February 21st, 2013 9:19 pm A candidate for my soul mate bled. [ ] [ mood | creative ] [ music | Plastic tree ] This entry is always at top. Yeah. This is where I write. It's crap, I know. Don't need to tell me. It's just to release, this is my air. My train of thought, completely random yet not. That's it. Don't try to understand it. It's not physical or emotional or sexual. They're not about a boy or a girl or a lover. They're just words. Or maybe they are. What do I know? If you really want to, ask me about my regular journal. OLDEST ENTRIES: here. Here you can say "ohmagod Caroline!"- and then I'll be all like, "What?" And cough. Silence. "Who the hell is Caroline?" Be careful girl. Caroline might set your hair on fire. You never really know, with kids these days. True story, heard it from a friend. 49

March 5th, 2008 9:34 pm gone. as if anyone comes here anyways... [ ] moved: http://uneasylies.wordpress.com.

February 6th, 2008 4:34 am [ ] i guess, maybe, just- our time is up.

February 6th, 2008 2:40 am i don't think that you could ever understand. [ ] if i told you this is what i was thinking that waking is a task alone and maybe i just would rather not they would inject my veins with toxins and practice speeches attempt to let me unlearn what i have learnt; the truth indisputably no therapy can change about this, this this this me anomalism malformation expendable.

January 29th, 2008 2:39 am [ ] we can say this much; i am no longer fourteen.

December 7th, 2007 1:43 am [ ] i was lying when i said i was stronger than this.

October 3rd, 2007 4:35 am I wander the night alone. [ ] I will admit to this- in surly candour there is no earthquake heartquake heartshake heartache lovecake lovemake lovetake break (for my own sake) inside my chest. But maybe, for once, I wish there was. I wish not for more trauma to my insides perhaps it’s true what they say there are too many trying to get in, I’m suffocating in, a little bit. I use no artifice, no stratagem. I will not attempt to ensorcell any living being They simply come in a calalcade Lining up for the execution And oh, it leads me to paroxysms of melancholy So how do I expect to ameliorate my own heart shake ache quake break I’ll leave be the bravado at the door, as my armor absconds whilst I am turned around and I will admit- What I really need is a heartwake.

September 26th, 2007 2:33 am i'm kind of lame, i guess. [ ] the complexity of my inability to properly recuperate is often miscommunicated. i'd like to say i'm falling all over myself in celebration, but i'm simply just another, run run (distilled). it's just that, yesterday, i was five (it's oh so clear) and then i was eleven and thirteen and seventeen. and yet i speak as though i have been affected by a cataclysm or like i am thousands and thousands nineteen is just, like the most, a drop of youth. i'm unchanged. i'm hardly here, in minutes. in the inevitable span, i'm less than infinite, a glitch in time. maybe this year, as i say so every year, i'll wash my hands of misdemeanors. i'll crash into cowardice, sans seatbelt & clenched fists. i'll run a marathon. i'll hover above the ground, because we know aging lends wing to feet. i'll learn spanish. i'll grow. i'll stop my heart, right in its place, at the right moment. and i won't run. (but we know, this won't, i won't, you won't, probably not.) because nothing's all that different anyways except well i can buy porn

August 20th, 2007 1:36 am drawing blood for nameless gods [ ] the pain, that day, was inevitable. conversely, the smell of      fresh grass on the back pockets of       our jeans brought about      an unmistakable vivid tenacity for life, the kind that leaves your shaking palms drawing blood for nameless gods. i would then press my damp fingers over your eyelids, and tentatively bite at each and every indicia of vertigo- hungrily, not      even as testament of our liaison, but as snow white, as eve. in benevolent curiosity and abysmal indignation, in genuine,      back-aching, cardiac exploding, nail biting candor and naïveté,  i would let crucify, just for you.     i would cautiously desperately  foolishly exultantly   acquiescently do what i can      to elate, as to your appeal.      when i would wake, i would find     myself alone and arching, with greened knees and your fever wrapped around me like a bouquet.

August 2nd, 2007 11:03 am disillusioned [ ] the non-attendance of my own self has been dually noted I have a tendency to be wary of discerning reveries with reality, as it strikes a fear into my very cold bones many a nights when I rouse midst the dead of the dark I find myself stretching from one reality to another- vocalized with the deliberate, compliant veracity only found in imaginings, I speak aloud to a particular no one or nonexistent or displaced someone from that of which I had just woke and when risen from this trance, I share a fleeting look with my own self to be fervently frightened like facing my own fatality, like death’s keeper herself and as I watch the lines of my own eyes blur in and out, disorienting, I wonder if I am really gazing at my own glassed likeness or truly, my own flickering oversoul a doppleganger fiend staring back at me this on its own in its own ridiculousness fails not to waft by me constantly interrupting every last sense of rationality in me and in this dead of night, leaves me hesitant from even but turning away from my very own silhouette in case it decides to get up from behind me and create incisions in my lungs and perhaps slit my throat

