this morning I didn't want to crawl out
of the protective cover of blankets.
I ruined my fort to stay warm.
I'm just destructive by nature,
I can destroy everything about me&
not. care. at. all.
But when it comes to you, I care
far. too. much.
my efforts are often worthless,
because I don't really have the skills
to socialize or assist in anything
other than trying to make people
pay attention to me. I'm
so. tragically. helpless.

I need a fix cuz I'm going down.

I
don't
know
how
to
write
any
more.
I
need
a
new
outlet
or
some-
thing
to
fix
every-
thing.

pink:::a tad bit melancholy.

pink nailpolish flecked on
twelfth night
or what you will
and smeared on my nails.
because i wanted to.
these vanities are here
to distract me from
inadequecy, but really
they're just reminding me
that when i try, it's
never enough.
the colour is already
chipping, blotting,
out of the lines.
and i ramble.
and ramble
until this is not quite
out of my system.

Your logic is lacking.

how can you
justify being
angry at me
simply because
I am unhappy?
My inferiority
complex is not
an act of obstinate
rebellion. So
please stop
telling me to
stop. You have
no idea.

NewYork pizza.

orange gatorade&15 second
microwaved NewYork pizza;
a second dinner i told myself
i would not have.
today was many days.
the radio made me cry.
you made me smile.
no, i'm not confused.
it's just that things are
confusing right now,
i never know if you're
serious or not:::
any of you. all of you.

consequences is long, heavy word.

i
did
not
follow
any
directions
today,
but
instead
forged
my
own
path:::
not
caring
about
future
consequences.

new december 9: no difference

it's not New anymore.
the chill is getting monotonous.
it is just an empty promise,
never going to bring snow.
only teasing sparkles of
ice on my windshield,
blocking my vision.
is it worth wiping them off?
no. so i drive, straining to
stay on the path, but
not really caring if i
deviate, because
what difference does it
make, really?

New December 4: today was a good day.

hey billy idol,
play me some
songs on your
worn plastic
cassette tape.
windows down,
forgotten flurries
of semi-snow
flutter though
the chilly air.
paint and pens,
glitter and glue.
it's all on my mind.
all piled up in
my memory bank
to remind myself:
today was a
good day.
i was happy
today.

New December 3: REM does not comply.

this morning i crawled back into bed,
sleeping like i did when i was just a kid,
book and gameboy hidden under my
covers in case my mom walked in.
minutesminutesminutes pass&
my eyelids are sore.
i pretend there isn't light leaking through
the fake wooden blinds on my window
and bury myself under the pillows.
it's not so cold beneath the fabric.
it's not so warm beneath the fabric.
i want to be where you are,
but you can't always get what you want.
so instead i dream my wants
until i actually dream all sorts of things
that i do not really want.
REM does not comply with my desires.
cyclecyclecyclecycle awake.
(((...but it was nice to take a break.)))

New December 2: I don't I'm done.

rocky start.
crawled back into
that dark space,
requiring new
documentation.
these are the parts
I don't like.
New December,
why do I hold no
ideals for you?
I am done wishing
for me, only me.
suppresssuprresion
suppressionsupress
all those things I
thought might
mean something,
might be something.
past reactions
determine future
actions.
and I return to my
old mantra:::
i don't i'm done.

New December 1: transcending traffic.

already frozen fingers
feel chillier as i trace
pictures in the fog on
my windshield while
idling in the traffic of
an accident.
taillights bathe me in
a red haze, exhaust
clouds my vision.
my car blends in with
the New December sky.
i am not here. i am gone.
i am invisible. unseen.
i cast my thoughts to the
street&give myself up to
this calming beat.

up too late {morning/evening}

my ribcage is sore.

breakfast was

not enough,

not finished.

i poured the

rainbow pieces

down the drain

& watched them

wash away.

my ribcage is sore.

sleeping was

not enough,

not finished.

i curled up on

a couch&closed

my eyes, drifting

into darkness.

because it's true.

you got angry.
said you wish you could
thrown my phone against a wall.
so go ahead. do it.
i didn't pay for it.
but really i say:::
there's no one for me to
talk to here.
you said, i'm here.
and i looked at you
then replied:::
you're just standing there.
you aren't talking to me.
so you walked away.
i didn't feel bad
because
it's
true.

remain motionless.

remain motionless.
shut your eyes
and you can hear.
hear the noises that
aren't
really
there.
some static.
some music.
some voices in
the
distance.
move, and alertness will
be restored-----------
it's gone.
you have to
settle back into that
drowsy state of delirium.
now lay down.
face the wall that you
cannot see through the
veil of your eyelids,
and go to sleep.

