seventeen

three more years till i actually have to grow up

brittle breakable girls

always feel like shit on holidays

though the sound resonates through both ears
i don't feel anything from it
perhaps it's the meds that make me feel like this
or her, or anyone
because the world doesn't revolve around me
fuck your new year
and fuck your sunshine and open casket
I want a temporary death, so I can test it out
and get a refund if I'm not satisfied
guaranteed
ha ha ha, but nobody's laughing
and it's just me alone and the static
and your voice crooning in my ear. fuck your sunshine
fuck your glory days
these aren't mine
I won't peak
merry fucking christmas

and never have I ever

felt so bad about this
i'm so sorry
but not really
because i'm all tears and crocodile wishes
all loves and lonely heartbroken words
and ways and clocks and ticking ticking time
i fail to rhyme to change.
"and i literally broke the english language"
sorry to hear that. i'm starting to look like you
i hope you know
i dont think i'm brilliant enough for anyone
"just because you don't like a person"
no, more because a person told me i was an not-genuine failure
why thank you
i know you meant it well

maybe I would have been something you'd be good at.

I sometimes wonder what it would have been like if I never met you. If I didn't walk the streets without thinking about your hair, your clothes, and your eyes, because I wouldn't know them. I wouldn't know your scent. I wouldn't know your fingers or your hands. I wouldn't hear your voice or see your face even if we're estranged. I wouldn't know about it because we wouldn't know each other.

And I finally realize now that I don't care.

I don't regret you. Not in the slightest. I just regret that you thought that way about me. And that it ended so badly. Two different people in different phases of moving on. So yes, I had forgotten about needing you by the time you "broke it off". I had forgotten what it was like to have the longing, the stupid aching feeling in the chest. You hadn't become insignificant to me so much as I forgot how to love you, how to want to talk to you. I'm not sorry about it. I just regret that you couldn't acknowledge the inevitable. I wish you the best of luck, really. And I'm glad it's weird for you, because it's weird for me too.

I'm not the bad guy here, you know? Don't make me out to be that. It takes two to fall apart.

i don't follow anything

because I don't know where it will lead me,
whatever it is.
you say you want things I could give you,
but I'm too shy to say
you're a wreck, just a soft, sweet wreck
and the conventions of this language can't
even begin to describe any of this
six months to this day and i would have gone for it
gone for you and the idea of you, I guess that's what I loved
and even after all of this, I cradle my head in my hands
and taste the same old regret, over and over again
just musky enough to let me know that it's weird for you
it's too normal for me. i can't say what I feel because I am blind
don't you even speak to me, because I am avoiding being an idiot and fool
and breaking off what could have been beautiful.
i'm sorry.

there is nothing here

and there is nothing less than nothing left

I'm writing a novel about a girl who has to save the world and is barely passing Precalc.

Her name is Molly Jane Fitzgerald and I love her to pieces.

As I have many times, I wonder if anyone reads this. Hmmm.

I can't wait to meet you either.

i'm still trapped between the end and the means

I wonder if anyone actually reads this thing, if anyone actually acknowledges my existence, hangs on every word.

I want to be you. I don't want this. i'm already gone in so many ways and it hurts to say, oh it hurts hurts hurts me to say this to you

"harsh but excruciatingly true" oh you would think that wouldn't you, tear me in two, oh my isn't this a funny little mess i've gotten myself into.

and it's only you who would expect so much of me. how kind. how generous. how considerate of you. I don't fucking care. This is a place for florid poetry and pretending I'm smarter than I actually am, but right now I'm just really fucking mad. I never realized that there was any color in the pture at all, I thought there was only dust and sepia. not even sure how to pronounce sepia. (see-pee-a? seh-pee-ah?) I don't know, and I can't be sure, and I can't say I want you because I don't know you . I don't know a lot of things. This is a surefire place for repetition and it's boring and I hate myself for things I don't even know about. What is my swing state? What is the color of my rain? Why does the sky listen, not listen, throw itself before my feet and laugh in my face?

why is there such laughably bad handwriting in this? It's not as though I haven't tried to fight it. I really have, honest/. I'm being good. I'm not even bothering to correct this and it's rife with grammatical errors and my fingers hurt and this is not even a grammatically correct sentence and i don't care what you think as long as it's about meeeeee... oh I love quoting horrid lyrics. I can't spell, but the thing is I really can.

