It's so pointless posting in this journal. Xanga is better. The end.

The absence of that twist
to my stomach,
the rush shaking through my veins
afterwards,

I realized I missed it,
needed it,
craved it like an addiction.

'Adrenaline is my anti-drug'
but it is my drug,
it is what makes me act
in delusional ways,
in risky ways,
ways way
it's way out of my reach but I
never realize this until too late,

because I yearn ( Read more... )

I wonder if it's a need of you or a need of what we had and everyone tells me it's the latter but who can really know? So I tell them, it can't end worse than it did, and I need to know, and I think I still love you. Because I need a best friend right now, and you were one of the best I ever had. You loved me as no one did or has since and I ( Read more... )

1) Stop spending nights with inappropriate boys

2) Stop wishing to relive the past

3) Write more, and not just autobiographically (though the more heartache, the better my writing... ugh, what a paradox)

4) Start diving again. Assuming I don't have a perforated ear drum after all

Some of those resolutions will definitely be easier to keep than ( Read more... )

I was there for you
I was there and I was there and I was there
and you never came
to be there for me

I don't know what to do, now
with this realization
You see, I've lost friends along the way,
like trees lose leaves in the changing seasons,
and I'm tired of it
like sap tires of streaming through a trunk in winter

I want to be an Evergreen,
with friends that ( Read more... )

You're up there on stage ( Read more... )

They tell you that you'll cough
Your first time
You won't know how to do it right and it will burn
The smoke will fill your mouth and throat and lungs
And you'll cough
But you won't get high, not yet

They hand it over to you and you accept ( Read more... )

Do you notice the moth, one centimeter tall,
Clinging to the vertical side of the cement step
Under your booted foot?

Or the way a streak of pink across a sun-risen sky
Exactly matches the shade of a deep red grapefruit,
Or the flush on the cheeks of your lover
After you whisper something decadent in her abalone ear?

Do you hear the chickadee in ( Read more... )

It’s a sky dark as night at 4 P.M.,
ominous clouds and stinging rain striking the ground
and you watching from inside, planning
to take the bus home this time.

It’s the way your feet and legs get soaked ( Read more... )

They say it’s at 3 AM that it gets to you ( Read more... )