i'm drunk like everyday...bad sign.

Yay, for a real problem for once.
Boo, for a real problem for once.

I love to work hard but everytime I get started I have to stop immediately, and I can't start. I can't start because I don't want to do it and then have nothing to stop. I could brush up a few of my old pieces here, brush them up and make them shiny and see if I could publish them as prose poetry, but it all feels wrong somehow, or like too ( Read more... )

Do you know what it is like to go absolutely insane. To have the world rain down on you with unforseeable strangeness and a seeming hatred? I love my boyfriend he is clean and new, but I cat even seem to do that right. The sun goes down and then comes up again. The sun rises and then falls again untouched. I cannot change anything, am not willing ( Read more... )

I love that everyone has left Livejournal. It means that in moments like this I can type almost whatever i want. In moments that I remember that this exists in the first place, that I used to exist here almost more than in my own body. That i used to spend nights where everything was going just right worrying over how i was going to articulate ( Read more... )

I washed myself hard today, harder than I have in a long time. I ran the cloth over my skin, pressing my palm down hard, so that the fabric would wear me down a little at a time. I turned the faucet until the water was too hot. I can turn red too, you know, be scalded into a color closer to your own, but either way it's a different sort of thing ( Read more... )

Dearest ( Read more... )

Dear you ( Read more... )

Most days I think of you at least once. Not that you'll read this, or that I want you to. It's just that most days I think of you at least once, and I don't want to be the sort of girl who sends these sort of text messages or writes these sort of facebook messages or does any of the public/private things I used to think were halfway provocative ( Read more... )

4 Chambers, 4 doorways that only work in one direction. An in and an out, a system for oxygenation, a mediocre regeneration, a flow that can only be followed and not countered. The doorways are different sizes, the chambers too, the amount of blood pumping through them limited by the variant dimensions. Although, of course it’s not true that it ( Read more... )

We lay together in her full bed, whispering in conspiracy in the dark. She stretched and arched her back, clasping her hands around the bars of her wrought-iron headboard. Her armpits were clumsily shaven. I could smell her, but I didn’t care right then. She always fell asleep before I did, and I always listened to her breathing in the dark, ( Read more... )