an insensible accounting; with loud illustrations
because i am not in the mood to make sense and probably couldn't anyway. head is crazy abstract and he never listens to me with the right filter, but i do the same to him so fair is probably fair. should maybe try to make sense and avoid repeating mistakes but. instead we will revert to notwords.
blah blah blah chemistry, blah blah blah, bad idea, blah blah holy fucking arrogant batman. oh, wait, i'm probably feeding that, right? mistake number 53. and then, how did that get there again? oh. mistakes 54 through 57, inclusive.
now. now. skip past an exploration of the difference between rough and cruel and a wondering of whether "not falsely advertised" is an entirely legitimate claim and the headgames he thinks he's playing because he believes himself to be oh so very much smarter, lacking sufficient insight to understand the only one playing games with me is me. but now who's being arrogant?
stupid enough to subject myself to that because? i don't want to think about it, really.
angry at myself and punishing with an invitation to debase? or simply reverting to pre-marriage patterns because. they are patterns, after all.
determined to retreat into fairy tales and refuse to accept reality? but fairy tales were grimm realities and so i make it so. layers of pretending. butterflies and daisies over here. broken scary boy there. it's all a shame and mostly a sham.
and speaking of shame. holy hell no more drinking in mixed company for me. did i say that last time? i mean it this time. so. fucking. obnoxious. ugh. but, hangover free thanks to graciously tolerant lovely CM.
no, don't go thinking i can blame alcohol for mistakes 54 through 57. they were set in motion before the night began, and could perhaps be blamed for my choosing inebriation again, but; definitely, don't for a second mistake the cart for the horse, here. he even waited till i was sufficiently sober to take me home; mostly, i think, because it excites him less to believe the choice is made impaired. but that is just a supposition. i forget to ask the questions when he is in front of me and he probably wouldn't be brave enough to tell the truth anyway. he is stultifyingly predictable where i was hoping for some real creativity.
now i'm here not wanting to leave the house lock myself in swallowing my voice.
and then more shame because what right do i have to be so fucked up in my simple little life when there are people dealing with real challenges and didn't i resolve all of this shit ages ago? no excuse for this tedious repetitious wallowing hateful in ugliness.
tiny bug huddles tiny voice screams tiny on the floor under stupid. fucking. tears. but maybe that is what i was looking for all along.
reap. rape. repeat.
dropped words somewhere
insufficient shouting
tight t-shirt obscene
over breasts
and let down
ache to feed
sustain
show worlds contained
submerged
rain slick streets slip
dismembered fragments
beckon quick lifeless
write them down
make up your mind
and drown.
you are my
consumed
consuming
thought
words
notwords
fill fear fall full
on brutal
restraint
mind piece
pieces stealing peace
taken takes shakes
sift through
stolen
blah blah blah chemistry, blah blah blah, bad idea, blah blah holy fucking arrogant batman. oh, wait, i'm probably feeding that, right? mistake number 53. and then, how did that get there again? oh. mistakes 54 through 57, inclusive.
now. now. skip past an exploration of the difference between rough and cruel and a wondering of whether "not falsely advertised" is an entirely legitimate claim and the headgames he thinks he's playing because he believes himself to be oh so very much smarter, lacking sufficient insight to understand the only one playing games with me is me. but now who's being arrogant?
Click to viewstupid enough to subject myself to that because? i don't want to think about it, really.
angry at myself and punishing with an invitation to debase? or simply reverting to pre-marriage patterns because. they are patterns, after all.
determined to retreat into fairy tales and refuse to accept reality? but fairy tales were grimm realities and so i make it so. layers of pretending. butterflies and daisies over here. broken scary boy there. it's all a shame and mostly a sham.
and speaking of shame. holy hell no more drinking in mixed company for me. did i say that last time? i mean it this time. so. fucking. obnoxious. ugh. but, hangover free thanks to graciously tolerant lovely CM.
no, don't go thinking i can blame alcohol for mistakes 54 through 57. they were set in motion before the night began, and could perhaps be blamed for my choosing inebriation again, but; definitely, don't for a second mistake the cart for the horse, here. he even waited till i was sufficiently sober to take me home; mostly, i think, because it excites him less to believe the choice is made impaired. but that is just a supposition. i forget to ask the questions when he is in front of me and he probably wouldn't be brave enough to tell the truth anyway. he is stultifyingly predictable where i was hoping for some real creativity.
now i'm here not wanting to leave the house lock myself in swallowing my voice.
and then more shame because what right do i have to be so fucked up in my simple little life when there are people dealing with real challenges and didn't i resolve all of this shit ages ago? no excuse for this tedious repetitious wallowing hateful in ugliness.
tiny bug huddles tiny voice screams tiny on the floor under stupid. fucking. tears. but maybe that is what i was looking for all along.
reap. rape. repeat.
dropped words somewhere
insufficient shouting
tight t-shirt obscene
over breasts
and let down
ache to feed
sustain
show worlds contained
submerged
rain slick streets slip
dismembered fragments
beckon quick lifeless
write them down
make up your mind
and drown.
you are my
consumed
consuming
thought
words
notwords
fill fear fall full
on brutal
restraint
mind piece
pieces stealing peace
taken takes shakes
sift through
stolen