(no subject)
>I felt the dawn like life, white, too white, with seven minutes left of touch and heat, seven minutes left to breathe. The sun was too pale and my eyes were blurred and burning. and with my arms tired from fighting it, I found he's able to kill me for me, for him, kill him for me, for us. you found I don't really want to stop you from finding out that I only tell the truth.
I like the belief that we'll know everything in death.
She plays poker with holes in her chest, jealousy plays a role with holes in it's head.
He stops the waves because his feet touch the bottom. Violence above his jawbone, silence at his knees down below, down far from where he can listen. Down where the bullet with your intentions inscribed is fading in the river water. down below with the fish and his toes, cold green, crude and gentle.
She splashes his face a reminder and hides her smile, let's go back, I don' want to go. I don't wanna go. and I'm happier than I've been in a long time but I can't budge and this is dishonest of me, hence the moment, it crucifies me onto it's promises and I don't want to sleep, here, now cause when I wake up you'll be there on my telephone and I want this to be my day - a day of my own, my day, mine. Don't want to forgive what they know not for I am too delicate to understand these trespassing defilements of yours, eating away at my garbage and leaving the mess on my pillow to be cleaned up by sleep. no. I am not back I am better than you. I am not back here. I don't want to be here with you... I want you to crawl.
that would be nice, it would be right.
but you've lost your way and I've grown up. You've issued your threat and as much as I love your shores, You have too many diseases for me to ignore.
I want to rip my heart out like I tried on the platform today and replace it with its twin made of rock, but she beats dangerously strong.
I feel my courage swell, even if it's only temporary.
Her nights are winning their battle over daylight and the elements are rearing their ugly heads, but I want to celebrate every break and bruise on this body. for better, for worse - this is my home and today I don't know if I can trade her in for a better life.
I do not want to move, I don't want to leave.
I finally said it, and the sky ended up smiling at me.
(but tomorrow, or the day after...I know my resolve will wilt and I will fold again)
He is my counterpart, my perfect equal. While surrounding people recognize this, I chose to ignore it for reasons mysterious to me now.
proper antics & absolut
a lifetime's life plans strewn across my floorboards
the most gorgeous of stories whispering from the distance
it comes back to creation
there's only ever one square to come back to
and this may just be the wire
I think to myself how it would be so beautiful to run away at any moment, so have less love inside me so that the truly unbound moments could take me away, lift me off my feet. I could just walk away from the people I cared so deeply once for, just cut the cord.
whatsoever. all I want to do is write or take still images and wear cotton shirts, precious stoned jewlery and loose men's trousers with my skate showes. would the universe still love me even if I married you and gave up my selfish desires?
I bite my lips too much these days and blood is my permanent lipstain
these days I love who I am and the moments I have with feral passion and the core.
I dreamt that I contracted the West Nile Virus and when I woke up I itched my hand and looked down to see two monstre bites on my wrist.
ah, death becomes her.
i looked down at the silver dragon encircling my right ring finger. I felt this overwhelming sense of safety; each breath I take is something I cherish. the world and its oceans are in my hands and deep in my heart I feel healed, much of my past pain has been torn apart and I am renewed somehow. I have only the slightest idea how I got to this place but I venerate it.
Leather wrists can't protect my heart just as I like to think...
I am floating, grinning ear to ear and turning corners and collapsing in heaps and fits of giggles, in motion- in pure fucking oblivion. I am certain and devoid of concern that I have been caught in midst celebration of this ardent thing. This emotion uncontained must look like a car crash, flesh and blood flowing. The desire to look away at this private scene but the curiosity of seeing someone get hurt. I am untied and unraveled. At work the Creature touched me lightly on the bones of my back and whispered into my ear,
It's like all of a sudden I take a step back and look at myself and realize that BAM- this is what I've always wanted to be. Even when something tries to bring me down, I roll with it. I feel like I'm working hard, but when everything gets done I don't understand how it worked out so well.
Basically, at this exact point in time, I am exactly, precisely, where and whom I want to be. It is probably the most amazing feeling I've ever had.
I finally saw the sky today
like the sugary tint of your eyes
and I addressed the sun from where he lay
but it was glowing pale and tattered around the sides
And your smile made the moon jealous
and he made the stars fall out of thier beds
It must've been beautiful, the Morning will tell us
when we survey the streets in blues and reds
And then traffic stopped and everyone froze
and you and I just stood there looking on
while everyone gazed off in blank repose
and the dandelions dismantled themselves across the lawn.
Charley is the best thing that ever happened to me. & TV. I mean it.
I want our worlds to fucking mesh and watch us get drunk and hold them in our hands.
