Tuesday, October 7, 2008

i thought we'd passed this point a long time ago.

but apparently not.
i wish talking was still an option. because i am starting to see things from a different perspective. i don't want to be your enemy. but i didn't know what i was signing up for when our lips met. you're the only one smart enough to understand the stupidly big words i throw into the tiniest of sentences. laced with sarcasm, decorated with self-deprecation. i know you got it. and i know you wanted to fix me.
i'm sorry for pushing you away.
at this point all i want is your hand and your lips and the warmth of your hoodies and good memories. i'm so tired of seeing you in the halls and following the code. second period reminds me of you. we've got the same hatred. and there's never a better way to bond.
but i won't let myself feel weak again. and i won't fall to your ways.
it's just so hard.

and you, girl, the way you push and pull drives me crazy. "i'll steal you" was just a joke but now it seems so serious in the dark of my room. there were looks shared today, awkward hands, hugs and double-takes. i don't know how to treat you, now. everything got so solemn since last night. maybe i'll take a leap, saturday. my room is infamous for bad decisions and overly forward moves.

to you: i know you read this. it is not a competition. but it is. i miss your hints and calls. but i'm forcing you out. i'm trying not to care. i want to stare you down from higher ground and pretend i don't know i'm a hypocrite. we both know this is still something so strangely big. i just can't handle it.

"tell me again the part how you didn't feel a thing.
the part how you never actually really ever did."

Thursday, October 2, 2008

you know, boy.

if you just told me you didn't like me, i'd find a way to be okay with that.
it's just these glances and the way you sit close and i just like you so much. i don't think anyone gets it. you are the boy i see in my mind when i close my eyes. the way i dream of the way we talk gives me shivers when i wake up (unless that's just from the cold. i know i'm over analyzing every scene of this movie.) but i know i can't help the way seeing you the way you dress and smile and talk and are, just makes my heart hurt in my chest. i want to show you how much i think this could work. you're the only one i think gets it. everything. i know i'm weird, but i hope you're different enough from me that you can overlook it. this cold weather has me wanting something warm in my heart. that's always been the thought of you but i wish you were more tangible to me. i just wish this wasn't wishes and eleven:eleven and shooting stars and crossed fingers and knock on wood and prayers. i want this and it's the only thing i'm willing to fight for more than myself. this being the way you move and your spider legs and your shyness and your yelling and your voice and your messenger bag and the way every move you make is perfect.
i don't know how i'm going to deal with your no. when all i've been living on for far too long is the idea of your yes.
i guess it's time to move on.
just wish it wasn't.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

"if i kissed your neck, would you slit my throat?"

i can still feel you. unsteady hands, the warmth of breath on your stomach. the way you twist under hands. smooth skin. the dip of a waist. curves and your legs spread with you pressed against me. shaking arms, perched overtop. accidental touches. your mouth on mine. the texture of my lips after kissing. the taste. feeling soft and sexy.
you can't see my blush in the dark. shifting on a noisy bed.
the carefulness of your hands. the way you hold me against you. "it hurts a little." i can still feel it. the hollow of my throat is marked. feel me swallow. the nervousness of my hands on you.
i'm sorry i remind you of her.
i just want to make you feel better and i don't know how.

"we said we weren't going to do this again."
i hope you know i never meant it. i still crave you.
it's nothing as heavy as you think. (i'll regret it in the morning) but you know i love you.
best friends forever.

Monday, September 8, 2008

"and oh, it's always the softest words that crucify, isn't it."