I just want to be told pretty lies. I want you to treat me like I deserve to be treated. I want you to not tell me how a relationship should go, that I'm wrong when I know that I'm right and you're just being a bitch.

Love me, love me, say that you love me. Ha.

turpentine kisses and mistaken blows

I want you to be my heart, the lining of my coffin, casket, silver basket

and the ruins of my name be the father, the son, the holy spirit, and all that catholic bullshit they feed you under the frames.

take me down and make me whole again.

repeat me on and on

"lovely lovely lovely bones until I get my own"

but you wouldn't, would you?

cryptic city, no party for a sad sad soul.

it all came out of the blue and I tore after you
you can't recall, well neither can I
lying in this field of broken glass,
the moments passed and you said,
"you could be my boy if you only tried"

and how am I supposed to feel about that?
where am I to go when there's no holding back?
and what did I do to veer off the tracks
you said, "now that the world is something..."

girls will be boys all torn up inside
and boys will be girls with nothing to hide
and I'm in the middle, just 'cause I lied
and said, "I need to let it go"

love is

all relative

the poor and the wise all know the same tricks

and here I am
weaving charms through the hair of old wives,
gypsies, men of distortion/distinction

they wear converse and speak in tongues
beards and all, I love them and their urban smell
i still feel so unclean and tainted by their world

"as the statues cry
and the buildings crumble side by side
at least we'll know now who was left behind
shattered through the halls
with your arms spread wide to love it all
I'm not sure if I can break these walls

trip on icy stairs/stares
my whole world is burning, I don't care
because you're not here
breath on jaded glass
we all knew that this would come to pass
but will I disappear?"

life (spare) changes

I guess I really am losing you. is it bad that I don't feel bad?

i'm blue and floating, a different face in different water, time changes, fish slowly drying up on beaches and hurt life no other

(dreaful sentences, "you can't wirte you can't think anymore")

and every word I remember, because it's only you. hurt me and take me with you, but fuck all if you're taking my soul.

and all the hurt you call your own, you know, you know (nobody's ever you)

I still feel like killing myself all the time. And drinking myself half to death, chemical cocktails all in a stir.

don't wait up for me. let your mess and fairy wings fly you away. I can't find the words I want to express the image and the moment. I want your smile, your voice, your face, your eyes. I would make the perfect freak baby/child/woman.

want me I am all yours for the taking

still

I wonder if the moon ever gets lonely.

when the lights went black

we fell in and out of love so easily
repeated letters and phrases, over and over again
though I did, I really did mean it in the end

I recognize the song in your headphones, in your heart
you look lost and I feel that stretch
between seriousness and playing it off as some fun

and my mediocrity shines through like no other
like crystals set in gates, like china trapped in glass
and really, my skin is disgusting, I want to unzip myself
and walk some great distance for you

I stay away from the specifics, but I want someone to hold my hand and mean it

oh can't you stop me from thinking so much?

itrwywfm v 2.0

you don't have an original thought in you

and we are lonely planets, constellations, missing links and half broken pieces. I can't imagine you underwater, but it would be nice if I could.

x out the numbers. I want you to notice me though you wouldn't. it's sad and pathetic but perhaps I have surpassed you in the vague category.

definite. not defiant. not definate.

ridiculous, not rediculous.

why can't anyone spell?

about a girl

I know that I am a machine, but don't you still believe that I can feel?
That I'm real somehow? Really now?

Why don't you spin some dreams for me
lace and wine, ghosts in the arrangements
"and it never, it never made her happy"
she brooded over counterfeit dollars and loose change

hey babe, don't you fall down, I'll be there with a little hand
Champagne breaths; phrases becoming sentences
(I hate roses because they remind me of everyone that has ever left me)

I don't think I have ever loved anyone.
It's just too easy.

Sometimes I feel the words expand and contract in my head.
sometimes I wonder if there's anything worth being in this place.

can someone prove me wrong? can someone stop me from sealing the walls off in my own little world?

I read my old journals from junior high school and realized what an asshole I was. What the hell did I know? Everything was buried. Everything I know now was not apparent then. All I knew was that I was miserable and nothing was right about the world. I still think about killing myself on average three times a day. It's mostly out of habit now -- the only security I have now is my bullshit misery.

is this really what you want from me?

fell into the well long ago

i never meant to learn it, to recite poetry with hands tied behind my back.

