100th Post? No way! YES WAY!

BLOGGITY!
IT'S YO BIRTHDAAAY!  - naked males come belly-dancing -
I can't believe it's the 100th post. You're growing old, bloggity, you're growing old.
I remember the first words I laid on this page - the first memories and feelings. The first sentimental crap I wrote.
Still, you represent some things to me. You represent my developing as a person and as a writer.
All the words that are lost to me during the day, come to me at night through you.
Thank you, blog. Happy anniversary.
Hugs, your chiquata
Mi amor,
Kelly
(spanish mock exams. do not ask)
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And now, for some poetry.


The morning has yet to come,
but you can feel the cold air dragging a long veil
Covering our bones and souls
Freezing us just one moment, one push away before death, only to stop
Only to stop and let us breath

I'm used to my hands shaking,
and so is my friend.
We live in no where,
and no where lives with us.

My friend has long since lost the feeling of life,
Has long since given up on hope or on breathing
Food is rare, and the minicule particle of food that we do recieve
Is like God telling us He exists again

My friend, my best friend, doesn't believe in God
She says with all the miracles he created,
Why couldn't we be part of His blessed touch?

My best friend doesn't believe in God,
and I don't believe in humanity.

The cultured faces and the facades of power
all craved and sulcuputed to hide the monstrousites we've become
The selfish souls that determine everything as theirs
The ones who couldn't lend a hand,
because lending a hand would mean being human again.

The ones who wouldn't help me when my best friend died.

I knew when she died.
She died when she was alive,
Because she never really was alive.
Living wasn't an option.

Living meant caring,
And you can't care to survive.

Enduring the streets is hard,
Doing it alone is harder.
End poverty, because one day
I want to care.