a pleasant french brunch.

today i finally learned the difference between
love and in love.
so now i'm okay with her saying she
loves me. because i realized that
i am no longer in(the course of falling in)love
with her. ((if i ever was))

shimmery mess.

cold air hovers at my
calves. the world is
turning into a shimmery
mess, the ground is
no longer solid, stagnant.
it moves, curls, curves,
turns, breaks and
swells with every new drop.
drop.........drop....
drop it::: all those fantasies.
shhhhhh, let the sounds
take it away, take them away.
two beats clash and
chords dissonate, resonate.
beat&beat by beat---
drumming strumming
dripping slipping
it doesn't fit, it shouldn't fit
shouldn't should not.
but. it. does.
sliding into each other:::
music&rain, collaborating
to keep me sane.

11.22.09.

the walls are green.
the ceiling has sunshines on it.
there is a window to my right.
posters&mirror in front of me.
my arms are around a teddy bear...
i am in my room.
not a poorly wallpapered,
rocky ceiling hotel room.
i wish...more than life,
more that anything...
that i could go back.

10.4.09.

sunlight slices in
a slight curve
onto my bed; feet;
arms; fingers and
that's it.
the rest are small
shadows hiding
what lies beyond.

like all other walls, facades are easily broken down if you have the right tools...

Heres they way I see it--

There is a social scene made up of multiple multitudes

Of charming, cunning, carefully crafted individuals

Their façades are unprecedented and so very well presented

You'd almost never know they were faking it

slip-ups shift into clever cover-ups

that stay down for days

but scandals and secrets are always riding on the tips of their lips

law of conservation

the smell of smoke is embedded in my fingerprints,

each grove, swirl and whorl contains a fragment of fire.

i tried to burn so much more than twigs and paper.

i hoped to rid myself of the regrets, fears, and

words i do not have the courage to say

by dousing every pen soaked sheet with a

dose of fire, gently placing the page on an ember.

first heat, then brown seeps across the white

and flames create glowering ashes.

but i do not feel resolved.

because matter cannot be created

or destroyed.

i worry.

i am in my adventure outfit.
i feel cool because there are no
labels (to be seen.)
i am not hiding behind my hat
today. no. not today.
i wander through bookshelves.
i see groups of people, friends.
studying. not reading.
i see a couple in the stairwell.
he's up against the wall,
she doesn't have her shoes on.
when i walk up they shift.
so i can get by.
and i worry.
i worry that i will never
have someone to read with
up against the wall in
barnes and noble, and that
i will always be sitting alone
in a corner.

my forest adventure.

merely a mist of a memory (don't know why I can't get this to be not white. was not intentional

all the bravado is gone

i am left with words that

may {or may not} still have meaning.

i don’t know how to reach her.

how to make her listen.

last leap left me longing for

another chance. but

i can’t go back and say

put down your phone.

put down the covers.

sit up and look at me.

look at me, for once.

look at me, please.

that night is gone,

merely a mist of a memory,

lingering softly in the archives

of my failures and faults.

business as usual (8.4.08)

if you asked i would tell
but your mouth has been busy
so instead you can read all about it...

I need you in ways that i don't understand
where i can cope, even when you say those things you always do
that cut just below the surface
you know, i always have been good at pretending
But my selfish tendencies have caused one major flaw in this dependency--
I need you more than you need me
Others pretend,
they move fast and fake to make you a part of their glamorous Social Scene
before all of you gets used up
well, glamour kills
and it slithers just as surreptitiously as those sly social scenesters
so watch your back

fake it till i make it (7.18.08)

If it's not apparent already to you
If you really can't see what this is doing to me
Let me make it simple
And spell it out a little… BIGGER and bolder for you---
I can only cope
[and by only I mean barely]
by suppressing the words you say
and hiding them away
somewhere deepanddark
…but…
sometimes… they sneak out
sometimes… they come back loud and clear
so what I do
what I do is I
fake it
fake it till I make it
through
where
I'm not me
But you're still you
And sometimes… it works
Sometimes… it doesn't
"numbing the pain for a while
will make it worse when you
finally feel it"
so I will sit
and recall
but honestly
I'd rather fake it till I make it—Like you

fuck if i know

it's funny, because you do know.
and i know you know because
i. told. you. so.
but by all means, continue to pretend.

small world.

it seems the world is a small place after all
though it seems quite large and daunting
so many secrets and silent stories
sit still in our brains,
settled {somewhat} calmly in the social scene
but they become restless as we sleep
scaring scores of sweet dreams away
steering illusion of comfort astray
some train love to stay
sometimes their love goes the other way
(so inclined not to have the right words to say)
stand closer.