HURT ME. it's all i deserve

"sometimes I want to know what it's like in your head"

in fickle bouts of weather, the artist clings to her pen and weeps tar tears.
and she laughs at the crybabies around her because she never really will.
the crocodiles and ticking clocks, and I don't ever want to grow older
I pulled your hair back when you threw up,
and it was true love spread against the porcelain
and I suppose I could want you sometime.
You're just too far behind to tell loose tales; it seems I'm farther up the tree.

The artist found her niche amongst the flower children of her mother's youth
Finding cinnamon boys to inhale and alabaster girls to smooth over,
She leaves no preface or explanation, just fills the tank with liquidated dreaming
and keeps driving past roses and crumpled street signs
I am not connected with her in any way, but I know that one day I will meet her.



It's been a while since I've really used this. I've missed you all, even if I'm the only person who reads or writes in this. Please tell me otherwise. I've missed this feeling.

rossie radetsky won the war

you're the only thing worth fighting for in this place, kid.

I'm not even sure if I love you. Maybe I'm telling myself to love you so the pain isn't so big when you don't love me. I feel your love slowly sinking in, and I'm not the best part about this place. I'm not saying things to be self-deprecating, I'm being honest: you can do better than me. In fact, I want you to do better than me because I love that woman there with her bleach blonde hair. tell me there's a way out because I will follow you.

Is there something you wanted to talk about? Hear about? Tell me about?

thorns and you have no idea

why am I so okay with everything? I really, really shouldn't be considering the circumstances.

I feel sick but it's funny how I can laugh at everything.

"take cold showers every day and throw my life away"

felt as though you were spiraling out of control?

As though nothing you say matters because in the end, you're wrong anyway?

I take a lot of patience. I deserve all I get. But I do think you should feel bad.

Despite the fact that I'm a monster, you did hurt me
who's martyring themselves now?

I feel old and young and fucked up. My right eyes hurts so much. I do like myself, I do, I do. This is who I am. I will not apologize for anyone.

Congratulations, you deserve this so much. Fuck your religion, I just want to see you happy. I prefer my characters to my friends, is that sad? I don't know. I don't care, I don't, I don't.

we're very wide awake

the moon and I

sometimes I wonder if I am changing for the worse. I am just trying to make history here.

"I want to be a revolutionary." All the power to you. You are much more intelligent than I am. Take off the end, add something new, that's me, both yes and no. "Well that's not you at all." Well, you don't really know me, do you? I am so multi-faceted that you have only seen a few of my fronts, a few of my traits. I am many different things to many different people, and I wonder sometimes if that will be the death of me. I love you no matter what, but it's over, so don't fantasize about someone idolizing.

I'm a lonely little planet, and you hold the key to the city, and they're just words, just words.

I feel like a fool when I'm talking to you.

But never again, never never again.

your maturity is astounding

really, spot on. great job. you fucking asshole.

how could you single me out and treat me like shit when I am to blame for nothing? If you're insecure take it out on something else, because you talk endlessly about people being immature and people putting their problems on everyone else and then you do the same fucking thing. you huge fucking hypocrite. I don't get it. I will not work in a situation where I can't be friends with who I'm working with. I will quit. Because you, no doubt, will turn the others against me to see fit to your stupid plans or whatever. I will not be part of your vision. I need my life and you dominate it. I guess I'm depressed? Going into a bad cycle. cold as hell but it may be warm out? I'm so sad. I'm so sick (of this). I can't compete. I need a real friend and I don't know who to turn to. Perhaps I should just give up the ghost.

I have no muse. I'm with you and I have no muse. I don't want to be with you, I suppose. I'm along for the ride, I suppose. Whatever. I feel like I'm leading you on because I feel like I'm leading everyone on. What is wrong with me? I don't know. I feel like I will break you. You pull away if I show emotion. I don't know. are you afraid of me? I don't know. Punctuated with three words bound to drive anyone else mad, but not you, not you. You're different. You're special. Do I like this? I don't know.

see page one for details. I'm not even going to give you that much credit. aaaaaaaaaaaaH!

ashdfljashdflahdfljsahdflsahdfljhdsfljsah fuck you!

you can have it take it or leave it

I feel no sort of obligation to anyone. I do things now because I want to and not because someone wants me to. Fuck you if you expect anything more from that. Because you won't be with me all the time; this is my life and these are the choices that I make.