i told blank pages in my mind that they were the only ones who ever really listened to me. i think i got the point across fine now it's just all that fucking eloquence. you see me as cigarettes in bed and white sheets and clever lines and i just see myself as awkward moments neverquiteright unhealthy little girl. everything i see just reminds me of how much i hate myself. or maybe just the situation; 'no one ever changes. only the situation changes. they can change because of the situation but once you put them back they go right to their old ways.' i know the relationship's fucked but i want to cookie-cut it into something i can get. two days to the end. i know you're just trying to help but no one asked you. and you're not quite fit for the task at hand. (just don't know how to tell you this.) talked to the wrong person on the phone today. passive comfort. do what you can to get by. i suppose.
i just want my vices and my heroes and my comfort all in something that will get who this is in this body. what i got stuck with. someone who knows how to help instead of 'just being there'. i'm sick of 'just being there.' i want real help.
yes i know it's not what it looks like and it's never how it seems and it's always a disappointment but maybe.. it won't be. just let me dream that there are people who could care for me circumstance aside. just let me think these people aren't insane for this want for me. just let me believe i'm desired for one moment. my reciprocation of their feelings is simply the rarest thing these days. and i've found someone who fits. you're the one who makes me feel okay with being me. you make me feel sexy and sweet and wanted. fuck eight years. i know it can't be put aside but there's gotta be something we can do to make this feeling fit.
you know i talk to you like this. i'm falling asleep at this desk all crouched up and small. sleeping in closets and inside jokes again finally. it's a collection of objects and fading things. jolt back all the time. all the time all the time all the time. feel the pulse in your skin. you were the only one who told me it was okay. bruises. it's a familiar feeling in the sickest way. if you just press on the bone just so, you'll have my heart. i don't even like you but you've got this part of me now. like you can understand for no reason at all.
listen to old words... write the same lines.
i'm trying to sort things out. if you get lost in the shuffle, i'm sorry. only i'm really not. it's just that you are not a part of what i'm becoming. this smoke and kohl and kisses and hips and 'you're too young for me'. mixed all with these lies. it'll be sad later maybe but for right now it just feels right.

sometimes i'm afraid you're the only one who could tear me apart. i want nothing more than your absence but the craving of your skin confuses me.

Sunday, August 24, 2008

don't pass on me.

everything is so wrong and right.
you can't effect.

"i don't want to go to bed because it means i'm going to wake up.
i don't want to wake up. i don't want time to keep going on."

these moments make no sense.
no one can hate me more than me.

Monday, August 18, 2008


keep tounging the place your old piercing used to be.
familiar pain.

on another note, just to let you know,
i like desperation.

i could do better but i want you.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

dead kids

walking by a businessman.
they pick the pockets that'd bury them.

don't believe the hype. be yourself. ignore the other shit. this is what youve been waiting for. you can only do it right if you're doing it your way. regrets are useless. this is now. everything's rhetorical. there are ultimatums right to follow but you've got to find them on your own. we are a community. it is all going to be alright in the end. you're doing everything right. this is all a step. this is not a drill. this is your life.

they just howl. all night long.

Wednesday, July 30, 2008

gonna be on the tv, momma.

from the front to the back. the beginning to the end.
things have changed for me.

going to be part of a youtube blogging community soon with one of my best friends, one of my most trusted, and two known-from-afars. name to be decided upon shortly. just know i'll tell when it's time. it's gonna be big.

may be joining a band with a lawyer. two other girls. started with the help of someone who's been on mtv. also gonna be big. i better start tuning my bass.

in this past month i saw the ocean, kissed a chick, punched an ex, illegally romanticized, snuck out, took a nap with a boy, dyed my hair, and faked people out.

ready for august?

Tuesday, July 8, 2008

i've got four scars that won't fade.

sometimes i want to rip my throat up from the inside. i want to take a fishing line and hook through my insides and tear myself apart. destroy something awful.
words i can't even speak. you know what they are but i fucking want to shout them. i need to make this feeling real. i need to stop being... me.

i am the world's greatest self-pity machine.

you said you loved me.
i... couldn't respond. i couldn't handle it.
i still can't.
but i want it back more than anything.

it's hard to let go when you don't know why you're even holding on.

Monday, June 30, 2008

dear hopefuls.

i don't trust my own emotions anymore.
too fickle. too fuck-able.
i'll give into anyone one night. the next i'll want to punch their lights out.
love fades in and out like the endings of bad pop songs.
my metaphors have been suffering, evidently.

sometimes i feel like i just need to die.

Friday, June 6, 2008

seasons change your face.

alaska waking hours.

i am determined not to make this turn out like the last time.
to create.
to exist.

i've got a love for a girl with holes in her lips.
for a boy who snaps at everything he loves.
for a kid who can't grow up no matter what you say.

Monday, May 26, 2008

love me cancerously.

and yeah
i'm looking
but not wanting to find.
and yeah
i'm searching
everyplace but my mind.

