What is the point
I care
Too much
Too deeply
I have a purpose
And then I don’t
I look in the mirror
And all I see
Is a girl who grew up and out of a fantasy
She’s pale and detached
Plump yet broken
She can’t tell her age anymore
She’s just ancient
Half expecting her face to crack and melt into the tile

Part of her is alive
and full of rage
Passion

The other is trapped in a cage
A dungeon of fear
Pleading for the easy way out
It wants to scuttle into the shadows
dissipate into the forgotten
Constantly these two creatures
are flicked on
and off
On
And off
A light show of indecisive ideas serenading a seizure to creep forth and calm the losing battle
but then...
The power goes out
....
And whats left?

Numb and chilled on ice
I splice my own legacy for identification... My mannerisms mated early and crafted a cataclysmic contradiction
Impatient to erupt
Archaic down to the marrow
I whither in Seattle’s freeze of
Grey detachment

We already know she be bobbin fur some Baskin Robbin's
coppin,
floppin,
n nockin fur a cockin.

Perfect awkwardness
makes me laugh
then cry
or was it the other way around?

Cigarette smoke
Wheels no spokes
Board rollin down alleys
Late night skate
Let me escape
The life I never planned

Never on time
You best lower your expectations

Snortin molly in the bathroom
Chuggin ***** in the hall
I could be anywhere at all
But I’d still crawl
back to the clutches of dependence
I forfeited life's race in the first lap
Yet I'm still trapped
Coughing up blood
I strive for nothing

I don't want to feel
I long to be free
From society
Our culture has maxed out
So now everyone wants to shout
for help because what the world wants
Is unrealistic
We try to overdose
And become comatose
To drop all worries of material success
Those
Stacks on stacks on stacks
Racks on racks on racks
We forget
its just paper
Not what defines us

The rest is up to the people
To rise about the atmosphere
Of atoms and mold supportive molecules from the elements we're presented
Not corrected like a sent typo
To your mom
Or boss
Control
Is unattainable
Fathom the slack of a slacker
Loosen your ropes
And walk the plank
With no hopes of disaster nor triumph
Determined
To just be

So tired yet so awake
I sit at the edge of an ellipsis
crimping the charred innards of my tattered soul
to make a masterpiece of gore
and internal war.
over the years of self loathing
I finally love myself
but getting ****** up feels ****** perfect
and watching this world unfold anew with each hit
or shot
rocks my mind
unkind but exemplary in it's own fortitude
to prevail my own veils
aside they're cast and fumbled with
as thick smiles seed
and the pace is set for the evening
I can't help but think that leaving
could do me good
but who backs out before the last shot?
who leaves before the deafening toll of midnight?
Cinderella's umbrella of security
and purity
is at jeopardy
and with great haste she wastes away the good looks
for late night *****
and nicotine
forgetting to clean
her closet of supreme validity on
the functioning teen
trying not to be mean,
but completely obscene in gestures
with the barbie's manufacturers groping for caspers
in the utopian disasters of the girl they forged
many decades back, but lost track
of the track that played that summer night
in the moonlight of immaculate humor and love
above all the oozing essence that manifested
now tested, for virtual ******
your cerebellum will tellem the positive
credo
that we all know is hooked on the days drift wood with
byzantine benzodiazapines to guide her haunted spirit
till
the cracks turn to crevasses and prehistoric protons mate with electrons
in the vat that is abrewing to plot the lies
watch the skies fade to grey as it may
be about time for the ecliptic rhymes to find
reconciliation
in the bladed grains of mortality and sigh
for being high in this lowered juncture
of subsisting future
buys you time to mull over such a daydream
as your last breath

I'm not dedicated
I'm not hardworking
I'm not in a relationship
I have no special talents I'm phenomenal at
I'm average
Below average
Unsuccessful
Clueless
Wasteful
Worth nothing
A daisy in a field of roses
Ha
Guess that makes me one in a million
I'll peer up at the sky and grow older
Dawn till dusk
At least I'm doing something.
Pull my petals like I have the answers
No love child
On to the next flower
Drop me down uprooted and disappointed
I'll slink back
Like a writhing sloth
Or crushed insect
This life is penetrating me too deep and pleasuring my soul all in one ******
I don't know who to trust
But the candle light in this darkness
Guides me
Back to you
Death can't touch me
And I can lie
Next to him day in and night out
Kidding my self that it will or won't work
But I keep flirting
Catching his kisses with my lips each minute sliding close
On the edge of the bed giddy with excitement
Shaking
Screaming
Eyes wide, mouth open, love
Too precious to lose
Too dangerous to keep
Rotting at your side I'll be indecisive
Zombies are in now anyways
Walk me dead,
Around the block,
cigarette in tow
Thriller thrills on this joy ride to hell
We can scare some kids!
Death and i
Are married.

