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Jan 2016
[ Six-feet deep; I'm at the edge of collapse and still losing sleep, with lapse in judgements, and promises I can't keep. I'm sorry to cause all this worry, but I'm in such a hurry to get somewhere I can bear; maybe I'm just self-centred, I mean, God knows I'm ill-tempered; I'm a bomb needing to be diffused; and I'm tired of being constantly refused. Pull out the pin and let me reveal the tiger within. Crush me underfoot, like dry autumn leaves; grace in their falling; beauty even in dying. I will not scream in protest as you crack my poor bones. (This is the warmest I've felt in years.) // You glossed me over in varnish, a sparkling veneer to fill my cracks and mend my chips. A second coast of kerosene, you toss the match and I'm up in flames; snap, crackle, pop my bones in the heat 'til nothing remains. I'm addicted to the concept of living, so it's too bad that my own existence is a lie. Leave me at your back door endlessly wishing, wanting, craving after you've kicked off your dancing shoes; this invitation was long overdue. Here's my RSVP to an illicit rendez-vous, party of two, just me and you. ]




[ Drag these razorblades over my arms, creating chasms across the landscape of my body; skin and sin. These canyons fill with red, rivers. Fireworks explode in my head like an epilepsy-inducing lightshow. An absence of pain in the face of a crimson rain; a stone-cold numbness. A cold breeze rolls in off the shore and I'm not sure what I'm livin' for anymore. ]




[ Was it this way all the time?

I'm a degenerate, a ***, filth-slicked scab.

Can't stop picking; let me see bone and muscle.

OH GOD

i want to ***** forever

exist??? why...

HURT AND FIREWORKS --

points of light and reason in an endless sea of black.

how do you job?

How do you house.

im sorry mom. i tried, i lost.

i tried. i lost.

i tried. i lost.

i tried. i lost. credit balance: empty. insert more tokens?

****, i'm all sharp broken edges; ripped old "fragile: glass" stickers

look, but dont touch, lest I sink into your pores and make you just as spiteful, bitter, broken like me.

go ahead, drop-kick me across the Milky Way. im misery personified contagious outrageous

WHO MADE FAIRY TALE ENDINGS?

WORK. BUY. CONSUME. DIE.

you either die young and free, or you live long enough to just become another gear in the machine.

i'm so ****** tired. so ****** tired. (I feel you Atlas.)
cassiopeia miel
Written by
cassiopeia miel  the Milky Way
(the Milky Way)   
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