Our cowboys have gone completely insane and we giggle behind cupped palms as we whisper back and forth.
why are we dying? but find humor in staying alive?
Some people laugh when they are scared. we need to get together some time to drink tequila and run naked footed in the snow dressed in thrift shop wedding gowns just for the fuck of it, just to feel alive. seriously though.
My breath tastes like hospital, antiseptic. blue walled. the dirt underneath my fingernails smell of the presence of your rain in my panties, [mmm] closer. it takes me back home, inside the watermelon growing from the ashes of our cigarettes and the dry blood of our eulogized cruelty, honest mistakes.
We set the monsters loose to prove to ourselves that this is worth the suicide and reincarnation of the fist initial connection where we both were but wide eyes and damp foreheads, all want and needs for sale for cheap prices of "that could of meant anything" but I'll take it as this because we both meet here and it feels good, so good. better than anything I've ever stolen, better than anything I've ever worked for. and we were vain enough to say we deserved it. such purity for nothing. and it's passed, two years more ripe, plump, grown to learn you must kill for purity, seduce and forget yourself for purity. expose your ugliness for purity and use your guilty tears and throbbing chest to turn weakness to innocence. utmost forgiveness. forgiveness of falsity, forgiving deception and turning it into a love story. just so you know it's stronger than you thought, stronger than you need. just so you'd see that yea, I throw a fit, yea, I do. yes, I fucking need you and your gashes. and yes, just like the scent of my skin lies about what's inside: I have faith.
He's fucking with that white bitch and I'm scared to death everything is going to fall apart.
chewing artificially flavoured cinnamon chewing gum. letting my many cups of coffee turn cold. et cetera. We all like the things we should not mention in grey masses.
Sometimes I get these dim stupid urges to devour moist yet slices of bacon raw and pink with a slobbery vengeance. These corrupt yearnings are irksome and I'd much rather think of chocolate.
On my breaks at work I law on the concreate outside, oblivious to the passing consumers and their invasive glances, with my headscarf and work badge,skirt over pants that they say isn't cute,, close my eyes and pretend that I am Cleopatra. I play dead. Imagining porcelain sale bloodless skin and perfect stillness. The white noise in my head is silent, meaningless. Most of all I imagine that I can feel on pain.
Remember how a friend said he hated blowjobs because they made woman subservient you said he was crazy because a woman is never more powerful than when she has a man's jewels in her mouth. Wonder why they call them blow jobs. Blowing has nothing to do with it.
“Happiness was but the occasional episode in a general drama of pain” (Thomas Hardy).
Perfection is something I strive too hard for? or too less? I am trying to figure that one out, thank you very much LIFE for rushing me.
submission with the happiest part of me.
scar tissues are thinning,
& (when I say submission, I am vividly imagining a star being swallowed by a galaxy.)
I wake up feeling like love.
I say this too much but this is the way it is supposed to be. mornings should be something phenomenal that leaves the rest of the day fuller and lighter, even after you slip inbetween bed sheet and close your eyelids. day break, wash, rinse, repeat.
there shouldn't have to be a continuous battle to obtain happiness. we should be able to feel it down to our core, inside our bones, shake and quiver til our bellies are heavy and hurting.
happiness should be a plague.
There should be a law somewhere saying we are entitled to more smiles than frowns in a day.
I need a strange place to be, a lie is a lie to make you feel pretty. I love it almost as much as penetration, for some reason i find it sexier. because sex kills intimacy but imagination and desire prospers. it seems that penetration is what happens when the connection of mind and soul is lacking. unless the sex is brutal and honest, I don't want it. I'm not one to just fuck.
Individualism isn't too appealing when you're in love. you just want to become cookie dough and mold into each other and lie there on the counter together, forever until you dry up and die or be cooked plump in the heat of each other and eaten alive by the oven. it doesn't matter, as long as we are completely together through the whole thing. as long as we don't have minds of our own but a mind of each other. the mind of a cookie, organs like a chocolate chip. we taste exactly the same when we don't leave the house for days and soak in each other's saliva for hours. that's what I like. I am not tempted by anything else. I'm fucking pure. utter & I am and it makes me terribly mad because nobody can hear. i wonder if you're the same or if you are simply bending off of me, like they all do when they think they've fallen.
I wonder where I'm supposed to be.
I want to control every heartbeat.
I want to be violent, shatter glass, push steel into skin, make something bleed.
but really self centered people annoy me, even though I give in to that sometimes. I see myself in a mirror with him and so I do understand. it's purely survivial instinct. when you must focus on yourself and live couch to couch, day by day, you must not include others or get attached.
it's something i understand but don't agree with now that I am on the other side. let me in, get attached, sew your heart to mine, take me with you, let me take you in.