July 3rd, 2007 1:55 am last chance left to dance, even when there's blood on my hands. [ ] You had said, “place a finger through this chasm and let each pound- thump thump thump- embed themselves into each echelon of your inner self-” like you are important, like you’re someone, like you are a fortune cookie or Gandhi or my neighbour’s dog-  (I don’t even like dogs) and now I’m frowning (in indifference) because I can feel your heartbeat (much to my dismay) and you are expecting me to simply dive back into you even though last I recall I was submerged headfirst without a life jacket or adequate wading skills and most importantly without so much as a glance in my direction from you, the certified instructor, the avant-garde liberator, the affable, cordial redeemer. Back track to my unwavering mortal reflexes, the innate requisition for survival. I’d find my way back up. It’s not even that you left a wound because I’m breathing aren’t I? Poised, I surfaced, with my hands searching, attempting to grab onto nothing and everything. It’s that you left me there, flailing uselessly, naught in the direction of aid, or even a smile. (So here we are.) A hole in your heart left by my gun and my fist leads you back to where we stand and while I stare into your frighteningly cerulean blue eyes and your matted flaxen hair (look at you with your palms facing down and that shamefaced grin, you may surpass me in age but you’re no more than a boy) I’m grateful for this calculated self-created deficit of affection. I won’t allow for more than what we’re here for. (I won’t succumb, not again.) There is an awkwardness in you I am unaccustomed to. It must be that I can see right into you, and at any moments time- reach out and- Oh you’re defenseless and I haven’t got a bandage made for that sort of perforation. (Play dough would cover the draft but you’d like that and I’m not here to amuse little boys.) Let’s just keep this between us and move on. I promise, at best, that when the hurricanes come, to stand in front of you so you won’t have to feel the storm pulsating through you. At least, for the first five minutes.

April 7th, 2007 10:43 am lines [ ] Our metaphysical disturbance has led to a declination in our elegiac effigy The lines of your jaw are no longer a distraction for these parted lips I have no thirst to trace a lone finger along the lines of your hipbones, your cheekbones The lines that once anchored me to you have detached themselves reflexively, unhooking and unraveling like days shifting forwards and backwards (unresponsive, really, like the lines through time) I must admit, idea of lines bearing witness to a tangential but consequential vision is sultry. Hard expressions aside, I like lines. The lines of an era, the lines of the atlas you call your palm, your proverbial glare- the lines of a square, the lines in prose and those that form linkages and lineages and history I was drawn to this, with you. But enough is enough and I’m no longer prepared to tango with Mephistopheles if he won’t let me lead. I’m willing to remember that we all have the same lines under our skin- I won’t forget it this time.

March 2nd, 2007 10:10 am Retribution [ ] I want to away with this feeling by presenting it to innocent bystanders, a dowry of  errant value- oh my wayward ways- with my hands knotted into bows behind my back, symbolism pertaining to my evident blamelessness (but oh clearly this is an fabrication, you fathom well) I want I want to give this feeling away to someone like you, except I don't dare to give it away My self regard would not exceed past limits as such, I guarantee this. As such, this feeling-   It takes breath down upon me; the infamy of this leaves me in sombre wake. I am culpable in every way. I’m left in a ring of deja vu without the abilities to circumnavigate. Visualize me now, spinning. Attempting to shrug off this visceral sensation leaves the amplification of the reverberation of my heartbeat resonating and pulsating and disquieting and unsettling throughout every last multi-cellular organism in this destabilized, dismal poor excuse for a body of mine. Hardly abstemious, I find myself knitting myself into an elaborately patterned five-fingered-mitten that will ultimately close each and every one of those fingers around this deserving gullet. In due course a small silver flat-footed heathen will find herself quiescent under layers upon layers of loam, decaying at the crust. An empty shell.   I want to do away with this feeling, but surely it would pass unto another, thrice binds the law so should they believe- And in my soul struck with malice I understand b’witched they would be, each blight tumbling unto la prochaine comme sa, subsequently. & so I don’t dare, I don’t dare I do not dare.

February 28th, 2007 12:25 am fucking drop dead [ ] bewitched. you. you called yourself my friend? you spoke of me endlessly even before any of this. every word from your mouth fumbling over the next, grasping, gasping, for any sort of leverage, despondency, response. do you feel justified? is your heart swelling, beating with satisfaction? did a part of you warm, with your fingers tucked in folds, nails long yet barely scratching the surface when you spoke my name in disdain? sheep. however, i am foul to blame only you when apparently i'm on your lips. hardly the proverbial they, more the plural your. you know who you are. in my obloquy, does your tongue feel satisfied? i love how you read one page of the story and then you shut the book. how do you imagine the story? i don't imagine you can. at least not the right one. halfling. your concept of companionship is questionable. i enjoy how you see with one eye. be still. your amour propre stems from your desire to be as libra; balanced. fair. the scale. you show no signs of this. however, regardless of such, i am less likely to bestow ill upon you. i'll never lower myself to your stance. and we all know my height, i hardly mean literally, is so intricately small, it is almost mythical. (yet they wonder why i keep my mouth shut on actual matters. what do you really know about me? think hard. oh wait. the answer is- absolutely nothing.) enter your patterns into my absence that is what you do. you create your own explanations, assuming that i am a blank canvas. do what you will, if it gets you by. - - - - let us repeat a new tale. you'll never read this anyhow. no one reads this anyhow. and if you do- you'll hardly understand. - - - -

