unsure why
Date: Jan 13th, 2011 1:42:16 am - Subscribe
Mood: trapped

for a second i felt like i was someone who i've wished to be at a time where i didn't want to be myself if i had the choice to be them instead. that's so sad not to want to be you. you can examine the predicament you're in and see all the pathways to resolve so clearly, but then the surrounding obstacles and precursors to the conflicts are repulsive. it's so sad. someone died and i am feeling it! i don't know who it is or why i suck at adaptation. i've been weakened! i want to cry and break glass but i want someone to stop me before i muster up the courage to rage out and give me a better outlet, solution, release, a reason not to, a reason to do something else.

my tongue hurts, the skin on my thumb is torn and infected, my vagina is leaking and stinking and itching, my hair is burnt, my mouth is an ogre, my chest cavity is always frozen, my shoulders are tense, i can't hear anything, i'm hoarse, and there are no doctors in the world that will ever care about me let alone anything better than a doctor.

i'm sad and obsessive

everyone thinks i'm happy for the wrong reasons and sad for the opposite or wrong reasons as well. how do i explain it to them when their assumption is so far gone? and they're not very presumptuous ignorant people who essentially wouldn't understand anyway. it's mostly my fault. i didn't make anyone understand. i was too confused myself, and indecisive as to whether or not i should share anything with them because i feared a misunderstanding. now there's more misunderstanding and i really need someone to talk to but no one is on the same page. and i'm goddamn fine but i know i'm not. when one fucking person shows me love and desire and affection i don't need anyone or anything else and i'm just happy. i put all my eggs in one basket because i don't want more than that and it's never that good when you have love from many different sources. doesn't anyone get that i can't feel a fucking thing unless you do it harder? do i fucking harder! fuck me harder! love me harder! love me harder! why can't anyone do that or realize that?

i don't understand what the fuck anyone is saying right now

one day i have to take my love away from everyone and then i give a little when i feel they deserve it and then they have it all and then i have to take it away again until they deserve it again and so on

don't do that to me!

people didn't leave me alone at this table in the back of the cafe by the ladies room because my vagina smells. they left because the cafe is closing.
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cure caress
Date: Dec 9th, 2010 8:03:21 am - Subscribe
Mood: romantic

is it my fault that no one uses the right, beautiful words? in my head is pain. i forget them often, i want not to see these words but to feel them, my stupid vision, clouding my thought and memory and forget when i hear because that will only drive me insane, faucets never fucking turn off do they?! only if you shut them reeeeeeeel tight!i want not to worry about less sunshine, or less movement, or god forbid have to move from my seat or my big chair whether comfortable or not, even the floor is now a chair too much to handle. that was me a while back, seconds ago? i am ticking so hard. my tragically beautiful friend asked me to beat him up yesterday. he left, into the cold, and now that i am in the cold too we are the same and i want to be beaten too, by human hands, not the cold, turn me blue, with your hands, with your dick, not the cold, don't bite me with weather, use your teeth! that is what i miss. so long ago, did i have? not so long ago, too quick everything. like blood and pregnancy. so quick then over. nothing to show. memories show on your head and in your smile, your face wrinkling. but they do not stand and they do not matter and they are not THERE! memories are not real i don't think. you cannot prove they are. i must limit myself but never my road. don't you ever heard of a boundary. you must never have, i hear myself say in quandary starlight eardrum echo phase out spiral, deep wide spiral of echo to hear again hellish howl. this growing wretched! i know how to leave me this way though, because i do unto others. leave. the weak. leave. me. you make me know damn well who i am, because of your power. congratulations, it will burn you. but you are so strong. i will continue to follow. round and round we go to bite our asses. i'm afraid if i fall down a well i will get bored, perhaps never tired.

