Jan 18, 2005 23:05
I feel selfish and dead and as always I’m honest. And my heart beat is a cry; a forced dormant scream that flees through wide pupils and twitching knees. When I see the deep wrinkles of my U-scarred wrist, I tend to want to cry for my childhood, and partly because of it. Keep refuge in cookie dough and crossword puzzles in the hope of you and your love of me. I am so afraid of my inability to have doubts concerning such things as love. I. Don’t feel that. Honestly. My death would cause even the faintest ripples
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I once knew a girl and she had a tear in her eye as she waslked up that familiar hill and the music wrecked her ears; she grabbed her face from both sides with scratching fingers. A mask can only be removed if one is wearing one and isn't this sad, this permanence? Temples bleeding, she has none of what the people call hope and the poets call life when deprived of it. I knew a girl and I know myself and they are not quite different from one another, nearly at all. Do you know what it's like with a heart completely kept to itself? It's like a leaking battery that crusts over an electronics insides with foul-smelling crystals. Do you know what it is like to dream everyday? About tornados exploding a town and turning into ice made of flame which charges through the ground fire lines, earth melting into hell as the people shriek and ignore all at once? Probably. There you are on that mountain and you are still thinking of kisses while you cry for the apocalypse. I once knew a girl and they all said that she was out of her mind, but they were wrong. She was much too far inside of it.
thank god for my imagination otherwise I don't see how I could survive this night without making myself believe that you are, in fact, the pillow that I plan to hold so tight when the lights are turned off.