I don't love you
and I never have

I love the idea of you
and how you look
and your taste in music
and everything

but I don't love you
and I'm sorry

Because I tried!
You have to know I did!
But I'm so sick of pretending

The wholeness seems almost attainable.

I carry around a glue stick
and a hammer
everywhere
I want to keep it together

I gave a girl my socks the other day

I take some of the things I've done
and collage them
try to piece them into
a cohesive me
but I can't figure
the correlation
there always
needs to be
a thread
a tie
between each experience
and the whole of
me

City bus
My ******* pulling
from the rumble and rattle
on top of the potholed pavement

Sideways moving
like a roll of film
Panorama life
yet only a picture
since it doesn't feel real

Detached
devoid
But the rattle pulls me back
I'm intact
I'm alive
The bus makes a crack

Am I an audience member in my own life?
Or is this dysphoria impermanent?

Tonight is the night that I accepted we aren't going anywhere and never will.

Thank god.

The *** holes made me feel alive today, something I hadn't felt for a little while. I've come to terms with the constant, dull, burning you leave in the back of my throat and in the pit of my stomach. My body isn't yours anymore.

I can't believe it took so long
in limbo
to find solace in
never but I'm not
surprised that you think I'm joking.

You're no longer an option, simple as that, and although you may have staked claim on a piece of my heart, I'm expanding Westernward, myself.

Don't manifest my destiny,
because I already know where it takes me
and that is away from you,
I'm sorry.

We both knew it would end in flames,
but I don't think you realize that I made it out of the fire. Charred, but out.

Please go and set another woman on fire. Let her feel the sadistic misery and, though redundant, let her learn to hate you as much as she hates herself.

Love is a silly thing.
But Hamlet, us women are not fickle.
We only are protecting ourselves
from the fire before
we lose our bodies in it
and start to believe that souls are separate.
I'm whole.

It's one of those days where punk songs make you cry

I am brimming with love and seduction, feeling the air on my skin as if it's water, like liquid surrounds me and reaches every bit of skin.

I feel everything, every breath reaching deep into my lungs, my neurons and their synapses, connecting my heart and my head, leading my soul.

I'm crying at a punk song, because it's so raw and so exactly how I feel, a mirror which tells you what to look like.

I want to be loud and exuberant. Just living, ****. I want to have all the air in the world, then explode.

If you had a chance, you just blew it.
What the **** were you thinking?
I can't even begin to place myself inside your head,
like I have so many times.

I was awake the whole time.
I wanted to throw up so badly,
On everyone and everywhere
You're so disgusting.

I love you so much
Do you want to make me feel so sick,
And make my head spin so much,
That I can't even sleep?

I've been up all night and you have to steal my sleep
You ******* *******
You just blew whatever chance you had left.