I wrote a thousand songs apbout it

I puked and cried and squirmed about it

I hid under my bed about it

so why does it linger still?

I told her everything about it

I hugged and screamed an fought about it

I'm writing to myself about it

emaciate how I feel

I'm tired, mom. I wanna sleep in.

I know you hate it, mom.

I hate it too.

I don't know how to tell my mom - or my psychiatrist, for what it's worth - that I didn't make it. they paint me stronger than I am. I'm a faded blue tint.
I was born during spring, which translates into autumn in the proper hemisphere. properly speaking, I was born in the beginning of death. I think it makes more sense. I don’t see myself a ( Read more... )

did they tell you that if you walk your hometown during sunset with unfocused eyes

all the cars stuck in traffic looks like christmas lights?

as long as you don't bump into shit - don't catch your death, you know - it's pretty enough. a little line of little things.

I'm watching you with unfocused eyes.

I picture myself screaming (I scream so well ( Read more... )

mornings aren't so bad. they shouldn't be.
everything is sunny and there's no dark blue light from dark blue skies over dark blue girls, the ones perched in the balconies, romeoless sluts on a Wednesday.
mornings are bad to me. sun in my eyes and pimples in the corners of my mouth bad. walking to class with my childhood overused socks bad. no ( Read more... )

It's my fault again.
I stretch out my tongue; elastic, so you can bend it and tie it as you please.
I give you the igniting words so you can write the moving eulogy of your martyrdom,
and I sit back and nod.
trading pride for peace until I have nothing left in my sleeve,
but I know you. and you won't hear me anyway.
so I swallow.

I've learned that friendship tastes like going for random groceries my mom assigned me to get, and picking cafés by the shape of their teacups (you think I'd like the hearts, and you're right). And it won't kiss you on the mouth, but it will intertwine drunken limbs around your shoulders and whisper "you're my favorite of favorites" - and in nights ( Read more... )

so. how are we all feeling now? I can't decode the answer on my own if it's about me. been scratching up your walls, self-referential gratitude regarding what comes next. I don’t know.
and they played our? favorite song a few nights ago and I was the happiest I've been in a while but I pretty much got no one to tell about it. I make it historical ( Read more... )

I don't know you anymore, I know that now. It's a strange feeling.

I noticed it first when I didn't recognize the way you smiled on a photo - because, well, you never did. And when you wrote it sounded like someone else anyway.

I heard you got a car. I didn't even know you had a license. It's cool, though, it's just weird. I could never afford ( Read more... )

walking smiley face with shattered limbs
you don’t know where I've been
but then - you never asked.
hey mother, this is the bridge of the song
so do you mind not talking
for a little while?
a longer while,
a little while longer than you'd expect. Sorry
it's my favorite
I've got plenty of favorites I couldn't name to save my life.

and this coffee tastes like ( Read more... )

lately I've been missing the bitterest of times, and I don't really know why. I would never guess what is there to miss.

I guess the biggest thing is, I miss when growing up sounded more like a vow and less like a threat. a foggy faraway window that turns out to be a mirror once you step close enough - undefiable, prompted with sharp glass to ( Read more... )