February 9th, 2007 4:06 am describe a new ending. [ ] This preemptive loss of transfiguration has left me cold again today writhing for a chance at fashioning something monumental. My bones grow heavy, and I am stilled. I’ve become more and more into this lethal misconception. I’ve never been known to be fatal other than by choice. I am growing weary of my reflection. As I wait, as I hesitate, my vocation grows paralysed, and---- the eloquence of an unadulterated ambition pleats, folding unto itself thrice over, a bind of three. I fear for this time, and this self loss. In my own effigy, bedlam like the poignant cerise of a wintry sunset proceeds lawless; it is disturbed or so it seems. - - - - - The wings of change. The wings of direction. The wings of self. While aimless, the arrogance you observe is your own miscalculation. While aimless, while wandering, the flirtation with peril you witness is simply your own inaccuracy, intended at destroying each and every feather. Do you wish to pluck each plume, tear these wings apart, feather by feather? Yes, I am astray. Forlorn, ashen and diffident, perhaps, but you don’t know me very well. Your insistence that my soul haemorrhages polyamorous blood is nevertheless puzzling, and perturbing. I may be at a loss for myself I may be dissonant, jarring, cacophonous. invalid, disposable, discordant, inactive. I may, I may. My vacillation may be unsettling my transition through time, falling into place between dissension and compliance--- I may be in need of a new manifestation--- However I am not at dispute with my loyalties; with my own abstinence and future acceptance of monogamy, your refusal to believe so is unmoving. - - - - - Perhaps I’ve grown cold to touch for these reasons combined, me me me you. My own loss of direction. Your untimely defeat, your loss of sight of my own image. For me to lose me, is as expected. For you to lose me, is as to be rejected- by me, to you, you you. Your loss of me is incomprehensible and flawed. I will watch you wash away your regret, as you swallow it back down. I promise not to be here to catch you.

February 4th, 2007 3:07 am [ ] Lo & behold, Deena is escaping the reaches of the interactive global community. Please bear with her while she cuts herself off from her neighbouring aquaintainces in efforts to provide herself with an easier, more comfortable life. How easily she does slip into this lie, it's almost sacrilegious. Ungodlyungodlyungodlyglslaofas. Spit. Wait. You'll see her next, old and grey- still but, with few, but solid friendships. The rest is unnecessary, she now sees. It's impossible right now, living like this. The world isn't ready. The world needs to grow. How to be faithful in a godless, loveless, unappreciative nation- she wonders still. Spit.

November 5th, 2006 1:12 am don't drag my love around. [ ] Doesn't anybody realize, even I don't buy my own disguise? It’s a sad symphony, really, this need of mine to fill a void that isn’t there. And while I understand that it may be my own fault that it’s hit me right back in my face, it’s disheartening that there are so many that judge on what’s solely on the surface.  As if humans aren’t multifaceted beings, with layers upon layers of convolution sewn together in the seams of our animas. As if we aren’t all multidimensional beings, with wavering hearts and weightless élan vitals. As if, as if, as if.   I realize I have a tendency to speak, and when I speak- imagine a downpour of debris, falling from the sky. Imagine concave substance, imagine gravitational collapses of stars forming stellar black holes, imagine plastic. Enough to not take me seriously. Enough to recognize thunderous diffidence. But you wouldn’t. But you can’t. But you don’t.   Let this be a lesson to those who comprehend, to those who empathize, analyze, recognize. There is always so much more.   Perhaps you’re looking with your eyes, but you’re not really seeing. Your vision is clouded, and I’m constantly speaking in parables with  the façade of Paris, London, New York.   I’m just clearing the air.   (Try breathing, try breathing. I’m trying. I’m trying.)

September 19th, 2006 4:20 am Cold-hearted whore. [ ] I had forgotten all about you. You, you, you. Until now, until this very moment. Here and now, you may catch my tongue moving quickly, lies enmeshing themselves into each other, like prismatic light. (I hold a secret in my hands. It’s simply confidential, but beloved, you already know. Can you follow this train of thought?) I’ll divulge this truth; you have me scarred. I’m so young and loveless. But still. I’d rather you flesh down every last of your skins then come back to me. You, you, you, my last everything. My only nothing. You speak to me still, in well-bred dialogue, as though we are estranged lovers. Oh wait. We are. In exchange for your dubious concern, I will tease your words into a jar, and store them for another day. For when I’m over not you, but what there could be. But at the end of the day, it’s not you, you, you. I’m only to fault for these discretions. My improvident decisions are simply, mine, mine, mine. Mine.

