It seems that typing words is my life now.
ALL I FUCKING DO ANYMORE IS WRITE FUCKING PAPERS. FUCK ETHICS. FUCK SENIOR CAPSTONE. FUCK RESEARCH. FUCK THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN RADIOLOGIC TECHNOLOGISTS' SELF-PERCEPTION OF INVOLVEMENT AND DEPARTMENT MORALE. FUCK THE CAMC IRB BITCH. FUCK JANISCH. FUCK FUCKING EVERYTHING. FUCKFUCKFUCK.
I'm so exhausted and ready to be packed up and on the way to somewhere else with Jason. I've always tried to do well in school, regardless of how i might have sounded at the time, but now, I'm shooting for a 70% in everything. As long as I pass and graduate, I don't care anymore. They can't take my scholarship away next semester. I poured my soul into my senior ethics reflection (no, really...I did.) and got an F. Why? Because Dr. Janisch decided that he didn't like the direction I went. "It's a well-written and thought-out paper, but it's not really what I like." A;DFLJAOERIHNDKVNALJGODHGE;FJ;DLKNSLKDN@#%$^%^&*&$^@????????????/
Anyway, to calm down, I started reading some of my poetry from last year. Things were uncertain in my head, but not in my world.
"Sixes"
I make imaginary lines in your skin with my fingerprints
Moans in the form of closed eyes and gasps
Delving into ritualistic love
Missing the point but hitting the spot
Heavier, heavier
Free falling into figurative snow
Cold, soft, temporary
Is this fear or regression?
I am lost
Physically, I feel you
I'm missing you in ideals
Your patterns are not cohesive or real
Crumbling, crumbling
Your limbs go on for miles, but comfort not
He is grease, soaking, choking
Soft touches mean the most
You make it impossible to cease
But I should thank you for that
And now, for some non-shitty words that made me cry: La Dispute! (as if you didn't know who it'd be....I promise to stop whoring them out when I die)
"Nobody, Not Even the Rain"
I know that someday you'll be sleeping, Darling, likely dreaming off the pain.
I hope you'll hear me in the streetlight's humming, softly breathing out your name.
I know that even with the seams stitched tightly, darling scars will remain.
I say we scrape them from each other, darling, and let them wash off in the rain.
And when they run into the river, oh no, let the water not complain.
I swear that even with the distance, slowly wearing at your name,
Your hands still catch the light the right way and
Our hearts still beat the same.
k
P.S. I forgot to mention that earlier today, I was wearing my homemade gay rights t-shirt, lying on my friend's rainbow throw rug and listening to Cher on the radio. I have never felt gayer in my life. :) Just thought I'd share.
I'm so exhausted and ready to be packed up and on the way to somewhere else with Jason. I've always tried to do well in school, regardless of how i might have sounded at the time, but now, I'm shooting for a 70% in everything. As long as I pass and graduate, I don't care anymore. They can't take my scholarship away next semester. I poured my soul into my senior ethics reflection (no, really...I did.) and got an F. Why? Because Dr. Janisch decided that he didn't like the direction I went. "It's a well-written and thought-out paper, but it's not really what I like." A;DFLJAOERIHNDKVNALJGODHGE;FJ;DLKNSLKDN@#%$^%^&*&$^@????????????/
Anyway, to calm down, I started reading some of my poetry from last year. Things were uncertain in my head, but not in my world.
"Sixes"
I make imaginary lines in your skin with my fingerprints
Moans in the form of closed eyes and gasps
Delving into ritualistic love
Missing the point but hitting the spot
Heavier, heavier
Free falling into figurative snow
Cold, soft, temporary
Is this fear or regression?
I am lost
Physically, I feel you
I'm missing you in ideals
Your patterns are not cohesive or real
Crumbling, crumbling
Your limbs go on for miles, but comfort not
He is grease, soaking, choking
Soft touches mean the most
You make it impossible to cease
But I should thank you for that
And now, for some non-shitty words that made me cry: La Dispute! (as if you didn't know who it'd be....I promise to stop whoring them out when I die)
"Nobody, Not Even the Rain"
I know that someday you'll be sleeping, Darling, likely dreaming off the pain.
I hope you'll hear me in the streetlight's humming, softly breathing out your name.
I know that even with the seams stitched tightly, darling scars will remain.
I say we scrape them from each other, darling, and let them wash off in the rain.
And when they run into the river, oh no, let the water not complain.
I swear that even with the distance, slowly wearing at your name,
Your hands still catch the light the right way and
Our hearts still beat the same.
k
P.S. I forgot to mention that earlier today, I was wearing my homemade gay rights t-shirt, lying on my friend's rainbow throw rug and listening to Cher on the radio. I have never felt gayer in my life. :) Just thought I'd share.