Saturday, May 24, 2008

drained to the bone.

if you really knew me,
you'd hate me.
if you really loved me,
you wouldn't want to.
if you really knew what you were talking about,
you'd cough up your words.
if you really understood the way i feel,
you'd be dead.

if you even read this, you lil interweb creeps,
/dibsonthescenekids is my myspace. add me. i'm lonely.
and to you, i know you read this. we need to hang out.

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

infinite (sometimes)

trick spent a nervous night in my fingers. blue stubble. baby thin. ruffle and fall. always stopping and restarting, but never ever rebooting. if only. i want to slice my fingers to the bone so the bandages can make me clumsy enough not to pursue any more of his false pleasure he offers. the allure is too strong these days. and i only suffer from it.

tomorrow is dirty old jeans, red hoodies and notebooks.
yesterday was screw-ups, greasy strands, and overwhelming exhaustion.
today was anything but gold.
but it could've been silver.

i want to cease to exist.
more than anything.

Sunday, May 11, 2008


numbers are safe.
music is safe. nothing bad happens when it plays.
do you worship these words? do you?

triangles are the sharpest shapes. but circles are the trickiest to create.
trying to make my world, here.
if you want to come on in, there are forms for you.
we're all very official. unless you are someone specific.

the screws are coming undone, mother.
your friend thought he could resist, too.
but it only prolonged his suffering.
just let us do what we came to do. we are professionals, after all.

Wednesday, May 7, 2008

2012; never 19.

yeah. i'm going to ask you for answers. i'm going to ask you "why me?" i'm going to want you to be by my side because i need that space filled. it gives me comfort.
if this is asking too much, speak up now.
i'm going to break your heart. i will take and disobey every piece of advice. no matter how many times you say it's all going to be okay, i'll still leave that message in your inbox, that voicemail on your phone, that word on your heart that i don't believe. that i am most lost when these things surface. that i am so petrified it's not going to be okay, that i can't occupy this time with something meaningful, because what could be? why would it be?
i'm going to kill you. if you still want to go on, be my guest. this is a fair warning.
i am going to collapse myself into you when the going gets rough. i'm not going to be strong enough to listen to your problems, at least not now, because i am far too unstable in my vacuum-sealed hell right now. being common may be the worst, but i can barely see the options.
but by all means, go on.
if you like the feeling of being a crutch, if you like the way your heart will hurt when you see me collapse again and again under these undetermined forces, these thorns in my side, these diseases in me, go on. if you want the uncertainty of my mind, the unknowing that silence and dark days brings, the self-centered attitude, the heart of a two year old i've got in my chest. it was a bad implant, but you certainly got a good catch.

i am best in drowsy weather, self-pity, salty shirts, un-understood text, heartbreak of others, and the sporadity of the moment. i am best in hindsight, in retrospect, in old memories. i am best left alone.

so if you really want to say you love me, go ahead. just know what you mean. just know what you're getting. just know i can't.

Friday, May 2, 2008

29220d (701280h)

i know it's not "me," but do you think life could convert to some sort of video-game version where you can gain levels and experiences and things and go back to them at any time? so i could go back to '05 and get into this before anything could change what i was and confuse me out of the so-called counterculture and prove myself better by becoming what they were?
it's rambling and nonpoetic, i know. but i'm not in much of a mood. i'm not in much of a mood lately, actually. the minutes pass like liquid. a river of time. an ocean of hours.
do you realize how many days you live? really, do you?
there are 365 days a year. think about it. three hundred and sixty five days to exist, in just one year of your life. how can every day be separate? how can they not bleed into one another with non-waking and non-sleeping and the polar hours they've got up and down? are days defined by the hours or by your schedules? when does night become morning, and what is the cutoff limit for bedtime?
what the fuck does it matter?
is everyone in the world simply there for the pontification of re-hashed arguments, styles, opinions, ideas, so-called advancements? is everyone a reincarnation of past living idols, legends, casualties, civilians? the world, in all the disarray that it continually exists in, seems to function despite the hypocrisy of the act of existence that it thrives through.
why be so focused on fast pleasures? a sign of weakness, a sign of thrill-seeking simplicity in the mind and in society. physical appearances are not to attract such as in animalisic instincts, if we're really so truly evolved from what we were however long ago, according to what you blindly trustingly believe in. if we are evolved, our physical statements should not cause so much attention and mean as much as they apparently do, according to various statistics and the obvious status they have, which can be seen in any supermarket aisle, mindless repetitions of 'headlines' used to make you cycle your money into the wheel of their own fortune. physical statements should be what they are called. used not to draw attention, used not in pure vanity as they are so often used in accordance with those possessing the highly coveted in various rings of marylin monroe impersonators gene; the pure essence of narcissism. for protection against basics, used until they run out of their own cotton-fueled steam. there is no need for fashion, there is no need for such high importance to be placed on the entire stylistic world.
if this is what society is crumbling towards, we may be very well at the end of the world.
if you're scared now, just wait and see.