September 13th, 2006 8:28 am [ ] Descend o’ airborne one. I hold, suffering slightly, as we fall in step.                                                                                                                                                                                                 Have a laugh, while you can. Economic variations collaborating in harmony have sobered my every last scream of youth, at least, for now. (In love.) In the concept of love, I yield. Youth be best for love in ways concupiscence, and solely this, for I go to pieces. There’s no romance in this imitation prose.                      A glass in your hand, you chuckle, child’s play. If only you knew.   This is what I do. I will slowly vitiate your liberal psyche, and deliberately. Calculative and acidic expressive styling poisons will pour into your vena, hold fast. Watch close, don’t drink the Kool-Aid, she says, and you do anyways.   I test your resistance as I reach for your other hand; is this my closeted indignation crawling out on its hind legs? A molecular reaction— (cement in my heart by pulling you apart, while watching every strand of your dignity unfold, the way an incensed kitten tears apart mother’s finest cashmere, oh d-d-dear.)                                                                                                                                  This is nothing short of foreign, I fear. Every prospective cushion for the dry inside has lost all pride, and kneeled. Paramour, you stand, just barely, just barely.   How do you watch me still?   O’ aficionado, oh how, oh how, oh how. How now do you catch these gray stars and create colour? You leave me stock-still the way only prey know.   Yet still, I devise still, the way only the wicked do. Oh, I k now, I will be the end, o’toy. I beg of you, put down the Kool-Aid, while you can. Because I’m beginning to like you, angel. (And that is so so so much worse. This mental preparation for the worst, for the coming, oh, just the start.)   I beg, I beg, I beg. But in no way how the way of yours. If you misunderstand, your lips are nearing the glass, oh my. Oh my.   Whether you drink now is your choice. I will drop your hand at once, and fall back, for once. Ascend, o’ airborne one. You tear of weakness, and I will you to gain strength. Here and now, I fall back.

June 6th, 2006 9:36 am http://shockoflove.co.nr/ [ ] Sometime's I write a little differently.

April 11th, 2006 10:22 am I am precious, give me money. [ ] Can you imagine yourself at the claws of society, billowing, wafting, at the edge, yet- held onto so tightly, almost mercilessly? So there you stand- oh, yes, you. Darling, oh darling. What naivety. You don't need to imagine, as I presume that you, like the most of us, are already there, hands fixed and hair blowing ever so gently. The back of your neck prickling from the brash zephyr hurling itself upwards from below, and you are unprepared, disjointed and lacking sufficient information on your place in civilization. Are you a bystander, watching in your disassociation, or do you stand there, smack dab in the middle, knees and elbows constantly brushing up against the sweat of fellow barbarians? It's okay. No one is ever really in, and no one is really ever out. Not you, not me, not him, and certainly not her. You'll learn, eventually, we hope. How long can one brush with death so constantly- you're on a cliff, my dear- and not be aware? Brush with death, you say. Isn't that a bit dramatic, Deena darling?             Oh, but is it? Think about it. You can't just bring forth one of your ridiculous theories and not fully explain it.                 It's not to be explained fully.     And then you're just conversing with yourself. Maybe I'm just writing about nothing or simply proposing ideas that can't be fully backed up. Most likely.   You know, I don’t want to be involved in either. In, or out. It’s OK. None of us are out, and none of us are fully in, although some of us are more in, and some are more out. Pawns and those who are aware they’re pawns.   We don’t need to separate the two, because they are more or less the same.   It’s just the sub-categories, really, that start insurrection- actually, from within their own homes.     LET US DISCUSS TYPE #9. SOCIETY CONFUS PERSONAS. And then, there are those of us, who are stuck between two societies, two cultures. If anything, they are more attached to their previous one than the current one they are living in, yet they refuse to re-enter this earlier society permanently. What's your point? They're wavering back between the precipice and the claws of the social order so violently that they no longer are able to function normally, subsequently, dragging down those around them. Can't you see? One minute they are falling from the edge, bodies flailing, one arm grasping onto the edge, the other grasping the sleeve of their oldest child, despite the fact that the child, (who is not really a child, in fact, because they are nearing the same age when they themselves were married) would come to less harm if they fended for themselves. Well, in actuality, they would not be in this situation in the first place if their parents hadn't dragged them along with them in the first place. Unwillingly, of course. (When is one ever dragged willingly? What say you, Deena!?)   Now imagine this- in efforts to not fall short of society’s limitless expectations, the Indecisive Parents are thrust back into the crowd, in turn, losing grip on their not so young children. The children, at the cusp of their individuality, take this opportunity to gain newfound independence.   This is not long-standing, considering they find themselves at their inevitable alienation once again, as they are once again hanging off the edge of a cliff, their sleeves being grasped by their overbearing, time-trapped parents.   Once again, we must point out the irony of this situation; the parents are holding onto their children for their dear lives, thinking their children will fall so fast. If their parents keep holding onto them like that, well, they most likely will. Land on their necks while they’re at it. Now, however, if the children were to, say, jump, there is a high chance that they will land on their feet…   Where did this we come from, Deena? Nevertheless, can we solve this?   No matter. In this well adjusted society, everything will work out, right? (Please sense the sarcasm.)   Now, this is just one of the ever-many, ever-failing forms. I bring you only truths, here. I promise.   Now tell me if I’m lying.

January 28th, 2006 9:29 pm [ ] It's funny; when you seem to have everything to say, you can't say anything.

