The touch feels more like leprosy than love.
If this is the best I get, then I'll see you all later.
I slashed my wrist last night, but not in the way you'd think.
not in the definite way.
It scared me how deep the wound went and I felt nothing.

I'm up to my eyeballs in assholes.
I think I may be incapable of being loved,
which in turn would explain why ( Read more... )

the sample proved the majority. 
lasting impressions are unfavorable.

this day is allready shaping up to be awful.

22. 
big fucking deal.

 an amber liquid 
It liqufies my vocabulary
leads to thoughts of feeling,
thoughts of fleeing.
...some way or another, 
you'll find a way out of this little one.

oh you,
my petty little liar.
It must be nice to feel so little.
I can't imagine how impressed you must feel.
broke a spirit. interrupted a life. 
(again,)

I suppose it was naive to believe I was ( Read more... )

I wrote this two years ago,
 I reworked it a little, I think this sounds better

The thought to flee comes as the room becomes a tomb.
The walls close in, screaming every secret that has been a permanent stain, covered by paint and promises.
Suffocation is not only probable, but imminent.
Words that have been repressed far too long come out in a slow ( Read more... )

 Things progressed toward an unimpressive angle.
It was hard to gauge even two years ago how little it would impact future choices.
The lie was repeated
The same blue line results appeared.
Swollen stomach, damanged ego.
Insane.
Just plain insane.
Keep pushing through the denial.
The liquor always warms the blood like a passionate rage.
Hot sticky guilt, 
( Read more... )

 its really frusterating to put absolutly everything you have into the well being of another and have them repeatedly let you down/abandon you/forget about you.

slash take advantage of you.

fool me once, shame on you.

fool me twice...

shoot me in the head, I'm not going to learn.

"I don't know when I'm going to be home," she said.
I don't know if I'm ever coming home, she thought.
A gentle voice wafts over through the haze of the brutal self annihilation,
singing soft promises of springtime.

The vodka keeps the bottle cold in his pocket,
"You have your pills, we all gotta  get to sleep somehow," he said.
This was never, ever my ( Read more... )

I'd really like a time-out.
I'd really like a do-over.

I'd really like to come home.

kindly shut the door behind you ( Read more... )

A sparrow's song of blatent disregard ( Read more... )