fuck you and your career and all your useless things
ps this is a letter to myself.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Sunday, February 24, 2008
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.
-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.
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.
Monday, February 18, 2008
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.
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.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
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.
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.
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
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
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
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