January 8th, 2006 9:25 pm You've taught me the lesson of silent lips, keep tight let no one in. [ ] You know on some days despondency ensues, overwhelming every inch of your body, anesthetizing every active cell, until you are solidity a nonentity. Today is one of those days. I've cut myself off from so many. Or have I? I can't remember, each action falls on top of the next- dominoes cascading in routine fashion, in fact; this sensation, this reaction should have been anticipated. It seems there is only Deena. Only Deena. I did this to myself. (Hating everyone.) I’ve limited myself to very few, these days- and the ones I’ve set aside, I’ve latched onto, hook, adhesive, rope. (Please don’t let me go.) I used to be surrounded by friends. Was that the word I’m looking for? Friends? Companions. Associations. Connections. That’s what they are now. I brush back a laughter, at this thought. Have I driven them away, with my recurrent unremitting need to – &&&&;;(oh darling, fill in the calm.) Make quiet, don’t be quick to respond, I need not hear more. I cannot hear more. I hear enough of it every day. I’m lonely. There is no word. No makeshift remedy for a lost cause.

December 19th, 2005 11:33 pm Monsters. [ ] Habitual learners gravitate towards post traumatic stress disorder. They lean towards the decoration of monsters, asinine and unlikely, constantly digging their heels into the palms of their credulous quarry; that is you, that is me. That is me. The tendency to follow this particular path never fails to overwhelm- a suffocation of the sort, enwrapped with aphrodisia and the last of your touch. I wonder if I meant for this to happen. I initiated conversation with you, that once. Familiarity was never an intention, it was simply a miscalculation of lexis strung together in efforts to impale the sense of ignominy birthing itself inside Sense of liability, obligatory responses ensue. Habitual learners are consistent in their actions, yet I find you perplexing, but in no way prodigious, I blame this on your preconceptions of monsters, which, in fact, are more distinct in temperament than that of your kind. You are simply a casualty of my own self-injury, don’t you see? Let this be a lesson, and a realization. I am that monster.

December 7th, 2005 8:23 am [ ] In the mean time, you'll find me dwelling over lesbian lovers and lost relationships, boys with charisma and uninspiring revelations- hunched behind a silouette of something that could mean something. Just possibly.

November 14th, 2005 7:51 pm Can you hear me, now that I’m screaming? [ ] Can you hear me, now that I’m screaming? When you were speaking today, it was as if you were speaking to me. You were, weren’t you? * * * Your eyes grazed mine briefly at first, then you held on, and did not let go. Your vacuous stare seemed to absorb every hidden demon I’d shoved aside. * * * But I’m falling. I’m falling. I need you so much closer. I need you so much closer. * * * Red shoes. She wanted red shoes. Protect him from herself, she said. * * * Rain blinded my eyes today. Only it didn't. Would you know? Would you really? The sky was black again today. But really, it really wasn't. And I stopped breathing for five seconds straight and you didn't even notice. You didn't even care. * * * Her skirt was too short. She didn't even have the legs for it. Still doesn't. Not like you, she said to me. You have the legs. She doesn't. Did you see that? We all saw that. But we didn't close our eyes, we couldn't close our eyes. We couldn't. * * * Gross. Gross like backwash. * * * You woudn't mind mine, would you? Sssh, sshh. * * * I filled my head with your voice. & now I'm drowning. * * * He told me I was beautiful. And so did he. And him. And him too. I didn't believe it. But it didn't matter. It would only matter if you told me. But you wouldn't tell me, would you. It's not a question anymore. * * * When you were speaking today, it was as if you were speaking to me. You were, weren’t you?

October 17th, 2005 7:39 pm I could bleed, does it make me the same as her? [ ] I saw Madison again today. I did not smile. I never intend to. * * * I'm feeling slightly wounded, won't you kiss it better? She's got the wrong girl... * * * Poignant Myrmidon, I laugh at you as you smile and say "Hey," & it's funny because I don't recall us ever being friends. (I always pretended you did not exist when you said hello, was that new for you?) You, a servile sycophant; short skirts make your counterfeit smiles- your semisynthetic self. You're an oxymoron waiting to be deciphered; but perhaps you will never be a break through. Crystalline eyes shut never bothered anyone. Who are you smiling for; it's not for my benefit, is it? I'm ignoring you; I'm aloof and cantankerous, so who, my dear, are you smiling for? You worry me more than the fact that he has made me blind to else; than the fact he is my only analgesia, my only anesthesia. (My obsession has taken possession of this unholy disillusioned body; my infatuation) * * * It's come to this, to days where I'm living for you & nothing more. (I'LL WRITE ABOUT HER BUT I'M REALLY THINKING OF YOU.) But I don't mind. I used to live for nobody and that wasn't living at all. I want so many things, can I have them? Promise me, promise me you'll never let me go? * * * I would rather look thanatoid than be her. Never have I been more thankful to be in this skin. Of course, I could just be lying to myself. It would not be far from usual. * * * Madison? Who is this Madison, Deena, that you speak of? Sssh, sssh, she's nobody, she's nobody, I promise you. Do you swear? Do you swear? No, no I do not. She could be someday someday. To someone. She probably is now. But not to me. Does she think she's somebody, Deena? Yes, yes she does. She's one of them, isn't she? She's in the majority, the type that have fall into themselves, into their own selfishness and conceit. The type that wants to see something but sees nothing. I don't know if she even wants to see, my dear. Does she have eyes? No, I don't think she does... * * * You worry me more than the thought that I may be diseased with nymphomania; (god, just one single word brings forth fireworks) or the fact that someday I may fall into an endless oblivion. No, because even if I do fall, I shall stand, I shall find my way out of my nonrotating-black hole (Haven't I told you before? This girl is a magnetar, constantly in motion, never falling…) but you, you shall forever be in the sky, light years away from any stand of hope. You kissed it all away, and left the ashes for your minions (who of course are not really yours, you just think they are; that's how programmed you are) to dust away. I can't even wish on you, which makes you even more insignificant and devoid of worth. But, you are in the ever glowing phantasmal sky, alas, isn't that what you wanted? To be high above all of us? But you wouldn't even know that you should be crying, would you? No, you wouldn't. * * * I hear her say, "I CAN'T ESCAPE YOUR ENERGY," but oh, oh yes you can...I know I can. (My veins tell me so, you tell me so. Watch as I rise above.) Because even with my paradoxical nature, I am above you. I do, I do believe so. * * * "You're so conceited," you smirk. "No, no, not really." I am just a paradox.

