people **** the life out of me

i'm like a sugary cereal that they eat and eat and eat
but they never get full

i am so tired by the end of the day
i just want to go home
take off all the clothes i wore for them
take off all the pretension
all the make up
and lie on the floor

are you enough to keep me alive?

i suppose being infectious and wanted is a blessing
it has been a very long time since i have felt unwanted
probably way back into my awkward teenaged years
and now everyone wants me
but i don't want myself

are you enough to keep me alive?

the one person who i know cares about me
got scared when i put a nerf gun under my chin
and pulled the trigger
i just wanted to feel the air
test it out
see if the barrel of a gun belonged there
i have never told her that i didn't want to live
but i think she knows
the only reason i'm here
is for the people around me

are you enough to keep me alive?

i am fascinated with the unruliness of some girls' hair
the plainness around their eyes
the strangeness of their earrings
the smell of the cigarettes inbetween their fingers

i wonder at their worn brown boots
and slightly crooked teeth
and dry lips
and i think
they are the most beautiful things
i have ever seen
almost untouched
by things that beat me down
like the image of victora's secret underwear
and the world's first super model telling girls their thighs are too fat

i want to be one of those slightly unkempt women
they're like uncaged animals
i want to have what they have

but i am a product of this society
it is too late for me
i am destined to be unsatisfied
forever
i will always hate something about me
even if i don't mean to
i will always wear too much make up
and too low shirts
and preach the mainstream way of life

my fingernails will never be *****.
i will always be merely pretty
i wish i was
interesting

your eyes
resigned and dark
like they've never seen a minute of sleep
(i mean this in the best way)
sometimes i catch myself staring and look away
because i am afraid that
if i gaze for too long
i'll never be able to stop
(please don't be offended)
and your tired voice
as though you feel you have to speak softly
or it will shatter this fragile thing
between us
sometimes i don't understand your murmurs
but they're beautiful all the same
and i don't ask you to repeat yourself
because i don't want you to think
you should ever speak louder
you are
the kind of sleepy   
i wouldn't mind listening to
(or looking at)
(or kissing)
for the rest of forever
your eyes say 'let me sleep'
and the timbre of your voice
replies 'if only i could'
but your words persist
fueled only by
your unrelenting interest
in
me

i find the fact that you edit out little mistakes in typing hilarious.
you get high out of your mind and say the weirdest ******* **** i've ever seen
all over facebook
but it is ******* grammatically correct

brian,
you complain all over the internet
about how in love with me you are
you whine to anyone who will listen
but you are so unpredictable
irritable
******* out of your mind
that i can't love you
you're like loving a flippant breeze
and i don't have time for you

get off your marijuana horse

I've learned that happiness
cannot be found in the form of a little
purple capsule.
I've learned that Pisa will have to wait until next time.
I've learned that the third mushroom
held in my sweaty palm was not as
big a deal compared to the other two opening my mind.
I've learned that a part of me
died that night where we ****** in a
room with no furniture.
I've learned that life is work and that
the molotov cocktail of Dubrah and eay mac
that came spewing from me left an orange tang
upon the floor.
I've learned that pain is better than numbness
and that jabbing a sewing needle repeatedly in my arm
was an educated decision.
Most importantly I've learned that together we are better than alone.