usually when i am so bold as this i scream loudly, but i will conceal this time because i like it. minute yet significant comfort, detailed, perhaps it is? like spotted wings for camouflage? evolving animal, here i come. this pretty butterfly in pretty cage i kept here asleep too long and she chirped like a bird and i just want to keep her secret. secret. we don't like those around here. tell us all, not like loud, not like today, maybe soft, maybe somehow, with decency and composure for sure.

i know what you are thinking. what really happened? i put it slow and easy like i regular want to. i lived in a house with some folk not kins all roozy they were, we were bumpy, hurt sad me all my own but they themselves, we separate, they learn me and i learn very little that i can remember and or comprehend or compact into proverbial compound. now a boy is kicked out the house, and i left as his pal needs to be kicked too. all too familiar rejection of my sort on my part of my kind. the boy who touched me is now sleeping with a cutesy girl whose dreadlock my lost one wears in his hair, and this feely lover critisized her: but now shares love, and i hear them while i am blanketless on first the sofa, then the beanbag chair, then the coffee shop comfort where i be now to hide because i am scared, a shitless pussy. so candid they all were about their rowdy rooziness, like i was left for good, like i was left field all the time, like i was never there or never should have been there, like i was the stinky trash, but i am not, they are stinky actually, and i want to shake my finger everrrrrryyyyywhere and die and leave and bone. i am so sick in my head, they knock me out, but i am not sick on your love you fucking dope! do not be scared of my life it is the wisest you will ever know.

for that i curse these ones...

but wished well nonetheless since i see and prove the luck and hard rewarding for others, like they always do, like they always do get it all they want. and i don't have to worry nor curse nor none of that because they will have it and they will get it, clean, maybe a recognizable mess, nothing to complicated for the youth of america, we just want to RECYCLE the way people were because we don't know what we all really are, we're really shallow and self involved for truth's sake. when i remember this i can truly kiss the walls of my bubble and keep remembering. keep remembering that i have been hurt like this before and it's not some pathetic bug attempt brand new to me to say fuck you all. it's always there. dopey! it has to happen to remember again you know. i know. it always does. it's fun while the confusion lasts, like being in a labyrinth with myself, my love, my CRAZY love, yes, whom when she loves me alone she has so much room to give and be lonely but proud and no room for that nonsensical approval seeking behavior, word, action, atttempt, oh god just please me in the hospital already. i may end up there just because i love the leisure and the leisure surely loves me. and i want the medication. know why? to forget completely. that is the pain i know from having more, more in my membrane than you, the clouds, the walls, the iron, the cushion, the foam, the steel, the lead, just stuffed up there like the weakest most redundant ruinated foundation known to the wonders of the world that were never discovered but should be by my original plan that made its way back into my stupid life. hello? i can appreciate myself? can I? it's not fair, dude. dumb dumb dumb dumb.

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i don't know anything
Date: Dec 2nd, 2010 5:26:02 pm - Subscribe
Mood: violated