Perhaps I'm just not good at being cryptic anymore. Perhaps I'm sick of being alone. my words are that of a child and soon I will look different than before.

follow me down.

woman like a man

hey, this is me getting out what I want to say so you can read it. Keep it in mind.

I'd rather be your friend for now from what we previously discussed. It's just easier that way for me. I have college looming overhead and my friends are enough.

Also, I don't feel like I like you as much as you like me. It's weird. but I don't feel any obligation toward you whatsoever. I don't want a relationship. Not, like, never ever, but not for the foreseeable future. Perhaps not one with you either. You're too cool of a person. My first impression was right or wrong? Don't know. You're awkward and I'm being a bit of a child but I can't deal with that.

Who am I kidding, I'm always a child.

But you make me nervous as fucking hell and you're ugly but you're not. I don't know. I just want to be your friend. I kind of regret the initial reaction and I regret making out with you and I regret being an impulsive idiot. I feel as though there will always be this tension and i know it's mutual. I wish you didn't like me as much as you do, then this would be easier.

fuck all I fucking hate this and you but not really.

asdfhlhfdlasdfhlashflafjdhlashfdj.

misery is so fond of me, he curls against me at night and whispers sweet nothings

I have memory lapses, forgetting who I tell things to. And I'm unforgivable at this point.
"Stop making excuses for yourself. You're too wrapped up in yourself."

Well I'm sorry for not being the perfect mannequin you want me to be. It's all about you if you like, every single last bit of it, even if I'm lying through my teeth. Not it. Can't play the game, don't want to, miles and miles and miles. Things don't come in threes anymore, they dawdle on bye.

"I love you dear, but you're really quite the drag. What you need is foresight. She seems to be good at that. Pyre, love, you fucking suck."

Why thank you, I do try. I do weddings, funerals, bar mitzvahs...

You wish. Try me. You'll no doubt se something close to love. The sun rises, the sky is blue with regret. I can't speak in anything but lyrics, tuneless because I lack a voice. I lack a heart. You say I'm compassionate, lie detector determined that was a lie said to please me so you could get what you wanted. Well, is this what you wanted? Me begging on my knees? Me distressed and worn down? I'll martyr myself all I like, it's my right. kay thanks.

Awww, petty baby. No one gives a shit about your problems. Well, wouldn't you know? I've got no real problems but I like to make believe. Instead, I just have anger. Anger sorrow pain the like you wish you wish you wish.

Drives me up the wall but I wish that you could reply. I wish I didn't have this shameless crush on you. Shameless. Shame shame shame.

Directionless as we are. Fuck God, I've got the friends in my head to fall back on. You wish you were so acid bright and wise as I am, oh you wish. Asterisk smilie face.

Love the fall but hate where I land. Mind the gap (whatever that means).

this is what you get, and it's all you deserve too

It's remarkable how I hate using the word remarkable. I feel too old when I do so.

It's notable that today is the anniversary of something. something that never was.

ha.

we had a history of violence together

My heart aches for people I barely know. Why do I want you so?

"not going left, not going right"

I'm in love with that song.

And not with you, kid. You're out of luck today.

I missed you, in short terms

in the long shot, I was nothing really.

Fond of your affection. I won't even understand what this means when it's all done. And I want my death because it will be the only thing that's all mine. All mine. I don't want it now, but I want the experience. I guess if I knew, I'd be okay, but you can't know. It's not allowed. "Oh love, I missed you so much. I did. And would you hug me, I'm dying for your arms around me." Though not so dramatic. But the intention would be the same. If my world were perfect. I can't help speaking in fragments. I need to do work, work, work, but my mind is in a perfect dream.

I had the credentials and everything, I was just too fucked up for words.

Oh, my despair! How fucking laughable. I'm a right mess and an awful one at that. Insulting myself is just the custom around here. You should know that, silly goose.

