11th resolution

[Something needs to get written. I'd like to start my poetry again =) ]

For the chick who's supposed to be
that one with the poetry,
obsessing over words like they're something uncommon--
like they're not kicking around every
damn street corner--
she sure is bad at living with it.

Come on now,
they don't mean anything,
all those words--
unless they mean something.
And they don't mean something unless you make them.

I can never decide whether it's better
to attack with the message like a sledgehammer to the forehead
or whether to cover up an ice pick
in a pretty wrapping paper metaphor
and drive it through the base of the skull.

Anyways, maybe she should try
feeling what she's feeling
and let the words her head spits out
stay there, not push them back;
that way they can tell her something.