The moon, it calls me,  
I wake inside of a dream.
My desires in reach.

-SLuR

It's in those slow and lazy moments
Spent inside my head
Scavenging for dopamine
That I find you instead

Scattered into tiny bits
Stashed deep within my mind
The pieces lay from yesterday
As if left for me to find

Shattered
broken to bits
I tried to clean up
but I sliced my skin

Scattered
into the fray
I pushed them out
'til they all washed away

Weathered
time's funny like that
the edges have softened
and the waves washed them back

Remembered
as I walk along
colorful and harmless
pressed to my palm

had I been older I'd've
probably'd've recognized
the hell in your eyes
but I mistook it for love

had I been wiser then
as I ought to have been
I'd've known the sin
of what'd been done

Eating my beyond burger with a fork and knife,
drag race in the background,
my Samantha doll by my side.
This isn't loneliness anymore.
This is just life now.

I'm not very good with words anymore,
maybe I never was.
So little has changed and yet everything has.
I still long for love.
I still want to be wanted.
That might never change.

Yet now this lonely world is one I've come to accept,
come to love.
I may be my only friend here,
but that's one more than last year.

Nothing I create is good,
but I'm learning to create anyway.
I'm learning to share my bad art,
at least it's art.
Right?

I dream of slitting the throat of the dog next door.
Someone outta shut him up.
I used to think that was an evil thought,
now I know there's no such thing.

I turn 21 in 2 days.
Math. Yuck.
I'm old,
getting older every second.
Whatever.
I will grow into this skin,
I'm sure of it.
Maybe.

I'm grateful.
More than anything I am grateful for it all.
The pain,
the pleasure,
the guilt,
the anger.

Pills,
family,
friends,
dolls.

No one reads these except me.
So this one is for her.
For you.
Anne,
my love,
my villain,
my biggest fear.

May this year be kind to you,
may you be kind to it.
May you listen to your spirit guides,
may you accept what you never could.

Growth is sticky and wet,
Knowledge is thick and grey.
May you be the light and the darkness,
the cut and the band aid.

More than anything,
be okay.
You're gross,
in a sort of beautiful way.
May you be okay with that.
Truly.




Bad art is still art.
Right?
I think so.
For now.