Condescending all the same, you loved me for it, all of you, once and never again.

you are

things not worth rhyming

[perhaps you are not]

the death of me

after all

especially in fragments, truth be told, wouldn't you know

sing like it

I was always a beggar and a loner,
never stepping twice, never making mistakes,
and all too accustomed to the meltdown

and I loved you still

and after it all i was vague as ever, beautiful as ever, personal as ever

and it was all a lie

I feel like a fraud, now as ever. I walked so far that I can't see your face anymore and it's all better off that way. It once had a tune that I remember all too well, that I'd like to forget. Am I getting better? I don't know. I swear I'm not a liar (though yes, yes I am, and a hypocrite too) I just don't know.

love is an empty word for me, meaningless, and my delusions of grandeur are all withstanding. "jump out the window, i can survive. stab myself, i can survive. shoot myself not because I want to die, just so I can shut my brain off and not think anymore." time is going by slower than i thought it was. I could be doing so much more and there's so much I owe to school, home, my friends, my life. I'm fucking up and i'm getting more and more depressed. It's just a part of growing up. Go fuck yourself then.

in need of help, now as ever, and i can't even hold on anymore

i still haven't come to terms with

my selfishness and stupidity.
how I hurt others along the way and how obnoxious I am.
how teenaged and mediocre my writing is.
how I'm really not that smart, I'm just a "stupid fuck with brilliant luck" who can only quote songs to describe myself.
how when I put myself down, it hurts everyone more.
how I'm dragging everyone down with me because I can't bear the thought of losing anyone, not when it's happened so many times before.

to my parents: I'm sorry for not being everything you wanted to be. I feel as though I can't win with you. You say you're going to support me in whatever you do, but I dance around topics involving who I want to marry or be with because I see mom's shudder and I hear dad's want to say "it's your CHOICE" in what he says. I can't measure up to your expectations. I can't take the pressure. You do so much and I'm so scared of everyone and the world and having to take care of them when you die. I wish it was an "if". I truly, truly do. I don't want to go away. I don't want so many things that are in my life because I brought them upon myself. I have so much, you say that so much, and I now know I do, but still I forget it and I feel like even you two are going to get sick of me too. Like I'm getting sick of myself, like the people I love who leave me in some way.

I don't know what it is anymore, not at all.

to my friends: I regret so much I have said and done because you have been there for me regardless. I ignore the fact that you have your own problems and I just rampage. I get drunk and make phone calls. I lie. I cheat, I break promises, I fail at all things a decent person could. I'm a mess, the friend you can't count on. I say things and do other things, and I'm spiteful and wrong and I make so many mistakes and I, I, I can't lose you all to this. But I'll never show you so there is no point. I can get out of bed, I ignore it and I instead spread my misery to everyone else. it is my curse, family curse, person curse, it's all mine like a blanket or a toy except it's just sad. I'm amazed that you haven't disappeared, I'm amazed you haven't said what's wrong because I know it's coming.

People I love in my life leave me, so it's so hard to let go.

Follow me. Don't follow me, too dangerous, stand clear, stay back! I'm a whirlwind of bad excuses and false hopes, no presents, no showers, no love affairs for lack of commitment. I want someone to hold me -- you to hold me, him, her, they, it, whatever -- and tell me it's okay to be fucked up. I can't convince myself because I can barely hold on as it is. I'm going insane. I think sunsets are lame and nights and days are both overrated. I hurt my life and my imaginary love and my imaginary hiding places. I wonder if anyone reads this, like I read other blogs, anxiously waiting for more inspiration and more heartache. "nobody likes me, maybe if I cry" She describes it all too well.

Too sick to eat, too sick of myself to be awake, too afraid to sleep. I don't notice cars. I don't notice street signs. Letters swerve and disappear. I am the cure, I am the curse. I am the queen of being vague and a bitch to boot. goodbye in so many languages just to throw you off. You'll never catch me, I'm far too unnoticeable.

so sorry that i refuse to apologize

but of course!

Here I am crying over something that's a stupid teenage thing but here's what's happening.

I am getting out of the house and not doing what I should because I can't concentrate on it because I'm going fucking batshit insane. I'm hearing things on a loop on repeat when they're not there, PEOPLE ARE FUCKING TALKING IN MY HEAD THAT AREN'T ME. I'm seeing things that aren't there and I'm imagining myself dead and my friends dead and things in ruins and having horrible dreams and how the fuck am I supposed to let you know that without you committing me or coddling me or losing trust in me or anything I don't want or need? I need to be alone. I need to die, I need to do something to escape this bullshit that is called my life.