too much reading of certain subject matter, too much dictionary.com used in the past week, too many stories and too little freedom in such a useless education-filled five-day week. more time spent on punishing us for things we haven't done than praising for what we do. whatever. sound the cry of the poor little high school student. i don't care. this is real. and i'm going to get in on it, even if it kills me. which it might.

"there is nothing you can do that i have not already done to myself."

Friday, April 25, 2008

spread those wings, sparrow kid.

sometimes i go cross-eyed and squeeze my eyes so tight i see white when they're open. feel cold sweat, total heat, nothing i'd deny.
then i'm disheveled and distant. i can't form words to save my life. everything's got a tone no one wants to hear. everything's gone magnified, every action more refined. every kiss simple and chaste. every kid young and perfect.

you're the cornflake colored kid with the honey blonde hair and the dust of freckles on their shoulders. wash out the past with hazy days, green weeks and forever dreams. baby blue baby boy. your haystack hair, your long, lithe limbs. the blonde sprinkling of hair. almost ethereal. pure blue eyes reflected from the waves. sparrow body, puppy eyes. olive branches in your hair and there's no better way to be in love. wrap yourself up in thin, salty clothes. wait for nothing. robin hood of the west coast angels. the reflection of your delicacy is found in your bold actions. beagle, basset hound, retriever. (this) man's best friend. light brown love. forever loyal. you are my pup.

Monday, April 14, 2008

and, back to me.

this is just something so unsolvable.
in an empty house. wanting to be clean.
spill the blues down on the floor just to see.
collect the drugs in a box under your bed.
just in case of a case of something.
just block out the light with your fist, look to the side.
i know. i know. i know. tune down and out. always.

fix this.

Monday, April 7, 2008

cold knuckles and dismissal.

i'm sick of reading fiction because the world's just not made like that. authors of the world unite together to stack my hopes up against the wind.

Sunday, April 6, 2008


a note to everyone:
i don't like anyone.
i don't like you.
and i don't like me.
i can honestly say i'm not just saying this for effect.
so mock it all you want. you'll say the same thing one day.
hey, i'm trying, though. don't write me off.
nothing's perfect but at least i'm trying to get it close.
at least. i am.

Wednesday, March 26, 2008

always epileptic under a barrage of too much human emotion.

how did it get to this?
it's the question you ask when you're underwater, post-mutiny.
lightheaded with nerves running everywhere.
it's not so much a "did that just happen?" kind of thing, more of "how did i let this happen?"
your shakes will blink on and off. always with nothing to appease their anticipation.
my mind is somewhere else when we touch. away. you are a wax figure and my nerves do not exist.
"i am sorry" always runs through my mind. it's the only thing i can say.

you never answer back.
i keep getting left for dead.
and i keep coming back.

Friday, March 21, 2008

off the record.

a lot of times, i think i would've been better off being born a guy.
but then i remember how it feels to be the little spoon.
or to get kissed. not to kiss.
or to have the hand around my waist.
or to feel the little kisses on the forehead.
or to be called pretty over and over again.

and then i'm glad i've got what i've got.
until i decide it's not what i want.

yeah, i've got a boyfriend. rare occurrence. once in a lifetime chance to be jealous of some guy if that's... i'm what you're into.
this goes out to a few specific boys.
one i miss, one i'm ambivalent about, one i'm completely uncertain of.

can you guess what color you are tonight?

honestly, the only actual problem is that i just don't want to feel like i do in such prime conditions.

Thursday, March 6, 2008

two things.

my world is not all i know.
and i want to be a part of everything.

