bland homecoming. and a new trial.
its a romeo and juliet. a camera full of pictures spent, on wasted faces. replacing rocks. well no, maybe just a rock. random on the beach and waiting for the tide. .. staring at the moon. i hope i never have to 'cut him out in little stars'. becuase the sky cannot reach down its arms and wrap them around my spine. i left too soon we met too soon and soon in some one hundred days im wishing for this permanent fixture of your face. and body. and words. and right now im flooding my brain my throat my strep throat and pressured thoughts with unearned rights, with permission. and theyre building ulcers throughout my stomach, beneath my weak and pointless skin. ugly skin. why god. oh god, my 'father', is life full of choices? if i cant reach out and unstick one off the stupid peeling ceiling without my hand getting slapped, getting pushed away. or forced down. its a romeo and juliet... no. wheres my nurse? his friar? fuck the friar. because he picks at my depression with a needle, and with vain screeching of beautiful fallen angels. and if one more whispers such a line as "death lies on you like an untimely frost upon the sweetest flower of all the field", i w/ill sprinkle rust, for knives weather under the sky. 'these violent delights have violent ends". and you are forcing me to live a lie.
so i felt like writing. i still dont feel better about it though. fuck. im messed up. and im writing on the internet to myself. fuck that as well.
whats my age again? ... ..17 years plus 13 more i feel weighed and counting. ... ..
fuck this place i lost the war i hate you all my moms a whore.