Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Forget It

Grab my hand and kiss my fingers lightly. Lure me in with your boyish grin, but promise me nothing. It's alright, darling, I promised myself the stars. Your tone is interpreted so easily. Every word unsaid falls upon deaf ears, and I try so hard not to care. But all I see is that ubiquitous girl. I just want my moment, my season. Why am I so impatient?

Sunday, May 24, 2009

I am broken.

I think I'm crazy. I feel as if I could wake at any moment and my whole life would be just a fading dream. And that would make perfect sense. I feel like I could just start walking and not stop. Just keep going. Sleep is a sudden enemy. I look up, and the room I'm in feels strange, too much texture. My ears are ringing. There's too much noise in this place. Something is wrong. I have pain in my lower black and pelvic area. I urinate too frequently. My skin is dry. I have no appetite. All of these I ignore. My nose is running. My gums ache. My jaw is stiff. My ears hurt when I swallow. My throat is swollen. I can't breathe. I can't even read the words I'm writing. I don't know what my fingers are doing. They call it typing. My romantic relationships roll over me like the tide. They change their minds. I notice too much. Nothing is connected. What is this. Why is this happening. I've only been awake for 14 hours, 16 at the most. It can't be sleep deprivation. It happens when I'm alone, no one to distract me. The door is green. Why is it green? What is green? Why do I know what green is? Someone's at the door. Peeking in. Staring straight at me. Something. It reaches for the handle, but doesn't need to, it walks right in. What color when mixed with green makes magenta? Faces on doors. Cartoons. Not tomorrow. I can't do anything tomorrow. School seems so insignificant. Work seems like a joke. Why do I need a job? Doesn't money grow on trees? You don't need a job when you're a hooker, a drug dealer. If I scream will it hear me? Crosses. Pathways. Any way to get to you. Colors are ugly. All of them. They burn. I want to throw up. I want to be blind and deaf and mute. Blackness. Darkness. Everything seems stupid. I can't touch anything. I want drugs and sex and some intense electronic music. I want things to feel real. When I think nothing's real. Nothing exists. "Everything is 1's and 0's..." what if it's more than everything? This universe doesn't exist, but in my mind. I'm an amoebae. You're my gorilla. Want a banananananana? What is this? I taste fish. I want cream cheese. I want a stripper, a hooker. Please, just go away. I want. I want. I want. What happens when this body dies?

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

What if I am this ubquitous girl?

Awake in this world, but sleeping peacefully in yours. The mist creates a path where there is none. Lightly dusting my skin, smooth and cool. I lose my footing, but the ground isn't rushing towards my out-stretched hands. I'm on my back, rubbing alcohol in my throat. Burning radiates to my eyes. A message revealed by the heat in a language I do not understand. Forbidden words, and I am paralyzed. I never got to say goodbye.

Friday, May 8, 2009

An ocean.

We're on a boat. White sleeping bag on the floor. Refuse the offer for my bed, but insist I stay with you. And of course I do, as always, no matter how uncomfortable it is. We're in the ocean. It's gorgeous, so blue. So blue. Scuba diving, apparently you're experienced. And the same girl is there again. You and I are so close, but I'm sinking.

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

Pain

It hurts.
Everything you do hurts.
Everything you say.
An ache that begins in the back of my throat.
And radiates.
It hurts.

Sunday, May 3, 2009

Blue on Blue - The Kin

"Sweet simple pleasure loaded with thrill.
The flash of your smile with your eyes on me."

Tu me manque. Jamais de nouveau.

Détruit dans la traduction.
Mon anglais m'échoue.
Ce langage fait pas mieux.

And so I revert.
Always back to the comfortable.
Always backwards.
And you're so comfortable.
And you're so awful.



Vous êtes mon tout.
Mais je suis votre putain.
Ne me pardonnez jamais.

I deserve nothing.

Friday, May 1, 2009

Curve Ball

"I live in the shadow of your fame.
Curious and eager to know.
Furious with nothing to show."

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.
Cast out my iniquity.
Cast out my humanity.
Erase all that is bad in me.
Cleanse all he has had of me.
Amen.

- Prayer of a Harlot