Tuesday, February 26, 2008


what was, was.
now, isn't.
mistakes are made without aftershock comfort.
distance is found geographically and emotionally.
i hate what i am more often than not.
i speak of the end like it's anyday.
and i am so tired all the time.
analyzation of every thought of every thought of every thought.
no one cares. and no one cares if you care.
kid, it's just so much like the beaten up boy spitting a tooth out
been broke down too many times on this trip through it all.
headache head, heartache heart.
i know it's overplayed, but i'm different now.
wish i wasn't. wish i wasn't. wish i wasn't. wish you weren't.

Monday, February 25, 2008

allez, venez, milord!

Venez dans mon royaume:
Je soigne les remords,
Je chante la romance,
Je chante les milords
Qui n'ont pas eu de chance!
Regardez-moi, Milord!

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

called into a radio station today

and asked a question i knew the answer to.
acted all surprised and happy when they told me things i already knew.
thanked them when they said their goodbyes.

most of the reason was fear of being made fun of after i hung up
some of the reason was nerves about my voice being broadcast
but i'm starting to think that the real reason was that i'm running out of questions.

Thursday, February 14, 2008


chipped off hands, chiseled skin. the flakiness of chapped lips and the stinging of salt against a forgotten wound. when you realize you're bleeding from your fingertips. idle hands always were the devil's playthings.
trapped in your head but careful not to be let go. it's not all you've ever known, and it's definitely not the happiest you've ever been but you feel safe in there, in the chamber of trivia, neurons, best friends and nerve endings and organs and blood and water and imagination all crammed into a tiny space. maybe that's why the thoughts are always so eager to get out of their prison cells, tired of being smashed against the barricade and run over by everything passing.
simply wanting to love makes for bad choices and retrospective heartbreak. but wanting to love something and have it love you back is such a simple thing that people seem to take for granted now. to love inanimate creatures and books and words, fucking words? they're dead and lost and no one could ever have anything returned from them, only to. but put your heart into everything you find your interest in, do all you want because it'll be what's best at the time. not in the future, oh, no, but hell, no one can think about that these days without getting a bill from the insurance agency anyhow.
so you think about the way people's hands work without a single thought, how all the strings are pulled perfectly so it won't hurt when you move but it'll give some leeway to everything. a catch-and-release kind of deal. or maybe an action-reaction one. the way habits are carved in ivory-lined neurons and synapses locked up in that head of ours, how forgetting your size can cause such distortion when you finally see what you are looking at for what it truly is and not what it is in your mind-- pale, willowy arms with thin chains wrapped around bumpy, skinny wrists, and gangly legs peeking out from cuts and holes in your jeans, the folds of your skirt and when you move it's like the flames ghosting your body around the ground, your eyes closed and your lips with their dust-pink pout, your sparingly dashed eyelashes curved on your cheekbones, sprinkled with the tiniest of honey sprinkles. your spider fingers have curled around another's once, and it felt so natural you stopped breathing when they fell apart. like everything, they did. and you collected the pieces shamefully and skulked around the house for days. natural flow of things was the reason for it all. you'll love again when things mean more to you than they do now. and you'll grasp another's skeleton hands in your own wisps of fingers and you'll kiss with your own dust-pink lips when they push theirs out in the pose. and bodies will mesh in the haze, and all the peppered thoughts that have floated outside your head will be calmed and returned, their nerves having been rattled for so long, finally soothed by honey voices and timber laughs mixing in the heavy air surrounding.
you'll look at your fingers again one day and see that they've changed. that they have grown and lengthened with years passing, darkened and bleached in the sun like negatives to a camera, hardened with the pressing of strings and softened with the calm touching of old lovers.
you'll kiss them once with your dust-pink lips and then lay them on your chest.
your ghost will slip out your toes and you will be gone, leaving nothing but the grey shell of your ivory skin, pink lips and careful, spidery, willowy hands.
you cannot offer more than you have, child. so offer it with the entirety of your heart. love like your body wants to. and kiss like porcelain against light.
the dust always stirs in the air, but when it settles you will see it.

Monday, February 11, 2008

"kind of pretty. very odd."

all imagination is ignorant.
and all pauses are only in effect for drama.
both sides of the story never get told.
and both sides of the argument are always the same in the end.
no sincerity is ever accomplished without honesty.
and no honesty is ever found without realization.

the twist in the story was only a bend in the beginning
we've got so much left to mess your mind with.
(exlude all your peers because this belongs to you. to you.)