October 15th, 2005 6:18 pm I know, I know. [ ] I am a back-stage recipe waiting to be thrown out. MY INGREDIENTS ARE ALL MIXED UP TOGETHER. I don’t rise, I don‘t breathe, I’m tasteless and in dire need of spices. Lift me up and throw me under. You don’t need this right now. Is there anything at all to numb the nothingness? They want me to be fixed, they want to fix me, is that real to you? SOMEONE TELL ME WHAT TO FEEL.

October 5th, 2005 12:38 pm I used to know her. [ ] I hope you lose sleep over this. (But I know you won't.) I hope it breaks your heart to think of what we used to have. (But I know it can't.) When I said I was pretending to be a poser, I meant I was pretending to be you. I’m just saying. I’m just saying. I don't associate with poison, so let's just go.

September 8th, 2005 5:20 pm Lovers turn into monsters at the loss of all affection. [ ] There is but desolation, in the void. It’s gnawing away, comfortably, at my core It’s your fault, dear. You did this. There’s no poetry in the lacuna of your lacquered words You manifested this diablo, this aperture Your eidolon remains like an unwelcomed scar.

September 2nd, 2005 5:34 pm with you by my side, you're screaming at the top of your lungs, "let it go" [ ] She hugs me goodbye, softly whispering into my hair, "I love you" and I remember what it feels like to be loved. This is friendship nearby. Friends that remember I exist. But I’ve let go and i'm mending broken friendships because I missed you so.

September 1st, 2005 1:48 pm CONTINUATION OF YESTERDAY [ ] I remember drums and angels I remember velvet skies, ebony exhaust and sightless endeavors melodious sounds as you tripped; your attempts to bend me normally, darling- I am malleable like brick yet, to you I succumb do you smell, sweet Las Vegas? I do unlimited paradoxes desecrated your sanguinity And your voice was syrupy sweet I’d say I’d say let me take a drink; I’d wait for satisfaction Did you hear my veins cursing? Mercury wailing demons awash? My bones are saturated soon to be carcass memories of you are etching themselves into every second fragment, clutching and creeping; so stealth they are sprites in their skins indistinct with cactus shadows And now; oh favorite, oh conquer: ember is luminosity in this night mirth, and mirth is my messiah the saccharine harmony tickles my soul captivating my insides with its charisma Never again shall one borne my demon By one, I scream, you- the irony- you are the nymph to my flute puck, puck, you hear sever me a piece off of your skylight fantasy your reveries bewilder and fascinate I hate you, I love you Dancers that you are dancers that pelt me with pirouettes Now, it is my turn to conspire imitation is a road to success (was it not once you that said, you will never live if you do not learn) I must be cursing because- you are my Sea King, at siege I befall there she goes she soars Did I make sense darling? No, I did not. But it doesn’t matter now, does it? When you walked out that door someone left a hole in my heart I think it was you

August 28th, 2005 1:49 pm GIRLS WITH GUNS [ ] These hands of mine, those that I see you set them before me and command I use them Girls with guns Improvise with me I’d tell you we’re not armed for battle But that wouldn’t make any sense, considering this .45 is pointed at your head These hands of mine, those that I see you set them before me and commanded I use them (and the fair maiden who is truly insane usurps the crown; destined for destruction) Traumatized yet inseparable are Sin and Logic bashing against the doors in the back of my subconscious Girls with guns Improvise with me I’d tell you we’re not armed for battle But that wouldn’t make any sense, considering this .45 is pointed at your head Ready, aim, fire.

August 28th, 2005 1:48 pm PREDETERMINED CAMARADERIE [ ] I was there when you, with your paper maché hands, fell back, choking on bottled antagonism. I could feel you breathing as I attempted to recover pieces of your clay heart, which lay disheveled before me. Here sets in premonitions of companionship. (Oh, saying reverie would lie.) I will not lie; I would hungrily devour every last drop of blood, licking gently on abrasions and unkempt stitches in hopes to become one. (These simulated vampire desires, of course, would simply be a précis of the near future, darling, as you would have given back way to my seduction.) Then, as I would return the pieces to you, in hopes that this alliance would remain, you would leave a little bit of yourself behind, so that one day, neatly packaged in a cardboard star shaped box, wrapped in silver and aphrodisiacs, I would return it to you.

