All hail the Easter Bunny. There are promises of eggs. Little small gifts enclosed in plastic oval shapes, smelling of new chemicals freshly pressed from large manufacturing companies. My gift to the weather. A small token of spring. Perhaps the swiftness and cool eyed crispness deserves better awakenings than Folgers in your cup and effervescence scalding hot in aging fingers. It's all daisies, ribbons, and freshly starched outfits pressed for the deadline on velvety pews, gotta make it on time in the rush of traffic where runways are composed of yellow dashed lines and patent leather shoes pressed to the metal of gas ignitions. Who needs a Bible? We all have our outfits and hopefully unstained chocolate pressed against our lips honoring the risen from a sealed tomb after three days after the cry of vinegar quenched lips and warm blood dusty from a crown of thorns. Let me celebrate once. Once in my life, go to an edifice filled with familiar tunes and paper ...

My plants are dying. Some wither by the wayside. Others, destined in their own chlorophyll psychedelic mindfuck reach out to the Heavens and are Hell bent on finding the sustenance of the sun. I wonder if its the soil. Mixed parts with fertilizer and the such but we all know the grass is greener on the other side. Probably sunnier there too. Warm. The kind of weather where women flaunt their parasols and gloved white hands, pearls dancing off the sunglasses of the husbands that mow just near the picket fence. Maybe its too much water. leaves are perkier with just enough bounce, sturdy to the prickly fuzzy knees of bees. At least the lady bugs enjoy them. They seem to surround themselves near waxy goodness polka dots and dance trots to and fro the emptiness of withered hope. Couldn't be the roots. Oh, God...not the roots. Mind as well rip up the entire earth that surrounds them, throw them in the air and let the silken strands fall where they may. invisi...

Do You Like Me? Circle YES         or          NO and meet me by the slide. The one next to the monkey bars, but not the one next to the swings. You know, the big one. I have something to give you. I know you don't like surprises, so I'll just tell you. Its a dandelion. My Pops said they're just a weed, but I think this flower would look pretty in your hair. I'll wait for you. Wait here for 10 minutes if I have to. I know its a long time, but good things come to those that wait? Well, my MomMom said that a watched pot never boils, so I think she's talking about me watching a clock but I don't know why a clock would be hot. You know. Not spicy. But from the heat. It is warm out here today. Listen, are you still reading this? Why don't you just come and give me the answer already. I'm going to miss the bus and its a long walk home When the answer is No. -b.r.rivera-taylor 12 of 30 #30in30

The Dalai Lama thinks that I should shut the fuck up. Well, if he could use efficient curse words and trill off that phonetic juiciness required from years of dreams slipping through fingers and many nights a woman that was within me was scorned. Peace. The kind of silence that is a requirement ever so a lone and a part of the uniquely unencroachable undivided attention that can only manifest in still waters. For we know, that they run deep. An over thought cliche that gets to the nitty gritty of specific environments and how a ripple in the water cast by a stone creates a wave which is oddly specific and symbolical of how a tsunami in my throat wants to utter vowels, consonants and verbs of nothing but curse words. Stillness. forget the nuances that accompany daily living held by the grind of worker's sweat and sticky peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, snot rubbed off of a toddlers nose and a fresh Koo-...

I am now fighting the battle of the bulge. Notice the discontent within my writing. The hatred. The disposition. Hating the word "diet" I have divulged myself to completely rid that word from my vocabulary, and introduce a new term: Lifestyle Change. That's right, folks. I am changing my life from my physical and emotional state. Fuck this. I can't carry around extra pounds and become more depressed only to eat more and then be more depressed about extra pounds gained from depression. Did you keep up with that? That's right; it's a vicious cycle. However, I do notice that I have little problems with the types of foods that I choose to eat. I have a problem with the motivation of exercise. Getting a new Gold's Gym Treadmill has helped a lot. I sweat my pores out into puddles oozing from my skin and glistened with happiness. Finally, I can walk in rain, sleet or snow. No matter what the excuse, I have no excuse. I can exercise entirely within my home when w...

We often fall in love and get caught up in other's dreams. Their dreams become our reality. Our reality hence becomes a dream, faded away and left for dead, giving no breath in the wind. It amazes me how much one can give up for a relationship. How failures become daily strengths to overcome through ignored conversation, dwindled desire and nonchalance. What about the desire that was once felt? What about the quiet nights and long days of uninterrupted stories that were told because of curiosity. They are replaced. Replaced with short tones, irritated inflections of voice and looks of repulsion. We have fallen in love and got caught up in other dreams. We stopped living, and become a prisoner within our own home. We have stopped believing in ourselves, stopped believing in our own goals. The clean up process is much more hard. So hard that being focused becomes sleepless nights riddled with anxiety and longer days of being a walking zombie. But the goals are obtainable. The to do l...