(I take comfort in the fact no one can scare me like I can)
You and I share a common bond--an unspoken chemical reaction of hearts. It never fails, I can look at you and my heart will melt inside my chest.
I like the belief that we'll know everything in death.
She plays poker with holes in her chest, jealousy plays a role with holes in it's head.
He stops the waves because his feet touch the bottom. Violence above his jawbone, silence at his knees down below, down far from where he can listen. Down where the bullet with your intentions inscribed is fading in the river water. down below with the fish and his toes, cold green, crude and gentle.
She splashes his face a reminder and hides her smile, let's go back, I don' want to go. I don't wanna go. and I'm happier than I've been in a long time but I can't budge and this is dishonest of me, hence the moment, it crucifies me onto it's promises and I don't want to sleep, here, now cause when I wake up you'll be there on my telephone and I want this to be my day - a day of my own, my day, mine. Don't want to forgive what they know not for I am too delicate to understand these trespassing defilements of yours, eating away at my garbage and leaving the mess on my pillow to be cleaned up by sleep. no. I am not back I am better than you. I am not back here. I don't want to be here with you... I want you to crawl.
that would be nice, it would be right.
but you've lost your way and I've grown up. You've issued your threat and as much as I love your shores, You have too many diseases for me to ignore.
I want to rip my heart out like I tried on the platform today and replace it with its twin made of rock, but she beats dangerously strong.
I feel my courage swell, even if it's only temporary.
Her nights are winning their battle over daylight and the elements are rearing their ugly heads, but I want to celebrate every break and bruise on this body. for better, for worse - this is my home and today I don't know if I can trade her in for a better life.
I do not want to move, I don't want to leave.
I finally said it, and the sky ended up smiling at me.
(but tomorrow, or the day after...I know my resolve will wilt and I will fold again)
He is my counterpart, my perfect equal. While surrounding people recognize this, I chose to ignore it for reasons mysterious to me now.
proper antics & absolut
a lifetime's life plans strewn across my floorboards
the most gorgeous of stories whispering from the distance
it comes back to creation
there's only ever one square to come back to
and this may just be the wire
I think to myself how it would be so beautiful to run away at any moment, so have less love inside me so that the truly unbound moments could take me away, lift me off my feet. I could just walk away from the people I cared so deeply once for, just cut the cord.
whatsoever. all I want to do is write or take still images and wear cotton shirts, precious stoned jewlery and loose men's trousers with my skate showes. would the universe still love me even if I married you and gave up my selfish desires?
I bite my lips too much these days and blood is my permanent lipstain
these days I love who I am and the moments I have with feral passion and the core.
I dreamt that I contracted the West Nile Virus and when I woke up I itched my hand and looked down to see two monstre bites on my wrist.
ah, death becomes her.
i looked down at the silver dragon encircling my right ring finger. I felt this overwhelming sense of safety; each breath I take is something I cherish. the world and its oceans are in my hands and deep in my heart I feel healed, much of my past pain has been torn apart and I am renewed somehow. I have only the slightest idea how I got to this place but I venerate it.
Leather wrists can't protect my heart just as I like to think...
I am floating, grinning ear to ear and turning corners and collapsing in heaps and fits of giggles, in motion- in pure fucking oblivion. I am certain and devoid of concern that I have been caught in midst celebration of this ardent thing. This emotion uncontained must look like a car crash, flesh and blood flowing. The desire to look away at this private scene but the curiosity of seeing someone get hurt. I am untied and unraveled. At work the Creature touched me lightly on the bones of my back and whispered into my ear,
It's like all of a sudden I take a step back and look at myself and realize that BAM- this is what I've always wanted to be. Even when something tries to bring me down, I roll with it. I feel like I'm working hard, but when everything gets done I don't understand how it worked out so well.
Basically, at this exact point in time, I am exactly, precisely, where and whom I want to be. It is probably the most amazing feeling I've ever had.
I finally saw the sky today
like the sugary tint of your eyes
and I addressed the sun from where he lay
but it was glowing pale and tattered around the sides
And your smile made the moon jealous
and he made the stars fall out of thier beds
It must've been beautiful, the Morning will tell us
when we survey the streets in blues and reds
And then traffic stopped and everyone froze
and you and I just stood there looking on
while everyone gazed off in blank repose
and the dandelions dismantled themselves across the lawn.
Charley is the best thing that ever happened to me. & TV. I mean it.
I want our worlds to fucking mesh and watch us get drunk and hold them in our hands.
Our cowboys have gone completely insane and we giggle behind cupped palms as we whisper back and forth.
why are we dying? but find humor in staying alive?
