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Sigilism Aug 2011
Some days I can’t decide whether to be a modern day poet or not. Sometimes I wake up thinking “butterflies.”, And I decide that maybe I’d like to be an accountant instead, forcing number after number into some poor overstuffed calculator all day. I’d be the talk of the office, “Have you seen that ****** over in cell #2?”, “The one who just sits there looking at her calculator all day?”, “Yes! She just sits around muttering ‘When’s it going to explode? When’s it going to explode’?”
Then some other poor sucker’s calculator would explode and he’d be horribly scarred, and they’d all realize that I was sane after all. But of course by then I’d be off in some horrible asylum by then, having my frontal lobe chopped off.  So maybe I wouldn’t make a good accountant. There’s no money in poetry though, that’s my problem, you see? If I could sit around typing lyrical nonsense all day and actually be paid for it, well that’d be cool. However if that ever did happen, chances are I’d be off in some distance land universe writing the holy bible for a bunch of seven fingered goats or something.  I don’t like goats. Back to butterflies? No… I have nothing to say about those either. The truth is, although I’d love to be one of the inspiring people who goes around raving about the evils of money, im more liky to be the one chasing after the guy giving that lecture yelling, “WELL IF YOU DON’T WANT IT, THEN GIVE IT TO ME!”
And then I’d store it in some dark corner in my bedroom as I lay on my bed and wrote until I passed out from some disease called life that you can’t put off living just to write in that little hidey-hole in your mind.
Sigilism Aug 2011
Chocolate rabbits from hell

My feet hurt from stepping
On chocolate eggs
And I have to look at my mom
As she watches me
Push the basket of chocolate aside
as i sit down for breakfast

and I have to ignore
the two brats
beside me
gorging themselves
on
little
round
pieces of
fat.

I remember last year
Jelly beans, crème eggs,
All that **** that I now
refuse to cram in my mouth;
Im not adding to
the reserves of pudge on my
hips/thighs/arms/stomache
inside and outside
everyday i
bloat

mirrors
****

I can hear sloshing in their stomaches
As they stand
Hockey practice, hockey practice
They’re carried off by chauffers,
My parents

For the rest of the day
Ill be alone

Last year that would have meant
A choco-fest, and I miss it a bit
As the hunger that no one will notice
begins to set in
rough draft
Sigilism Aug 2011
Ha! You
*******,
I deleted my Facebook because
I never gave a ****,
and neither do you.
Sigilism Aug 2011
so yesterday. they
            told me about
this thing-
                  -ADD. it's
-weird.
-people who have it    are weird
                          they told me
i've got it;
i'm weird.
i don't feel weird
or at least-           i didnt
                             'till yesterday
but i'm the same as i've always been


it's    complicated. i'm not
     hyper
(or stupid or lazylike i've always though i was)
it's called 'inatten
                                 tive' adhd

thetruthisI'mnormal
but i forget stuff
but i can't concentrate
but i can't study
and i zone out
and i daydream
                             and it all sounds so normal.

but i wish
   it were a matter of
                        willpower
             and getting organised
and getting my ****
                                  together
like my parents tell me to.

wish i could convince them
    it's not some alien religion
i'm not stupid or lazy or- "what the hell is
adhd. that's
                                just an excuse
getyourshit                                              together."

yeah, alright. i know.
i try.
Sigilism Aug 2011
I guess I just want to be the sane one, the normal one, the one who’s always in control and you can count on. I want to be the fun one, the entertaining one, the one that can always make you laugh. I want to be the honest one, the vulnerable one, the one that you want to be there for. These stupid ******* contrasting personalities, I want to be them all.
Sigilism Aug 2011
The ache she felt in her jaw
Continued to throb
even after she thought
“this is the point when
I should be too
exhausted to feel
anything
anymore.”

turned out
that particular point was
a lot farther away than
she’d thought.

But
She found it,
alright
not particularly clever or cheerful
Sigilism Aug 2011
it helped the pain but
woulden't hide the bruises
no matter how she
begged

makeup coulden't cover it so
she skipped class, remembering
last time she had to
explain the bruises
on her face
away

failed the class because
she coulden't scream
or the neigbors would know
and it happened again and
again

grew up
like a sick and sadistic
broken bone
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