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and they were YOUR words that came sloshing out of me years and ages after we'd stopped thinking about it entrely. -
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I just slapped the shit out of myself and my inner thought-voice got lower, flat and stopped whimpering.
Hand print pressure seems to be the key. -
Slowly but surely
I am going to figure out how to do this again ( Read more... ) -
6/7/10
I never went home. It’s more than safe to say ( Read more... ) -
5/30/10
I can’t write anything anymore because I’m only honest about myself when I’m having an emotional breakdown. And after that tidal wave guts me like a sterile isolation cell, I find I have no energy to interpret the convulsing madness beyond the dried goo that trickles out from fresh, steaming cracks in the surface of my face and plasters me to the -
5/28/10
Writing ( Read more... ) -
Repost? From Feb 3, 2006
I'm not one to pop off. If I'm feeling aggravated, I like to choke it back until I can properly sort out my outrage on my own time. I've never had a face-to-face reason oppressive, inspiring or radically offensive enough to boil my blood into unrestrained rage, yet. Everything in my life is emotionally related to this source of animosity. I can't ( Read more... ) -
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It feels weird. How did I get here ( Read more... ) -
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It's not what I do or what I say. It's not the routine or the plan or how I write it down. This isn't an excuse or an explaination either; it's a free fall. I'm just dropping straight now - opening everything and letting in run crazily through the streets on impulse and imagination. A thirst that I drew in the corner of the page has smeared itself ( Read more... ) -
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It may be early, but I believe the spike ascended.