I had a dream
To live in the mountains,
With a dog,
A black border collie to be exact,
Become an author,
Write a book
But still
Hang out in that mountain.

I had a dream,
That one day
I'd go on a road trip,
Just me and my best buds,
Snapping photos,
Chatting,
Just living a life
with no worries at all.

I had a dream
That I'd grow up happy
Don't care about the money,
Don't care about the stress,
Just happiness.

I had a dream,
And you?

You crushed it with a
All your
Might.

The author?
That's never gonna happen
Because you're gonna spend
Seven years studying
Architecture
Designing buildings,
Being all techy,
You won't have time for your
Stupid little dog,
Or your mountains,
None of that would

Exist.

Your road trip?
You'll be spending time on the road
In congestions
Towards the city,
Where you'll go to work
Where you'll suffer
For the rest of your life.

Until
You
Die.

Your worst idea
Is growing up being
Happy.

Happiness is when you finally become
Successful,
But that ain't never gonna happen to you,
Success isn't for lazy pigs
Who cause parents to split apart,
Who ruin lives,
Who dream of stupid dreams
Like living on mountains
With a dog.

You're gonna stay this way,
Forever,
Perhaps be my little servant one day.
You wanna talk about dreams?
Well my dream
Is to
See
You
Suffer.

I have one last dream,
It still lives on
It grows bigger and bigger
Every night.
It's the only one left,
That I still hold onto
Dearly:
To save someone
From a car accident,
I pray it's soon,
I pray it's now.

Then finally,
I'll prove you wrong,
And I'll finally die

Happy.

old makeup spilled on my floor
dirty clothes strewn on my floor

You can hardly see the carpet for all the clothes carelessly being trodden on. Blue holiday lights are strung around the mirror. I am watching Andy Warhol eating a hamburger on a new, thousand dollar laptop, slick-as-a-whistle, paid with a swipe. For the past six months, I have had less than four hundred combined checking and savings, and that number dwindles by the day. I have no groceries, but I've got fistfuls of orange prescription bottles, and I was handing pills out like candy (but they are needed, much and every day).

Where did all these bills come from?
Suddenly, it costs money to breathe.

Eating? Oh pshaw, that costs money, and the store's six blocks away.

I pout on my throne of dirty cotton, thinking I get what I ask for, when I ask, and it always comes--at a price! It's always over a hundred dollars more than I could spare and brings bad luck, moreso than a couple broken mirrors would, even if they were smashed over a the back of your mother's black cat.

"Quick! Let's do designer drugs with the paltry change given by our parents! I wouldn't feel like I wasn't nothing, nothing at all," I say, batting my eyelashes, "Wouldn't they feel proud of our feelings of entitlement to the greater things in life and consciously responsible adult-like decisions?"

I crack open my father's checking account with the swipe of a magnetic strip,
it makes me seem responsible when he sees I just use it for pills and foodstuff.

(I prove I love him and he loves me this way)

Now, together, we will buy strawberries with his money,
they must be four dollars, at the very least, then we eat like the bourgeoisie (!)

I kiss the cheeks of my reflection in the bathroom
tousling my hair, tipsy, as I touch up my face by
licking the tips of eyeliner up like a cat's little tail,
the ends of eyes, coated with eyeliner as black as
my tightest velvet pants and dark, dark heart.

We go together.

You should move to a big city
and I'll come call, prepaid, with
a voice that is thick and ripped,
chattering of sugar-white beaches
as I cross the seas all on a plane,
all the while drunk on red wine,
twirling my fingers around, with
bags under eyes, a little anemic

(I think it adds to the glamour)

We will go out to a dimly lit place
We will go out dancing then after

I will put on dab perfume under my ears and on my wrists,
I will wear black tights for pants, but first, do a little cocaine
and you will fasten the clasp on my silver necklace tonight,
while I smoke, before helping me put on my favorite fur

And we will go see Andy, at the factory
I hear he's doing something
with that Basquiat fellow (!)

I will go follow false luxuries, come with me.
I will gamble with you in Monte Carlo or Las Vegas,
just as long as you pay my rent at $695 per month,
until I die, or something else.

I am waiting for a twenty two.
Two eleven's have past but they will not do
from Piccadilly to Putney
home in time for ham,cheese and chutney
and here it comes.

Humming along brum brum brum
get on the bus
swipe the card
not too hard
taking a seat take the weight of my feet
and in the air from up the stairs the smell of food
someone is chewing on chicken
sucking on bones
the women in front are gabbling in phones
and the child behind cries
I've dropped my fries
then an old lady slips on these crispy fried chips
and the bus comes to a halt.
The driver jumps up
screaming this isn't my fault.

Not my day at all
just wanted to get home with no smell of chicken
no phones in my face
but now I'm stuck in the bus
face to face
with the realisation that Putney and ham with cheese and Chutney
is slipping away.
No
not my day at all.

im not sure how long you expect me to just sit here and watch you day after day be so perfect

and it's the craziest thing that day after day its been that way
i wish we could just meet up at that market that you speak of and
i'm sorry i didn't make it to that concert its not that i wasn't thinking i was just sleeping


if i die without saying anything, it can go a bunch of ways
i could get shot up by a cop but then again it could come from a gand or band
but if i die before i do say anything at all, then the world stays the same, and yeah it wil still fall, but the people will continue to suffer, which is what they need, they don't deserve to know what i know, plus it's to insane to hold what my rhmyes'll do to this world, in a second, i cant let them catch me, but the words will never justify how my life has been so i'll , a movie couldn't do it, and neither can the people i put in my will.  

I am worth more than anyone before and to me your gold is foil for it's not talent it's a metal, but see to me talent is priceless kinetic energy processes it  makes for provisinary comment which lead to heightening objects which is what keeps us on on to the next one kid

it's funny how comfortalble i am with not sleeping
and surely i know it's healthy to be eating but,

i havent eaten a really meal in months
my mom never noticed, in fact, nobody does
this worlds full of some that make weird decisions,
then they mess up and we're just supposed to listen

i got alot of simple probblems, from scribbles to songs from bills to concerts,
but there's one problem , that always gets me
its how at the end of the day kids go hungry

and what abot how nobody listens to those who speak softly?
I wish most days I didnt drink my coffee but my problems never come off me, infact

theyre stained,
least with glue you just pick at it and usualy it goes away
i want to stay ...in a safe place,  I wish the world wasnt a paperchase, I wish I was bass, I wish I had no taste, to just hide and hide inside some days that will be my escape

i talked to you a few days ago
wanted to give you more compliments
you ended it on a sour note
and this may be it
but you like it that way, for its all you know
i could read you like a book but i'd be stepping on your toes
most think slow i suppose
but nope not me
im straight happy sober not trembling while the rest are settling

and if your off with him
you're wasting your day, your time
cuz what this is, is alot further than rhyme

sometimes i wonder how
people can say they know you
take me for example
do you know that my favorite
color is black because it reminds me of night
and that anything is possible?
do you know that i love the ocean because
it reminds me of the last day i spent with you?
do you know that i like to sit by my window at night,
and watch the stars and wonder what is going on in the world?
do you know that i have the biggest heart of anyone you will
ever meet, in your lifetime?
do you know that, most nights, i fall asleep on a notebook full
of my most personal thoughts and poems- and not pillows?
do you know that my handwriting is messy because i have too many words
strung together from 26 letters of the alphabet and no time to write carefully?
i do not understand is how
you can say you know me when you
aren't even aware of the little things
that make me myself
(1.57am | j.g.)