Stupid ugly acting peoplewant me to do everything for them heres what I have to say
Shut up* and let me be
All of yall need to flee
Talk and talk and talk
all day long
shut up and go away
Im Not rachet or *****
And yes im nerdy gerdy
I dont care what you've gt to say
Shut up and go away

How I could have know if I reached out now. right, now im hulu watching bleach right now. Lites Cig while I write this down, for the ink. I see things from your perspective. The water, showing our reflection. Ironically? It falls behind me. Word to the six, whats that Toronto weather like? Im a slide you my text now number, so you can advice. Love your smile, that's a wow. Lets add in the pow. Its Mr. 550 you I gee ma. The only woman that bring the desert to the sea ma. uh, idk you birthday from now you libra. So rachet that's a aquarius . If life fair is, well see. Im tryin to see paris, you.

...
….You make me want to return into the shell I already broke out of.
I hope you
Your
You’re happy
Because it is now a cave. From which I will spend eternity.
Congrats. Congrats on showing me the world for exactly what it is.
A place. A dwelling.
A dwelling for those who talk against the slow, the weak.
THE RECOVERING. THOSE WHO WISH TO GROW.
Those who have nothing but good intentions. Intentions not for themselves but. For Others.
Congrats.
My soul is as rachet. As hated. As Hatred.
BECAUSE OF all things that came: Your gossip. Your rumors. Your hidden enigma….*ehem agenda
…
Got to me. Broke me in front of reality.
Naked and bounded by nothing but deceit. Discord.
I call on Shiva...but now..
...Jesus.
Please. Show me the broken way. The broken way back to glory.
If nails strike me down. I’m willing.
I’m willing go further. Not to death. But to suffer. But not suffice or succumb.
Because I'm giving in again. I’m giving in...again.
“And I’m just holding on for tonight, On for tonight, On for tonight”
“Help me, I’m holding on for dear....”
LIFE

And I decided
LONG AGO
That I wont.
***** THEM

!!!
…. “I’m gonna swing, from the chandelier, the chandelier”
“I wanna fly”
“Like a bird in the night”
Watch my tears as they fall
Make rain a ghost of
A proof
Of the broken
Broken glass, broken mirrors
Broken bones out of
Words
syntax.....
...

So rachet
So messy
Dont tap me
I'm shady.
You tap out
I'm crazy
I'm in
I'm covered
Dont steady me
I'll cheat you
I'll eat you
Don't doubt me
I'll prove you
I'm on you,
Your in me
Dont leave me
I'll find you
I'm bestest
I'm with you
I'm lady
I'm ******
Dont test me,
I'll fill you,
With my fist *****.

Her lips,
Are mine.
Her eyes,
Sublime.

I think of her all the time.

She listens to my voice,
Her smile,
So nice.

But to my surprise,
She laughs with another.

My heart
Is torn,
Pushed down in the gutter.

Sharing happiness with others,
Is beyond my advice.
As this rachet jealousy
Is burning like spice.

But one can only learn,
For she knows I am right.

Before I left to walk to your music show in the courtyard,
I slipped the knife my boyfriend gave me into my dress pocket.
It was heavy enough to weigh down half the outfit, and
radiated something putrid or dissonant in that crowd
of flowers and sandals and paint and honey-chamomile
for the entire duration, but
I needed a reminder of who I am now.

Being near you at all was already a betrayal of myself
because now I guess I'm playing his type: the ******* girl--
the stereotype-smasher-badass-***** girl--
calling her a "girl" isn't even fair
because she chopped enough of her hair
to be Wyoming's worst "******" nightmare,
and she wears work boots and flannels and scars,
(and sweatshirts to cover my secret scrawny arms--)
She’s a piece-of-machinery girl,
a rachet-and-wrenched-myself-together girl,

and it took so ******* long for me to forge a metal exoskeleton
hard enough to smother this stupid gushy heart.

Because a heart only compromises the real **** I have to do in the real world--
not your fantasy world where no one has a job but
slurping your excess passion alone is somehow enough to sustain, and
the men sweep bundles of wild violets-- shooting straight out of the New York City pavement--
into their hands as gifts, and
their women smile and flip their Pantene-commercial hair in slow-motion, and
together the lovers paint poetry onto each other's chests in the dark, and
your long-expired promise of that love-- of your dream--
that you had me believing
still plunges deeper into my stomach than I ever planned it to and it feels like a white-hot
knife splitting me open from throat to bladder--

You came out to hug me when the show ended.
I walked home crying a hydraulic expulsion of the final remnants
of my old, foreclosed heart.
Then he was right there waiting for me at home, and it was so easy
to pretend.