August 28th, 2005 1:47 pm TRANSGRESSION. [ ] Adagio. Adagio. She likes to whisper the word, letting the gh sound seep through the cracks in her teeth. But she never cried. She often dreamt of a world where everyone had her IDEALS. Selfishness was a bad dream. Sometimes she would press her hips against his and wait for- SIN. To her, you are a sin. But oh, she doesn’t believe in sin. And you, you just make her cry- Even though She doesn’t Cry.

August 28th, 2005 1:46 pm EPIPHANY [ ] I CAN’T STAND YOU. YOU AND YOUR BOYISH CHARM. I can’t stand you or your friends. I JUST WON’T SEE YOU. You’ll be in front of me but I just won’t see you LESS THAN A SHADOW minus your scream.

August 28th, 2005 1:46 pm I WATCHED YOUR BRILLIANCE FADE [ ] you + me. gone. you were my BEST FRIEND then, with one quick motion you put me in the cliché of all categories by slowly oh so slowly injecting poison into my veins FILLING ME KILLING ME oh, how you murder this was supposed to be RIGHT. THIS. THIS. THIS. US. but, oh, we’re dead.

August 18th, 2005 11:35 pm THIS PLACE FEELS SO UNFAMILIAR. [ ] I remember when the world was at my feet; I used to fall, ever so gracelessly in its copious arms- heart sporadic, conviction leaping. I remember when there was limbo; I’d entered so fervently eyes blazing and heart breaking. That was a time ago. Purgatory and paradise are safely tucked behind my ear, a dry insurance policy. Line me up, I’m waiting for the middle. Automatic prolonged ataxia for the sane, Spartans and ex-lovers I’ll meet you there.

August 8th, 2005 12:17 pm Blood Lust [ ] I see you and you want to compensate This is what you are telling me but Every time I see you all I see is Blood on your hands Blood on your hands Quick shot, another life gone You say they have no souls They cannot think Well neither do you Neither can you Black light, broken vision Focus on a girl quieted, staring at her feet Only do the walls see, they say The situation speaks for itself Blood, blood is all she sees Your hands, they are tainted with blood This tragedy is your rendering of beauty I call it avaricious, your selfish murder You have no meaning to me yet I kill you not Civilization approves, it must be okay then I’m watching from above eye level and Soon this planet shall be barren All this because of your dehydrated bloodthirsty hands

July 13th, 2005 12:51 am oh darling don't you know. [ ] ( your syntax lies... )

April 13th, 2005 3:48 pm I've turned a corner, boy, my life is ecstasy [ ] [ mood | cold ] It's funny how things can fall apart right before your eyes, and you never even noticed. Or maybe, you didn't want to. And he can turn into someone you don't know. Which hurts you so bad you can't breathe. Your everything just falls into the dark abyss of this world; or perhaps, he never existed. Maybe he was always just a liar.

April 8th, 2004 12:39 pm IS THERE ANYTHING, ANYTHING AT ALL TO NUMB THE NOTHINGNESS? [ ] [ mood | alone ] [ music | Sense Field- Save Yourself ] 60 feet under the ground, decaying from time’s stranglehold on life, there I am not. 60 feet under the ground, away from all that is unholy, just a body & the sand & dirt. 60 feet under the ground, soul collecting dust under the waterwashed & endless sky. 60 feet under the ground, thoughtless as night’s turning, just smooth, oh, I wish, I do.

April 6th, 2004 9:18 am ALL MY ARMOUR FALLING DOWN. [ ] [ mood | rejuvenated ] [ music | Hell Is For Heroes- Retreat ] I have brushed fingers with Death and her sisters, But still, I do not feel less like a discarded doll I tiptoed behind her, she was not aware we met But I am ever reminded of her presence Her shadow trails just beyond my gaze each morn Do you not recall, how our ghosts wrestle tongues weekly? How they mingle oh-so-sweetly. I woke up to an empty bed again Hazel-witch and strawberry-coated whisperings were flowed before these tired eyes Something’s missing, something’s missing. Unfulfilled promises were as a breath of air That was them, yours, tickling the back of this throat Forget that frigid, hollow, desolate sensation rushing before my eyes, like Niagara at it’s peak after endless rain Forget the before-wake phenomenon you pressed between my ravenous lips, oh, it was she it was you, who seduced me into dreaming these lies If I dare close my eyes, I will wander into unchartered territory But then again, she is renting out my heart And controlling every dreaming notion I wish I knew, I wish I could explain I wish I understood movement and why friction even goes so far to invade my mind, but alas, I do not know. I am repulsively mortal, these eyes do not see thoughts, nor do these wings fly.

April 5th, 2004 12:22 pm oh what a tangled web she weaves [ ] [ mood | dorky ] [ music | fall out boy- chicago is so two years ] crawling.

