Call it what you want Surrender, retreat, apathy... Perhaps it's nothing more than total disgust And irreconcilable loneliness She wants to go where someone gives a ****, But no one does And the boys are better off without the image Of her fading slowly away in spirit To die while one is still alive is more heinous a thing than to drop out of a race that you don't believe in, and never signed up for in the first place Whatever the prize is, it can't be as good as the freedom of not having to go mad trying to protect oneself from the bitterness of their ugliness or the shallowness of their greed And walking away from them doesn't help either She's too ****** up to enjoy normalcy and too damaged to ever feel like she really belongs She'd rather start over, and leave the jackals to feed amongst themselves, and the insects to writhe about, blindly in the dark She might have felt differently, had they never lied to her about how much they loved...
Dust by dust and word by word You formed me from the walk-able earth.. Reforming the wind while turning it into breath The very first milestone beaten with the very first step.. The garden giving the eyes something to see Some type of solace born into simple majesty.. Making the ground good for walking The same way syllables are proving grounds for talking.. Everything new without the need to begin again And it’s all-overwhelming given the wealth to take in.. A brand new world
the sky was stained purple and green- ghastly hues- leaving me with a very unclean feeling unfurling on my palms. I wanted to wash it away- the colors were becoming one now (the kind of mysterious brown mothers pulled their children from peering at on mown lawns)- and have a canvas pure as the first hour snow falls over weary towns.
it was harder than I thought it would be. it involved scrubbing away the lights when aiming for the darks; too much muddled together to pull apart the best, beautiful parts, too much of a mess I should’ve noticed earlier when I picked up my paintbrush and decided to spread my existence out and out and out- too much to pull back now, anyways. too much but I don’t regret anything for I pulled out my soul and spun my paintbrush around in it collecting deep pigmented blood stains and tear drops and soft hugs.
only then did I begin to understand my twisted self- when brush touched world.
A little less Than a year ago I picture you: Your leg wrapped Around my torso And propped up By my hand; I have a purse, a drink, and you adorning my body Hanging onto me I am small You are smaller A cigarette Dangles From your Left fingertips Coffee and Champagne On your lips We both wear crowns Atop Our seemingly Stubborn smiles Happiness Will not Relent I have known You For so long Now Almost half Our little lives Tonight, I am proud Of you It is New Years You haven’t drank Too much You know This year Will be a good one Enough To tell me so Enough For me To believe In you Again Already Making changes, Setting promises Nothing is the same Since you Came home Two Augusts Ago Tonight, Had never before Fulfilled Its cliché promises But as of tomorrow We have our chalkboard Of rainbow colored erase marks At midnight, We get to Start Anew