes-nothing.

and i'll tell you we should be in love. 
and that's how our life will start.
we will buy a dog, and name him sandwich. you will have to promise me you won't die. 
and i will promise to die. 
i'll write sad songs with no meaning, and hum them to you while you are in the garage fixing our bikes. 
we'll hold hands and dig big holes.
i'll put away the dishes and wash my hair. we can count the seconds pass while searching for our love.
but we will find our love, because we just stored it away for the winter. 
my hands wont get dry, because you'll hold them to your face while you tell of your dead brother. 
we'll have children and name the west and forest. and if they are girls, we'll teach them how to be lady like. and we will be hypocrites.
our dog, sandwich will die. and you'll bury him deep deep into the soil, and in the summer i will plant flowers over his body. 
our children will leave us, and we will fill books of regrets and continue our steady belief in hypocrisy.
slowly, my hands will be dry; and full of old skin. slowly i will die. and you will bury me deep deep into the soil. and you'll plant flowers over my body. 
you'll bind the books of my regrets, with a strong strong leather and promise to never die. 
you continue hum my old songs while you're in the garage fixing our old bikes. 
you'll put away the dishes, and our love for the winter; and build pretty fires.
you'll keep your promise, just like you said. because you knew, dying isn't a matter of breathing.
it's a matter of living. and living was our life style.

we have a new perspective.

you told me that we could be in love.

i told you that i wanted you to love me.

we agreed on love.

you asked me if i like hugs. 

i said, i dont know. 

i said, you probably love hugs.

and fall time.

and hot chocolate.

and cold noses.

but not cold noses when they get runny. 

you probably love hearing people laugh.

or when someone are smiling so big you can hear it in their voice over the phone. 

you said, exactly, how did you know.

 i just said everything i like. 

we like the same stuff.

we are one human. 

hey, i need your attention.

heads up.
im changing my blog:
loveandpoemsduringthisfallweather.blogspot.com
funny how i think people read this  thing.

after the pen ink is everywhere.

 

and the gun shoots.

my eyes blink.

my knuckles crack.

my heart is drained.

i lost my love.

i lost my way.

i lost my trust.

i've lost you; even.

i've lost my voice.

i lost myself.

my heater is running.

my head is hurting.

my braids are tangled.

the medication is gone. 

and all i can unmanageably say.

is nothing. 

Maybe she's just trying to have fawn?

you know something.

sometimes i wish no one was good at anything. and we were all the same.
or.. or i was just the best at everything.
either will do.

the irony did not escape me.
-sarah.
i knew you would be gone fur a while.

hey; welcome.

the other day, i was sitting on the bus. and i was thinking; as usual. except for i was thinking about something out of the usual. i was thinking about other humans. and i know that is vague, but that is what i was thinking about. there was a sign that said, stolen chocolate lab. and it had the information and description listed below. i thought, why would someone want to steal a chocolate lab? that never really happens. people just don't steal dogs, only on movies they do that. like air bud. was the dog really stolen, or were the owners just mistaken? did they not want to admit that they dog could have just run away? i wonder who the owner's were. i considered calling them, and telling them i think i might have their dog. and then i would meet them; but that would be rude, because i don't really have their dog. i guess that would also be a lie. i wonder if the owners had little kids. and the dog and the kids were best chums. also, i was thinking about a boy in my neighborhood. his mom and me are friends. she said, you know i think the problem he has is he thinks too much. and too deep. but he said he though you were cool. then that got my thinking; me and that boy are the same. i think too much. and too deep; and then when i say something, people don't know how to respond, because it's too deep for them. or they just don't understand. i wanted to walk up to that boy and say, "hey, you know something. you and me got the same problem. we think too much." probably at this point he would conclude i have some physiological problems. but i just want him to know we are the same. but i can never do that, because i have to walk home with this girl from my neighborhood. and the boy walks in front of us. sometimes i wonder if he is listening to what we are saying.
and on a quick note.
on friday, i had fun. and it was real fun; fun that i haven't had for a long long time. when i came home, i just sat on my bed and thought about the night. how it all played out. i was so happy. i asked this boy if we were in love.
i think he heard, but pretended not to.
that was a smart move.
- soon, i will write a real blog post. probably. 
sarah. 

september10.

my name is sarah thueson and this is how i see the world and this is how i think. i am fifteen years old, and i go to high school. which is hard. mostly because i forgot how to make friends. and because i feel my skin has somehow become itchy. like a full body sweater, that is itchy. i like having pencils with a flat eraser though; i guess i like that about school. it's september now. fall. almost winter. almost time to wear scarves. fall makes me happy. it makes me happy to wake up, mostly because i sleep with my window open, so when i wake up, its freezing and smells like morning time. and i  wear a blanket around my shoulders. i just really like fall. plus, i think fall would be the best season to write a book in. i thought about becoming friends with some of my teachers, maybe with my art teacher; mrs. shepard or shep. is what i call her. but then i remembered i don't know how to make friends. mostly i just feel shy, and depressed. and timid. mostly  i think i may be insecure. i hate that thought. so i try and not think it. which is not going so well. i think, i  think too much. maybe its just time to stop thinking, and stand back, and watch. watch the time pass, the day end. the world make history. it's time to watch. but just watching scares me. because i don't know how to do that and i don't like to try new things. so. that's that. a kid friend (i like to say that. because it's true. we're kids, and we're friends.) a kid friend of mine, Bryce, committed suicide two weeks before school started. i guess he was scared to start school. maybe that's why. i wish i knew. i wish i knew everything. but i think it might be bad to wish so much. i will try to stop wishing. and thinking. but i just really like to think about Bryce. but then i get very sad. but i still think about him. he deserves to be thought about. he really does. but when i was thinking about Bryce on friday i got really sad. the saddest i've been for a very long time. sometimes i like to be sad. like right today. some kids were laughing in class. not me. i wasn't laughing. today i wanted to be sad. so on friday when i was thinking about Bryce, and when i got very sad; i went to "bed." at 5 pm. i just stayed there, cried till 11 pm. not like a hurt cry. but a panicky cry. one that has no end. that's why i cried for so long.  i wanted to make myself some tea, but i was too scared to go upstairs and get it, because then my mom might ask me to talk about "things." and i don't like to to talk about "things." also, today at school. i wanted to tell this boy to go to hell. i almost did. but i decided not to. i can't remember why i decided not to. but that was that. 

ps. i sleep with my lights on. and when i wake up it's around three in the morning and then, i get up. and turn them off. i don't know why i do this. i just do. 

i don't know why im telling you this.

pps. i think tomorrow i will wear my red hat to school. i hope that the popular girls will hate me because i wear hats to school. and because only boys do that. i would like that for some reason.

^mythoughtprocessinwhichilivein.

andilikeit.