March 26th, 2004 9:23 am I cannot breathe or speak or see [ ] [ mood | fallen ] [ music | Lucky Boys Confusion- City Lights ] I was walking past your car; there was no reflection. Perhaps I do not have a reflection…

March 24th, 2004 12:41 pm AND YOU DON’T SEEM TO UNDERSTAND. I am drowning, I am losing. [ ] [ mood | defunct ] [ music | Jersey- Saturday Night ] I used to wake up at 3:00 a.m. from my tossing and turn to the familiar hum of the computer. I would sneak on and breathe inside myself, in hopes that no one would hear me, so I could talk to you. Now- Now I just wake up.

March 23rd, 2004 9:38 am STRAW SPUN FROM GOLD, SHE CRAVES A TORTURED SOUL. [ ] [ mood | departed ] [ music | Dead Poetic- Burgandy ] Aphrodite, how you infect me; every second is an incarnadine decaying carousal ride. Hypnos; I enjoyed entangling your heart and luring you from Nyx…How your iniquitous tongue tangoed with mine last night, licking my eyes impiously whenever the opportunity was available…. You wished a long dreamless slumber upon me…. But I, lover of reveries, took this into my own hands, for I lack fidelity for those who disrespect. I fear I use your son, Morpheus; he wears my lust for hallucinations like a weathered 1950’s suit, but there is no guilt. He creeps in after you have left each night and lays kisses upon my weakness; my neck. He is my only sin. The gods dare not leave me, meddlesome more than I, they are. They inflict upon me every preying god known of, then, the anti-cupid, rush, vapid night, gone. They set this heart on hiatus for fear of manipulation, my body on fire, rewind time, cosmic domino effect. There’s nothing inside this salacious, tainted body but Greek mythology and earth-shattering anecdotes of heartaches and breaks. This girl is a magnetar, eternally spinning out of control. Mordant, magnetic, and not your typical neutron star…

March 19th, 2004 9:37 am YOU’RE JUST A SONG AND EVERYBODY KNOWS THE WORDS. [ ] [ mood | lifeless ] [ music | Catch 22- 1234 ] Your words sting me more than this cut inside my mouth; the worst kind. Whispers behind me, hush, hush, I am in thought. Break it up, break it fuckin’ up, they tell me, rip it apart, smash it down. Let his heart crumble and perish, like he has done so to yours. You are in shambles, my love, have you let him get to you? You always promised that you would be different; you would never answer Love right away when she knocked on your door. Let her wait, you said, let her ring your doorbell patiently, and hope you will answer. Only let her in if she bears exotic dark chocolates- no more than the best kind-, you told me, Dee, only let her in if it is pulchritudinous like the one from my daydreams. It is too late, I tell you, for you are but a backseat driver. This highway is long, but I will keep on driving, I do not need your advice. I have gotten this far without you; I’ve been low on gas, the seats are uncomfortable, and I do not believe I have a bumper. But I am going, I am going, so hush, hush, you are not pain. Your words, they sting, but hush, I don’t care. This cut will heal as will the lesions from your mouth, but this is not over yet. It doesn’t matter, hush, hush, I am going, I am going.

March 17th, 2004 9:33 am DANCE LIKE WE ARE MAKING LOVE, MAKE LOVE LIKE WE ARE DANCING. [ ] [ mood | deceased ] [ music | The Planet Smashers- No Self Control ] You used to ease through my mind like pornography, grabbing hold of every moral thought and fucking them, slowly and painlessly. You moved like music, your skin, my skin, perfection. It was early morning sex, afternoon sex, after-supper sex, midnight sex; if my body was not promiscuous, my mind sure as hell was. You were my drug, my remedy, every moment denied my castle in the sky was withdrawal…. And then, I met you. I was not aware of your actual bona fide existence, but I did not deny you for a second. You, surreal, I, tangible. I lied to myself, I persuaded myself into believing that I did not know you, but I knew you, for you- you could not be forgotten. Your words caressed my thoughts, black and white poetry mixed with late night cappuccinos. Skeleton, that’s what you were. I learned your core, though you had no face. I knew every bone in your body, had made love to your soul; yet I had never stood before you physically. But I knew it was you. I could recognise you from miles away, if even you were caped, masked and hooded. Your heartbeat is one with mine, does that make any sense to you? These eyes have never seen a today; they are my lungs. They see darkness eternally, and until they are able to respire they shall keep living in tomorrow.

March 11th, 2004 9:15 am Overcast Laughter [ ] [ mood | bleh ] [ music | No Doubt- Different People ] The blood on your hands should still be in your veins Slice yourself up on quiet Saturday mornings when the night is still parting and you, you are not quite in a conscious state of mind Red under your fingernails, is this normal? Your sobriquet makes you feel strong but I know you’re feeling like there is an aperture in your solar everything Astrophysical senses Losing control I want to hold you and let you know I’m here (Baby, I’ve been there before) But I can’t because then the secret’s out, you’ll know. You’ve tried camouflaging into the scenery But I’ve seen past your masquerade I know, one comment And you’ll shut me out I’ve seen your overcast laughter All I can do is send you signals, wordlessly And stay by your side, like a ghost You will not see me, this invisible girl I will always be right behind you Just in case you fall.

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