Friday, February 8, 2008


when in fear,
check pockets for identity.
(but note: most vulnerable position is to be caught with hands in pockets.)

emphasize that wounded or injured men will not be left behind.
caution: make sure you are trying to get the attention of friends, not the enemy.

"tell us, why didn't you answer the phone?"
"there was nobody i wanted to talk to."

music: panic attacks!

Thursday, February 7, 2008

don't you know?

the best kids never got the A's.

Sunday, February 3, 2008


is so absolute.

i am exactly how you think i am.

one of my good friends told me a few weeks ago a very big secret of his to relate to what i was crying about that night.
he's a brilliant boy, always spitting lines like "apathy is synonomous to hell," and he was the first person other than my mom to ever hold me when i cried.
he was actually the first person outside of various therapists, to ever listen to me about my stepdad.
he checks up on me. he asks if i'm okay. he can tell when I'm lonely. and he fixes it. he knows i'm a mess and he knows what's best for me. he likes me with the glasses on or off.
and he's real. he's more real than anyone i think i've ever met.
he's amazing. i'm so glad i know him.
but that secret was a crack. and it made me hurt for him.
he cared about me the night i told too many of my own secrets to him. he hung on till the morning.
i want to take all his open wounds and stitch them shut, I want to hug him and let him know someone cares like he did for me. i want to take him away from his father and take away all his apathy about love and tell him he's so incredible.

I want to make this boy breathe clean air every time he inhales. i want to make this boy live to his fullest without anyone hindering his success and hopes and dreams. i want him to marry the prettiest girl and have the nicest house and go to the bahamas every summer. i want him to be the happiest boy alive.

for now i'm content with being his "kiddo." he's my superman. but I'll show him things like he showed me. and i'll make sure he grows stronger.

I saw the future tonight. or a ditch of it.

roots. a burgundy cover of inverted topsoil. the roots are white and seem to glow. the soil around the burgundy area is a solid-scratchy color of beige-white. it has cracks in it or so it seems. the layer after is grey-beige-black, with ivory roots coming straight through. the walls seem to form now, around. we are in the opposite corner, rounded corner, of course. looking at the opposite side to the left of us. the cracks are black in the first layer and white in the lower layer. the last layer is a seemingly inpenetrable rock of black. solid darkness. but if you look on the edges, before the hole goes down, down, into the earth, the roots barely make its way around the rock, around the big black darkness if only for a short and small while. the cracks i believe continue on a small bit after the roots make their mark on it, but they are evident almost to the center, albeit only one or two visible, and only if you look very very hard. the shading around the top of the hole is dark green and a solid kind of black, mixed but not marbleized. the plant's stem seems to grow above and make dark leafy paths into the dark air around it, but it seems almost mutated, or short and close to the ground. it crawls around the top, but almost an inch above where the topsoil starts. the burgundy layer slowly shifts into the white one, making a shallow dent in the ground. there are white veins in the burgundy soil. there seems to be tan all around, on the outside of this ditch, it's there but it's almost as if we've come upon this discovery simply by chance. the radience of all the colors glow for another minute.

until the tired mother digs her trowel into the ground and pulls the weed out by its base. the summer is coming and she needs to level out the ground for her garden.

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

"you've got so much love in you."

makes me want to shout and smile and run and scream and jump and play and live.

i've felt this before.

this time, though, I'm gonna try my hardest to do something to make it permanent.

Sunday, January 27, 2008

kissed you, didn't miss you. missed you, didn't kiss you.

the only song that can make my heart hurt
physically, i mean. none of that mental shit i've been putting myself through.
brings up thoughts of summer rain.
and salty skin
and sunburn afternoons
and warm water
and disposable cameras
and so many firsts
and too much more.

putting everything on ice only to wait till it freezes to the core
i never really know what i'm talking about
i'm gonna change that someday

"you should try saying 'no' once in a while."

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

to the great heights of vanity.

he told me, "please stop scraping the skin off old wounds."

but i told him, "that's how they become scars."