I'm going crazy and you won't believe me. No one will. I just want to die right now. I can't pull any sort of card and I don't know. I feel like my blog is my best friend at this point because it can't have a fucking opinion and it can't yell at me, or make me feel small and useless, or make me want to destroy myself from the inside out. Fuck it fuck it all I hate this and I hate you and I hate hate hate hate hate hate all of it.

fucking faggot

fuck you and your career and all your useless things

ps this is a letter to myself.

i know it's wrong, but i want some sort of horrid disorder

I have something to blame for all my fucking problems, my zoning out, my most of me.

-why I wake up with all the bruises and cuts that I can't explain or even begin to understand where they come from.
-why I hear voices in my head and aloud and I feel hands on me when I'm completely alone.
-why I feel something else take over me when I'm angry, another person almost, and I can't explain why I just said that or I just fucked up your perfectly arranged things.
-my hatred for everything and my other worlds.
-the fact that I feel so much pain from some stupid little thing for hours after the fact.

it's all closing in. I hate it i hate it.

rr again

and hours and hours and hours

you're still not done, he said, and left with a wink.

There are so many people that I wish I knew, that I wish I could talk to and tell my secrets. They're so big, they're so successful, and I want so badly to be in that circle so I'm validated somehow. Always a dreamer, a quitter, a lover (but no, no) and a fighter for a stupid cause.

i am the kill, you see

and I delayed everything I did always, even now

It's so much easier to do this than to take the time. I'm bound to my technology, the breath of machines, the breath of disease as well, always just the right words or I freak out

"leave her alone, it's not that bad" until it gets worse, you fucking bitch

Maybe I'm just wrong, maybe no one is (use me holly, come on and use me, though I didn't even write this line) You know me best, after all, now don't you with all the condescensions necessary and I don't even know if that's the right term! fuck it! fuck you, stupid whore! (My maturity is striking) i hate you i hate you i hate you i hate you.

nothing is funny because everything is, and don't decipher this because you're wrong already.

and i shouldn't feel

as though it were breaking really
because it's not, because my corrections are merely reflections of my transgressions. the dull sound at the end, the anti-din, the zone where I sleep too late and eat too much.

it's funny how fast I'm falling and how I still can't let you go, let it go, let go. I want to affect someone so badly, just to make a difference in someone's life, have them think about me nonstop for a change. maybe i want him to fall off the face of the planet and for her to love me again. maybe i want a lot of things I can't have.

I want someone who can be there for me, someone who will slap me and tell me I'm wrong and tell me to stop martyring myself, and then to kiss me better. Or hug me better. Or simply be patient with me, because I'm all sorts of fucked up and I get nervous just thinking about someone loving me that way, like that, like all of that. A bundle of conflicting emotions, in a satchel or a handkerchief.

and I feel like one of those rock stars who uses their blog to write cryptic messages. I idly wonder if anyone reads this from time to time. and then I realize it doesn't matter who reads this, they can't say a thing. they can just be affected.

that alone is reassuring, at least.

this is a place for my deeper thoughts, but...

RULE 34 HAS JUST RUINED MY CHILDHOOD.

ruins

i had felt you

better by my design, by design, screen, desire

forceps, concepts, made up words and misprints

"boy has fears of a child" I don't want to grow up I swear it

and I can't deny you everything anymore.

much love, much love, squalor and all the rest.

progress

January bit me baby-gentle and still left a mark,
an imprinted arch, easy like the sun.
it was the best blur:
(field trees sidewalk school home home school you you you)
and I couldn't have wished for anything better
if you sold my dreams and pocketed the rest, it was fine.
teenaged and irrelevant, the girls laughed
as they cradled the world in their painted hands and jewels.
It was there that I wanted to evoke some form of tragedy,
to be still, to stand with limbs jutting into awkward angles,
wearing the white dress you loved on me,
dusted with blues that would make you shudder like no other.
charmed, I was so sure of that, impassioned by how you moved
my conversations were rehearsal on the streets at night
wild and alone, with moonbeams for eyes
and bones beneath taut skin
I spoke such pretty words, made all the right moves
and still could not get you to look at me.
The cat scratches on my hands chased one another, not making it.
As I prayed you weren't in love,
it was as though I had passed through time by mistake, still a child
broken and crazy I didn't belong

