you have good days
                         and bad ones
                             mostly bad ones it feels like
  
     a good day:twisted smile
                      dimples
                      bright eyes crinkle
                      golden hairs
                      i want to touch you
     but a bad day
curved over your long limbs as you stare blankly down and hunch over and you look so dead as you frown and your eyes are dead and you are dead.you’re ******* dead.a dead angry deer run over in the street.its eyes are still open and it stares out with hatred and resentment,it isn’t natural why are you so dead

I still want to touch you

A happy thought:
cold air against my bare skin

sweet boy with full lips and wide eyes
baby,what can i do for you tonight?
this lonely winter thursday night
let me call you and hear
your sweet
moans

I am what I do.

sweet girl,
blonde hair and eyes swirling
danced into my life with her body ablaze
“””””dance with me”””””””

enchanting.
                     but
                               distracting
broken girl,
drugged up and pleading with me
you are not what you do.

you play.pretend.lie.
I work. I thought you understood. but you wanted me to play.
I don’t play. Not anymore.

Leave me alone with my work.
I am what I do.

Something should really be said about the power
of holding something beautiful in your hands. Because
I won’t forget my little glass angel,
or that golden locket,
or my hand stroking your face.

Crystal clear on that winter night when
you kissed me and
our bodies
worked together
perfectly.

there is nothing worse
than walking down the hall
and seeing a sea of blank faces

                                           me
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what’s wrong, my brothers and sisters?
why are you lost?
who are you?
look at me
LOOK.i am here.
            .i am lonely too

The chicken baked in the oven
but when i took it out the flesh was
pale
         and
                  ******.disgusting
.the raw smell sickens.
.poor ****** chickens.

did i do something
            wrong???????

Such dread! I hear my mother’s voice and I
I’m sorry
I feel off
the sound of footsteps
                 drawing
                                nearer
                                           don’t come in
her voice pierces right to my fear
can’t stand it
stop

His sweet lips were frenzied and panicked as he
Kissed me
Before throwing himself back into the seat--
He didn’t mean to do it.
His breath comes in short gasps as my
fingers work inside him
My trembling hands caress the curve of his face
His blonde hair is too soft and his body jerks as he pants
I whisper in his ear
He begs me for more
"Please...."
Those smooth pink lips will be the death of me

He lied to me all night long with those wide dancing green eyes
(((They’re ******* shut now in pleasure and pain)))
And we drove down those winding roads in the dead of night and his voice dripped with sarcasm
((Like how he’s now dripping with ***))
And all he gave me was his rock-hard exterior
(Now he’s giving me his rock hard ****)

Nice ******* try. You act like you’re so ******* superior and you treat everyone like **** and you tear me down and you think you’re so cool because you go to parties and drink your beer but I saw it in you and I knew what you wanted and I knew what I wanted and I put up with you and your abuse just so I could
Lay
You
Bare

Picked apart right in front of my eyes he’s
Beautiful
There’s no vengeance here.

The heart truly breaks when one
Realizes there’s no one there to break it

I am sad and loneliness rears its ugly
lack of head. A feeling that they are all a
gainst me. Feeling lost with the evil spirits
shrieking and screaming.

Come here. I am open: my heart is offered,
Red and up on a platter, begging,
pleading, wanting bad to be taken. Someone.
Please, it is all yours.

Very sad how eager am I to love when
always no one notices. All assume my
heart is very full and fulfilled because it’s
easier on them.

I am tired, babe and if you are asking
me to meet up tonight, well *******. Sophomore
year was long ago and the person I was
left with it. Tired.

I remember, though, (through the haze of ****) a
few sensations; hands were against the body
ruined tortured riddled with drugs and ***. It's
over. And better.

Babe it all depends on the steady hand of
Pretty Girl who draws all those horses next to
me in French; that time on an afternoon when
I was so happy.