Saturday, January 19, 2008

strangers on this road, we all are.

i put your face in boxes at one in the morning last night.
i read those stories and leafed those journals for the last time.
i took down all those photostrips from the summer,
i took every polaroid from my wall, every drawing you ever gave me,
every present, every note, every book,
i put them into a box, and buried them from my head.
i vow not to think of any times i've had with you with any nostalgia,
with any want to go back, with any smile on my features,
with any love.


I'm done.

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

the compression of your heart hurts at first, but you ache for it when it's gone.

i never really understood. i just felt.
and was.
it was the kind of season that got stuck in your head. or just got stuck in general.
cold. coats. hats. gloves. uniforms. waiting at the bus stop. jamming earbuds into your ears and leaning your head against the metal. watching the snow. feeling the wind.
feeling out your surroundings.
you were okay because no one knew you. they didn't know what to expect.
once they learned, once they judged, once they expected, it was shot down.
it was brief.
it was internal.
it was important.
it was the hardest time.
it was my last moment of being innocent.

i miss it. but it would kill me if i went back. and that's impossible to do anyhow.

up on a hill, windy in a playground, getting mail and talking with your friends.
it was my love and it went too fast.

I’m calling in sick (of myself) tomorrow.

i stare in the mirror and don't even see what looks back and follows me.
my eyes are red and swolen and sad. they reflect nothing, they are wide and bright, but i feel nothing like what they say. more like the kid dropped off a cliff.
lived a whole life without even living. there's something in my soul that tells me everything i know.
i am old in my head and young in my body. and long to find a way to fuse the two.
but all i've come up with is sitting alone and ignoring the way my stomach hurts when i breathe. and the way i can't think about anything else but me.
it's a self-centered way i've perfected now. it revolves around me. but only halfheartedly.
but i can see through all the dumb things you've done. i can see the person you are. and your tiny body gets crushed in the gravity of it.
but i am sick of living in this body. i am sick of my scrawniness and misshapen form. i am sick of my straw hair and my beady eyes and my flaky lips.
i don't know how to board up all my walls. because the twister is coming and i am the only one left in town. the only one with more than a clue. and the only one to wake up.

get out. i need to branch away. i need to grow, and i need to live.

Sunday, January 13, 2008


right wrist pain.
cutting off the bands.
wrinkled fingers.
greasy hair.
goofy smile.
disconnected songs in my head.

cuffed jeans, dirty clothes, little stomach.
but most of all the appetite.

get it together, kid.

Thursday, January 10, 2008

you are all straight lines and vanity.
unknowing obsession and hopeless hopelessness.
in the worst way.
you judge when you're awake and think when you're asleep.
you've got all the wit in the world waiting inside your stereo.
but you are a consumer, not a creator.
you will never go through a hard time without complaining about it the entire way through.
it's like you believe the world belongs to you.
like you can put everything on a postcard and ship it off to yourself.
well you can't.
everything 'cool' you do is done in complete consciousness.
shut your eyes.
become something real.
because i'm not sure if i can believe in you anymore.

Tuesday, January 8, 2008


how are moral compasses made? how are they created? how do they work? who are their mothers? what movies do they watch? are they single or married? where do they live? what do they do? what do they think of at night? do they participate in world events? do they read the newspaper? are they funny? do they tell good jokes? do they have many friends? do they have a best friend? is their best friend a screwup?
where can i find one?

Monday, January 7, 2008

i can tell, you're raising hell.

i've never been a stargirl. i keep hiding my face in my hands.
you say the best lines and reference the most credible things, and i'm having trouble with existing right now.
maybe i can blame some of it on physical capabilities and clumsy hands.
probably not.

i like to say it's a throwback to the '05 days.
which isn't a good thing, in all honesty.

"i just wanna feel how you do tonight.
give me your warm-weather heart,
and hand over that head you've so badly broken.

i can play doctor,
give you a pill and some med-term advice,
but the truth is that all i want
is to put your blood in mine.

and feel what you are,
heavy in my veins
and pumping through my heart.

all i want is to be you for a second.
so i can understand."

Thursday, January 3, 2008

proof that i will never become a computer genius.

the bottom of my screen, the little blue bar that shows the time and has the little 'start' thingy on it on the left?
yeah, that thing?

don't know how. thank god i know ctrl+alt+delete and that the little flag button on the keyboard makes the 'start' thing pop up.

i am a mechanical idiot.