I was too medicated to feel your grip --
or maybe I felt it and I just didn't care, like with everything else,
words slipping like water through my stubby cracked fingers
postmortem depression, I supposed, with the melodrama to match
the flowers floated on air and flew away, with hints of tar and lace
and I smiled for lack of any appropriate reaction
otherwise I would have cried, I really would have, honest
leaning against the cardboard artwork I wanted to destroy
grimy and decayed because I didn't want to be noticed anymore,
and it was a time when I just didn't want to wake up anymore
and I wouldn't miss the sunlight, and I wouldn't miss the rain
those things held so dear in single numbers, small teeth and all
I listened to synthetic music and felt the same,
and I finally felt your grip, and the prepositions and connecting words
it all made sense somehow, through the worn away haze, unappreciated
"there is no finality as there is no certainty. there is no finality as there is no certainty."
and I was still killed by the oncoming car
and I was still killed by the onslaught of pills
and I was still killed by assumption
and I was still killed
I hoped you slept well that night, up till all hours, still wide eyed and plagued
I ignored the sunrise, like I always do, flattering by reflecting its acceptance
as I waited for you to let me go and watched you leave without a look back

"your anxiety is endearing, but really love, get a grip"

I am jittery like always, thoughts racing, head pounding.

miss that, miss that, miss that, miss you, miss us.

fuck, and that's all I feel.

we are useless words, the word "useless" popping up everywhere, and unashamed and proud and all that. and i'm freaking out and i want to cry, I want to scream I want to do all those things I see in books in magazines in love and lovers of it. my ideas of humanity are off and that's fine by me just as long as you keep it down

"maybe yr just like me
maybe noone is" (wentz from wherever)

and it rings true after all because i can only quote things I didn't do but make sense, it makes sense, it all makes sense in the end.

and it never goes, never ever until i die, which at this rate is not far off

save me

this is a pattern, I see

another depressing entry, but what else is new

I've been lied to obviously, and I hate that, resent it so much

FUCK

i somehow think that

you're bluffing or pretending

please don't, it'll break my little stone heart

videotape

there is a distinct sadness that only you can make me feel
you, with your cutting fingers and horror eyes
I wear sleeves because I hate my arms, and you are so perfect
there are so many things you don't know
and you can't know
because I never will, I never will
"you're getting so thin, you're slipping away"
people don't ask me how I am really
chupacabra, and its awful claws,
and it's awful because i can't spell that, i don't think
his voice twists me in ways your words are more successful with
and it is so long after dark, you have to come inside
and there is so much silence here, it's pressing me down like no other
there is no need to interpret this, you'll be wrong
there are no metaphors, no similes
but there are people who do exist, even if in my mind solely,
they are based on true events and facts.
i look up ghost stories because I want to scare myself into submission
and still it doesn't work, and I am left merely with dreams
and the faint ocean spray, and your voice calling me on and on
in the distance, on the horizon, into the black and grey,
the blue of all things real and poignant, and that is where I belong.

self

I'm depressed

and that's all I can really say

because I am

and it's mindless, and I don't know where to start

you are my nightmare

i wait a little while longer, green haired and fearful, your stupid face is etched in my skull. and I hate you. and I hate you. starting sentences with prepositions never got anyone anywhere. Behind locked doors I can do whatever I choose. I can't cry I really can't and i'm sick of punctuation, it's really something. I can't sit still but I don't know where the fuck I want to go or what I'm going to do with the rest of my life. I hate it. I hate this all so much. it's my hatred and honor and despair but goddamn it eats me alive. These are words. these are words all words and the worse it grows the bigger hole I dig for myself the grave to throw myself in, the maggots crawling into my orifices. don't you love it. isn't it precious. are. you. in. love. with. me? I don't know. I don't even want you to be because he will always be in the back of your mind, always always and I cry at night in my dreams because they will not surface and I am ultimately numb but you knew that and this is essentially the greatest run on sentence in creation. I am not you and you are not me but we should be one but we can't and he is the girl, the love, the one that you hold dear and obsess obsess there are so many esses and ems and all that is awful and i hallucinate because yes i still love you I will never quite be over you it was not long ago it was something of a dream and I hate it this is one big block and it will never stop it goes and goes and goes and I can' say hello because i'm terrified. there is only you.