this one ***** that one
and that one ***** this one
and this one ***** this one
and that one ***** that one

and this one is jealous of this one
for ******* that one
and that one is jealous of that one
for ******* this one

and all these this’ and thats
have weird fetishes
with animals
or the dead
or *******
or *******
or farting
or feet
or dolls
or multiples
and some sickos even
involve their own children

and there’s not a second
that goes by that there’s not
somebody out there *******

and sometimes it’s quicker
than an antelope
and sometimes it takes
forever and goes nowhere
like playing a game of
Monopoly

but with time and gravity
they start to sag, start to grey
and become scaly
until this one’s neck
starts looking like
that one’s *******
and that one’s *******
starts looking like
David’s rock slinger
that killed Goliath
until they’re used up like
a Kleenex tissue, thrown
away and then no one
wants them anymore

and a fresh crop of frustrated
this’ and thats come along
and start the whole process
over again
and some have moles
and some have scars
and some have birthmarks
and regardless of race, age, ***
if you’re fat, ****, short, diseased

they’re all people out there
******* each other

as the bed squeaks
as the car rocks
as the boots knock
as the dumpster rattles
as the knees face the sky

we’re all just ******* our way
through life because what
else is there better to do
while we wait?

I don´t think you understand
understand how important you are to me
You say it doesn´t matter
it´t not that important

but it is.

Because I feel like we are drifting apart
like I don´t even know you anymore
we used to be so close
like yin and yang
you were the better part of me

in my darkest times you were there
you would show me the light to fight for
you were the light to fight for
you are.

I am scared
Because that feels like it is in the past
I miss you.

I miss the nights we talked about the world
and the ones we didn´t talk at all
because it wasn´t necessary
because we didn´t need words

I miss your laugh
and how we danced to our favorite songs
in our home
in calella
just everywhere

Because thats how we are
we didn´t care what the world would think
because we didn´t need them
we had us

I miss the way you made me smile
the way we couldn´t stop laughing
or crying

I miss you here
because without you it´s so empty
I hope you miss me too.

Please come back.

I'm writing this just cause I wanted to see that title again.
I'm going to be ******* alone, but I already was.
I think I was hoping to get amnesia so I wouldn't remember the things that changed our relationship forever.

You are not a cloud
but you dropped me
like rain. And you
give me shade,
but not from the sun.
Hide away all the blue
in my life and try to strike
me like lightning
when you're really just
throwing sticks. The stones
are for the thunder mouth
words thrown downhill
to roll bigger blunts for syphs
I'm not invited to.
If I get caught doing a rain dance
the clouds will come. They will
still come when I do my pain dance
because they don't know the difference.

As to why I never cut my hands,
it was already painful to write.
So painful I carry the pen in my hand
and am already shaking.
I get paper cuts from too much reading,
but with how I used to cut
my fingers would end up scarred.
I never cut my hands
because I am too busy painting my nails
or putting on makeup so I can
binge drink at the next party.
There are so many ways I could hurt myself
but I would never hurt my hands
because then I would feel the rough edges
of the scars and scabs as I tough myself
trying to get myself to fall asleep.
I don't cut my hand.
My hands aren't worthy of the pain
I have and do inflict upon myself.
Somehow they deserve better.
I can't justify the logic, but I live it.
I never thought of it.
But that last memory, slip of the knife, got me thinking
and feeling the cuts and hurt,
I still crave because my blood
is the creative juice that I am missing.
In my writing
and my acting
and my being.
Blood.
To remind me that I am breathing
that I am living
and have things to fall back on
other than plastic feelings.
I know I am only temporary
and always growing.
I hope I can forget my feelings.
Or rather feeling-memories making
me forget that I am worthy.
And perfect.
And oh-so temporary.

Emotions
While the world turns world day by day I'm  never reaping the benefits of today and always keeping the dogs at bay but never finding the needle in my hay.
Who is supposed to stop this madness this never ending supply of badness this unethical devouring of my sadness this always leaving the bar ladless?
I don't get to choose who I get to bruise or who gets to accuse me of losing my cool and filling the cup way too full and making myself look like a fool, always looking for a back door slightly ajar and from afar I see it, the escape, the oh so very jake  ending and if I can just make it over this lake, this never ending water of raw emotion, the ever reaching rivers of depression, my own floodgates pouring out to meet out in the middle and DROWWWWWWWWWN MEEEEEEEEE but I can just reach I see the waters touch the beach and I know that I'll be safe I just have to make it to the bank and I do, and the waters start receding, I've never felt more fleeting I open up in greeting as I wave my hands in meeting and it all makes sense, I can finally see the end. I can let myself relax. I don't have to rush to the finish line, I don't have to be oh so Devine, I don't have to know how to define all of these feelings, I can just tell them all I'm fine.

I am going to be stronger and wiser to myself this time.
You weren't there in my hardest time,
And you left me at a time when I too needed somebody the most,
I guess that somebody just wasn't you.
So hear me out while I scream it to your face
while you call me selfish and inhuman,
You weren't there when I needed you the most.
Now I am not obliged to get back to square one
and loose myself again in the process to be good to you,
because I am. too busy being good to myself