she wears a cross around her neck
and spreads her legs.
she is still better than you
how does it feel?
In everything I do,
everywhere I go,
whatever I listen to,
I yearn to feel;
To smell the air, hear the sounds, witness my surroundings,
To have my heart - my soul - touched by all kinds of emotions,
To experience and be familiar with every sensation possible.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
is there a cateogory for people who don't love men and don't love women?
... like a label for someone who doesn't feel like they could be loved, completely by either? or want to be loved by either?
i don't even know
but that's me.
yup, that's it.
What if you had everything you ever wanted? A perfect life. Friends’ people dream of having. Excellent grades, brains and beauty. The parents everyone wants; nice, fun, caring. Not all in your business caring, just caring. Then, one day, you’re gone. At one moment you’re laughing and joking around with your friends and the next moment you’re empty. You laugh at the joke your friend just said but instead of the warmth laughter usually provides, you feel cold and empty. It feels as if a ghost has entered you and took over your actions but left you there to watch.
How wonderful to us !!! How do we miss those who do not feel :/
I wonder if you constantly check your phone to see if I had texted you.
I wonder if you lay in bed in the dark thinking about me.
I wonder if you regret saying something to me because you thought it sounded stupid.
I wonder if you ever feel like you are annoying me so you don’t talk to me for a day.
I wonder if you care about me.
I wonder if you would miss me if I disappeared.
I wonder if you do these things.
I really do.
Bathroom pics are cool and all;
Taken with your Mother’s I-Phone
With make up, vulgar and
A walking library
With encyclopedia brain
Willing to show everything
To make yourself
she’s pregnant with a boy
the size of a bean
with a heartbeat so loud that I’m affected by it.
I honestly feel like this child is mine
which crumples me
and ruins me
because if a 16 year old girl thought my baby was hers,
I would tell her that she might as well be infertile
But I’d apologize later.
But that baby will be the death of me
maybe he’ll teach me how to love
I won’t sink anymore
She was breathing in the drastic darkness
as it gulped us down.
I’m in a good place
Wandering the passenger seat for someone’s noisy sobs
before finding them in her own throat.
I’m so tired
So she flicked on the lighter
and drew it toward her eyes
until her face began to melt behind the flame’s watery haze.
I turned my head and
the cigarette I had seen tottering
between her teeth had become a rolled up
page of Silverstein with Where the Sidewalk Ends
curling slowly toward her lips.
Father called again.
I listened to the message, as usual.
Listened to the scratching of knives on plates. Listened. Listened.
It is noise.
The words, the words you have owed me
for twenty three years, father: they do not come. What I want is for you to be sorry.
For the epiphany to f
upon you like rock.
How could you, for all these years, feel alive,
when so many nights I waited,
crying, at the door,
my young hands clawing at the glass?
You lied, you stole from me, by omission.
And now, I wander from man to man,
filling your bitter shoes with dissapointments,
tar-black, and weather-worn.
Daddy, why must they all love like you love?
Why must they all stink of you
and wear your clothes and talk
as though they are gods?
I survived you, but evil, too, has a thousand faces.
It is you, isn't it? Underneath all those masks?
It is you,
with your bloodshot eyes.
It is you.