i dont have a se;lf self cant tap into the bself self im not pretty. calm, change, be the queen of your own world but still admit that you're wrong sometimes and you need a hand and a mentor and a friend, and nothing more than a master like you'vealways had. they're going to bring you down and when you're down there, are you going to pretend tat you're up? things seem like they are taking a different turn and this concerns me. i just want to be in your room in love with you all the time, but you're busy and i should be but i'm a dead broken bird and you are almost seeing that too clearly, your friends know that my heart is sunken because they can see behind the plastic, but you i hide from because i want to unravel and sink into deep deep earthtones water in my eyes, i've been grieving for the old me, i've been resurrecting and such changes like less passion and less knowledge of impressive subjects and how to make everything just perfect all the time even though i bullshit claim that the world is beautiful and perfect as it is, then when i can't do anything about anything not even myself, it's not so pretty anymore, and i close the curtains to hide the ugly but i think everyone wants to see it anyway even though it burns their eyes but they burn their eyes all the time and they have before too. why can't i just wear my heart on my sleeve? because if anyone sees, the wrong person, they will trap me, they will trap me there where i didn't work hard enough to escape and then it will be my fault and i'll be hung before the town, burned like a witch, darkness that is so meek and small but can spoil a bunch of apples? how do i possess such power and then when it comes to using the power for good it all turns around? this isn't impressive, but why do i always have to be a shiny shoe? nobody here has shiny shoes. fuck them, but they love me and i love them, but what the fuck does that mean? does it happen quickly? does it take years of disturbances and discomforts and escapes and giving up and giving in again and again? and pleading, is that what it will come down to? i'm not fearing the questions as much anymore, the little subtle ugly differences and details and style warps and changes and time gender mind fucks, can't we be decent, you said the house was broken and ugly but i thought it was okay. what more? no extremes. just in betweens and middles and maybes, and this and that that isn't gold but isn't filth, just be simple is all you ask. i am. but i thought you wanted more that's all. and since you thought i was beautiful i knew, like, shut up, i knew it wasn't enough and that's why it made me so sad til this moment like hours days later that don't matter as much as i think they do but little moments, i miss you! please me again! i miss you desperately. someone misses me, i miss someone, you miss a lot of them and a lot of people who i don't know, where do i fall into place, where do i belong and how do i get what i want without wanting it so goddamn badly but if i don't want things that badly then how do i go about succeeding in anything without wanting to succeed so badly that i will do anything and what is nobility, what is righteousness, i am against where i belong maybe but then if i don't want to be there then that's not where i belong. i won't be fucking institutionalized by the end of it all! i will be at peace and in love, with my small circle of pleasures and happiness and accepted disorders and competence to change my world and yours and everybody elses who deserves to have not the good life but the life worth living where everything is fair. and everything is fair to THEM, big them, but not fair to us. that's why we make it how we want. but aren't we just like them inside? aren't those strings that same? they're not. my brain = black and white, black and white. color spectrum only goes so far. but it is vast and far, not boundless. nothing is boundless but the universe.

confused. i don't want to repeat what has already been said unless it's for poetic repetitious reasons. everyone seems like they're doing something but i bet they're not, they're just not lonely. i am. but i'm okay with it. so why think they're whispering? black and white brain, fuzz, sussuruss just peace and shut the fuck up already because it hurts. i hit my head on the roof and i fell to the ground and i didn't think i had to fall to the ground, but i needed to for some reason, not for any real physical inability to stand longer but because it fit the scene to fall, why make a fucking scene? is that all i am? i thought i was wrong about something, about my stupid antics that made me nervous about what people were thinking but i was right and should have never let the weight and tension off my shoulders because that's what kept me warm and somewhat sane. now i'm in between and extreme at the same time and it's trifling and tiring and i'm so goddamned weary, just hold me for a few minutes i guess and go along with your day but i will complain all god damned morning and day and night until i get it again. goddamned addict cannot wait until she is deserving and well earned of her rights to have affection and attention, but i give, i give too, i give it all away and i give two shits three shits and then i'm totally constipated, stuck and bound while everyone cheers and then what about when auld lang syne comes on? it's okay to have a few things to love, very few, but give them lots of love. and that's where i think i am right now.

this phase of melancholy is taking too damn long maybe i'm doing something wrong? am i getting stupider? i haven't even done any drugs that affect my intelligence, maybe lots of beer but not to the extreme i'd like to take it to. i just want to feed, off of you, off of everything, but i don't want to be a goddamn parasite and then ihear it in your voice that which i DREAD, disgrace, i will never disgrace you never!
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loud crowd
Date: Dec 1st, 2010 9:54:44 pm - Subscribe
Mood: bonkers

gonna go stop by a show at the parlor to cheer myself up. beer. walking. cold. lingering...wandering...wanting.

im finally going to be the quiet girl in the crowd
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is this real
Date: Dec 1st, 2010 9:38:03 pm - Subscribe
Mood: antisocial

where's the excitement in your voice baby
was it fake?
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