Through traced lines and melodies.

What started as innocence, then tangled into a rolodex of beautiful men, with rings on their fingers, and wives in their beds. Thoughts through my head, ending in the same tearing realization. I am who I am. Years, and lines, and pages, and words you can count for the rest of your life, wont compare to the amount of anything worth giving time to, still with each word, lies true tearing conviction. Bold statements strewn where they could drape over chairs, and fall not onto deaf persons, but persons who could not care. They heavy, and fallow, and I'll swallow as long as they'll keep down. And you never disappoint.


p.s- By now, I do know the routine.

Take.

Like a whisper of a breathe, or rather a sigh, on a deathly cold day. Or how the tide gives and takes. Gives and takes. With each pull, it deepens. Anticipation builds, and fades. Hope fills, and releases in one gust of aggression.

p.s- dance till we've got nothing left....

Goodbye to you.

I gave it up till nothing was left. A poor attempt to rid of the feast i had earlier; two sticks of celery and 3 tortilla chips. I was less then pleased. The burn prevented me to talk for the rest of the evening. Grinning, telling me "I told you so.","Can you do anything right?".

I love this corner I've made, and decorated all by myself. The walls are scribbled on and the art kind of sucks, but no ones heres but me. I love that. The door is always open, just for shits and giggles. I only told two of my closest friends/enemies, and they could easily read any of this and tell anyone. The school kids would really love to get their hands on this. But I'm still here alone, so they can't. I am confident in saying that too.

Secrets are my specialty. They'll never know whats underneath my watch and bracelets, or why i can't get out of bed the next morning, or how much, or of what, or why i look different, or what the discoloration was from. They'll never know, no one will.

For you my love.

She loves you, sweetie.

You plague me. Every inch of my thought. You are there, bearing gifts i reluctantly take, who am i to refuse anything from you. I find, gifts of hope, and despair,dreams, and sorrows, and breathe them in as you may have intended. I thank you, and we both go back to what we were doing.

You occupy a vast amount of space in my head, and i let you stay. Who am i to refuse? Your presence consumes me while i sleep, while i play, while i kiss whatever man will remind my of you that night. I don't mind, you bring warmth.

Still, nothing is perfect, not even this. I know she is in you, like you are in me. Who am i to take that from you? I couldn't if I tried, even if you handed it to me pleading. Heart in hand, you don't try. As if you already knew.

Go back to her, she loves you. Go back to her.


p.s- Thank you, again.

Call me beautiful, baby.

i am your canvas.
your pallet.
your breath.
your vision.
your insides, outside.

let me take on what you shed.
drink your negative thoughts,
digest your tremors.
wear your secrets.
bleed what you shy from.

take me.

p.s-fuck with my mind.

It's just the way i am.
Highly opinionated, socially awkward,
some how making the feeling in the room turn.. well.. uncomfortable.
I tried turning "it" off, but it seems bland.

Dead Men.

when will this end
will i know
what damage lies beneath the rubble
smoky eyes, and short of breathe
your here, but i cant feel you
i see you but my eyes have fooled me before
i can hear a voice, still faint, i am dreaming
through silhouettes and shadows of the monster i feed
you live somewhere past
better off with out me
still what a haunting place
as if i were anticipating your fall
the demise of who you live for
i like to believe what you have is real
but my eyes have fooled me before

p.s- I built this for you! Do you accept?



...................................................



I place it on a hight shelf knowing its about to fall, and wait.