See that little match-stick,
see that candle there?
See that hard-worn photograph
taken for a year?
Take them punches, boxer-girl!
Much to your chagrin,
it comes back in equal part -
hard and deep within.

Consider bonds between us heat.
And fuel, the time we spent
sleeping close in tousled sheets -
a sky towards us, bent:
gray and cloudless, quick and fleet.
Candle-flame is meant.
to take those memories, and to eat
the message that you sent.

Photo attachment 1: You, him - bottle of Cointreau. Bite marks on your thigh like only I should have left! Grass (both types), a camera. Wrestling. ******. ***.
Photo attachment 2: You, him: carousels, cloven-footed balloon-man (whistling high and wee). Hot dogs. Ocean. Wrestling. ******, ***.
Photo attachment 3: There was something about a penguin… and there was cake involved. Polarbears - must have been a zoo. Causing me to mope at the keyboard: wrestling, ******. ***.
Photo attachment 4: It’s really just *** now.
Photo attachment 5: Please stop.

Shouldn’t be so callous:
that password is personal.
I shouldn’t really have it,
Well, this is what I get for exploring the caverns of iniquity
(that’s slang for your hard-drive),
***** little …
I can’t … cuss you out.

All photographs marked 10/18/07 for devastation.

Now, this thing has ended:
sad, though brief and gleeful.
We were consumed by happiness, never sorrowful
and nothing meaningful;
everything beautiful, nothing painful.
Princess, that work was masterful -
breaking that, making great things hurtful.
But worse still?
I can’t hate you.

I want to wear the ocean
and bring waves everywhere I go.
I want to sleep on the clouds
and wake up sunkissed.
I want to grow leaves
and flowers
and fruits,
and shed magnificently in the fall
and blossom sweetly in the spring
and be ripe and fresh in the summer.
I want to befriend whales
and polarbears
and eagles
and be wild and free.
I want to drink the milky way
and glow from the inside.
I want to powder my face with stars
and take people's breaths away.
I want to dye my hair with rainbow
and never have bad hair days again.
I want a voice that sounds like birdcall
and sea breeze
and rain shower,
and sing without ever needing words.
I want to embrace the Earth
and love it like Mother Nature.
I want to die like the moon
and make way for a bright new day.

I sit and pluck hairs from my beard.
One by one thinning it out.
Replaying old memories in my head.
Dragging myself further to the point  where no matter how drunk I get the sadness is still there.
Hating myself more than I ever have before.
Questioning why I am still breathing when id be better off dead.
Maybe I want to hurt more than I want to die.
I deserve to suffer.
Its hard to be a monster that isn't heartless.
Watching myself hurt those i care about.
What the **** is wrong with me?!
Every single time I encounter happiness I break it.
Like a idiot,a comitmentphobe.
Destroying what could be beautiful silences by having existential breakdowns.
Having to talk through every issue when it could just be a non issue.
I know the past is the past so why don't I leave this behavior there instead of carrying it into every new moment.
There is a reason you don't keep polarbears as pets so why do I hold on to the fool in my head.
God I ******* hate myself.