Some people laugh when they are scared. we need to get together some time to drink tequila and run naked footed in the snow dressed in thrift shop wedding gowns just for the fuck of it, just to feel alive. seriously though.
My breath tastes like hospital, antiseptic. blue walled. the dirt underneath my fingernails smell of the presence of your rain in my panties, [mmm] closer. it takes me back home, inside the watermelon growing from the ashes of our cigarettes and the dry blood of our eulogized cruelty, honest mistakes.
We set the monsters loose to prove to ourselves that this is worth the suicide and reincarnation of the fist initial connection where we both were but wide eyes and damp foreheads, all want and needs for sale for cheap prices of "that could of meant anything" but I'll take it as this because we both meet here and it feels good, so good. better than anything I've ever stolen, better than anything I've ever worked for. and we were vain enough to say we deserved it. such purity for nothing. and it's passed, two years more ripe, plump, grown to learn you must kill for purity, seduce and forget yourself for purity. expose your ugliness for purity and use your guilty tears and throbbing chest to turn weakness to innocence. utmost forgiveness. forgiveness of falsity, forgiving deception and turning it into a love story. just so you know it's stronger than you thought, stronger than you need. just so you'd see that yea, I throw a fit, yea, I do. yes, I fucking need you and your gashes. and yes, just like the scent of my skin lies about what's inside: I have faith.
He's fucking with that white bitch and I'm scared to death everything is going to fall apart.
chewing artificially flavoured cinnamon chewing gum. letting my many cups of coffee turn cold. et cetera. We all like the things we should not mention in grey masses.
Sometimes I get these dim stupid urges to devour moist yet slices of bacon raw and pink with a slobbery vengeance. These corrupt yearnings are irksome and I'd much rather think of chocolate.
On my breaks at work I law on the concreate outside, oblivious to the passing consumers and their invasive glances, with my headscarf and work badge,skirt over pants that they say isn't cute,, close my eyes and pretend that I am Cleopatra. I play dead. Imagining porcelain sale bloodless skin and perfect stillness. The white noise in my head is silent, meaningless. Most of all I imagine that I can feel on pain.
Remember how a friend said he hated blowjobs because they made woman subservient you said he was crazy because a woman is never more powerful than when she has a man's jewels in her mouth. Wonder why they call them blow jobs. Blowing has nothing to do with it.
“Happiness was but the occasional episode in a general drama of pain” (Thomas Hardy).
Perfection is something I strive too hard for? or too less? I am trying to figure that one out, thank you very much LIFE for rushing me.
submission with the happiest part of me.
scar tissues are thinning,
& (when I say submission, I am vividly imagining a star being swallowed by a galaxy.)
I wake up feeling like love.
I say this too much but this is the way it is supposed to be. mornings should be something phenomenal that leaves the rest of the day fuller and lighter, even after you slip inbetween bed sheet and close your eyelids. day break, wash, rinse, repeat.
there shouldn't have to be a continuous battle to obtain happiness. we should be able to feel it down to our core, inside our bones, shake and quiver til our bellies are heavy and hurting.
happiness should be a plague.
There should be a law somewhere saying we are entitled to more smiles than frowns in a day.
I need a strange place to be, a lie is a lie to make you feel pretty. I love it almost as much as penetration, for some reason i find it sexier. because sex kills intimacy but imagination and desire prospers. it seems that penetration is what happens when the connection of mind and soul is lacking. unless the sex is brutal and honest, I don't want it. I'm not one to just fuck.
Individualism isn't too appealing when you're in love. you just want to become cookie dough and mold into each other and lie there on the counter together, forever until you dry up and die or be cooked plump in the heat of each other and eaten alive by the oven. it doesn't matter, as long as we are completely together through the whole thing. as long as we don't have minds of our own but a mind of each other. the mind of a cookie, organs like a chocolate chip. we taste exactly the same when we don't leave the house for days and soak in each other's saliva for hours. that's what I like. I am not tempted by anything else. I'm fucking pure. utter & I am and it makes me terribly mad because nobody can hear. i wonder if you're the same or if you are simply bending off of me, like they all do when they think they've fallen.
I wonder where I'm supposed to be.
I want to control every heartbeat.
I want to be violent, shatter glass, push steel into skin, make something bleed.
but really self centered people annoy me, even though I give in to that sometimes. I see myself in a mirror with him and so I do understand. it's purely survivial instinct. when you must focus on yourself and live couch to couch, day by day, you must not include others or get attached.
it's something i understand but don't agree with now that I am on the other side. let me in, get attached, sew your heart to mine, take me with you, let me take you in.
(I take comfort in the fact no one can scare me like I can)
You and I share a common bond--an unspoken chemical reaction of hearts. It never fails, I can look at you and my heart will melt inside my chest.