The divorce papers are in the fire place.

Signed- happiness

Strangers are my best friends
Even feelings are for even people... Know anyone who matches that description?
I'd like to cuddle away the problems
**** someone while crying
No
I don't think so
I want to be felt and loved. And craved like fluent chocolate gushing
Down the corners of my mouth
Lapped up by your tongue
I wish

Scratched letters over a blank canvas
Make for messages of clarity.
Nails on a chalk board every time you etch, but its the promise of the next word that makes it tolerable.
These pick-up-stick letters are angry and depressed but fit together like bread on butter. creamy song lyrics you scribble but there’s no tune.
An obstacle foreseen and ignored.
The rhythm of voice catches, flame to syncopation, and feebly you grow with your words to become the song

Sung now, in churches
Do they realize from whence their hymns originated? Deep down, long ago, in the valley of hidden emotional pangs
Your envy was too rich for your body
Yet big enough for this... congregational ritual.
Heart tears are beautiful for creation
To existence
They're treacherous

I smile and admire my work
Blow a smoke ring over the wet words not quite solidified on the page
Smudge
Better with a flaw
I don't smoke
Im a social stress smoker
Self diagnosed
Self medicated
So you see I'm an aspiring artist
Although most of my works are ****, I don't really give up.
Its just this part of me I can’t always explain
That happens
They’re my impulse of choice
A painting, a drawing, a poem, a song, dance, all music (save country).
Even little quick thoughts or plans I have are peaceful to record.
It's times like this night where I should really be fast in my REM cycle, dreaming of crazy scenarios to **** up and uncover a truth upon my waking.
But I'm on my notes
Typing away the babble of nonsense thats streaming on demand
Tonight
I'll exit with a line
Or so, I'm not sure
Breathe in the plant, puff out love hits and over expose the motion picture. Each passing present memory is precious to the cycle I don't really want to define.
But I'm in love with its inhabitants I can't get over them
And each day is another episode
But... Is this a sitcom, or a documentary?
These words, are time filled

Cold feet shouldn't be a thing.

Its all just words
No faces
No looks, no clothes, no smell
A simple connection

It could have been anybody

But it wasn’t

It started off as a hobby
Something to keep boredom at bay

By now you’re junior olympics... At least

It can be as flawless as beach glass

Or jagged
and farspread like the trees still dieing

I never know what to expect
Excitement
Misunderstanding
Seriousness
Interest
Laughter
­Understanding
Awkwardness
Distracted
An idea
... Clearly I could continue

It’s like my little escape hole
A therapist that Actually understands and wants to
We just click
Alined by the sun
Some would say

But I dunno if that’s true
All I know is what I feel

Should I not feel what I feel?
Do I feel what I feel?
Is what I feel real?
Or is it fake

Is it a lie?

Or should I make it one

I don’t know what’s best
How can I

I’m new at this remember

All I know are the words of the known
Who are unknown to me in one world
And an empty chair in the next

I sit down and wait patiently

Until it’s finally my turn, here is where I’ll sit

There is no shame finding comfort in the little things the chair offers
Its smooth silky surface
The wine stain down the middle
the dots that resemble a smile in the corner

You don’t forget what you know so well
You open up your palm

A baby snake inside

He doesn't take it
He doesn't **** it on the spot
He doesn't grimace with disgust
He doesn't burst out in laughter

He picks it up
and cradles it in his hands

And sets it free

Back into the world where it belongs

And then he gives you a dalia

You take it and tuck it behind his ear as something to be admired

He blushes

He needs you too
Maybe

But its real
Almost too real

So you push it away
It’s impossible
It might not even be close to what you think it might be

Forget

And stay silent

Hey

We start again

A haha here
A smiley face too

Climbing up the uncertain mountain that has never been climbed before

The chance of falling high
But you like the chase

And for now
It’s enough

You don’t really care if you summit anyway

A possible “when”
always dangling
Inside the clouds

I guess I'm a coward

Too strong

Is there such a thing?

nobody knows
the circumstances aren't high enough

I wish I could tell somebody

why isn't someone there?
even in the mirror form, or a puddle, or a window
I'm absent

Or is it late?
a habit I picked up from my mother

will I ever arrive?

that's the question isn't it
and no one knows
the answer

I'm stuck in the limbo of choice

so why don't I do it?

walk away from it all

well I'm scared
that no one would catch me... before I fall