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[27 Aug 2006|01:17pm] |
there's the doubt reassuring
us but it's
it is
there and present (here)
V
eager to please too eager so you come off as
eager. which is not good because then you look
frightened. moonlight shines wind blows through my window
i shiver always frightened always scared can't shut the window can't move from my
bed.
the next morning;
my shiny ballet flats reflect the sun.
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[26 Jul 2006|02:55pm] |
rumpled, like, yellow
plastic
sometimes i want to run
away and just f
a
ll streaks of blood run down
her
tired arms
pumping life through
heroin
hero.
exhaustion running running
i need a running
partner
who the
fuck
think yer an animal but its
me
whos the ani
mal
ani mated
running always
professional
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| tomike |
[25 Jul 2006|06:08pm] |
empty spaces empty places
6 [six] years, i've
lost count but i feel it's [six]
mixed addiction,
emotion twisted addiction drug;
(crackwhore)
small deceptions carried us along and we were both
so fine with that
faking acknowledgement, we got by alllll
right.
unfinished
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[11 Jul 2006|06:06pm] |
There is a piece of broken clothes hanger lying in my closet. The top, hooked shaped part. It happened when I was pulling off my red county choppers sweater in a hurry. I've always called that sweater my "dirtbag" sweater because that is exactly what it represents. I only wear it when I'm feeling dirty and unkempt and I feel like not caring. The sweater got the particular role because I hate what it represents, the particular repetitive cliche underpriced jeans experts (jacob and lazer co.) brand of knock off bad ass motorcyclist clothing. But I secretly like how it looks on me and so I wear it when I feel dirty and unkempt to inwardly make myself feel a little better, outwardly calling myself a dirtbag at whatever chance I get so people don't take me serious as a poser bad ass motorcycle chick.
Maybe I care too much, maybe not enough, it's all put into perspective some times.
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[10 Jun 2006|11:13am] |
Lines are etched into the floor, prematurely and unwillingly,
brand new and
centuries old, living along side each other, absolute harmony, a perfect
contradiction to everything they represent.
it all works out in the end, doesn't it
this unexplainable balance, an equilibrium
within itself, infuriatingly so
self proclaimed irrational fears dissolving into nothingness and relief, settling on shoulders
great sighs and ho hums and what have you STRIKE ANOTHER LINE
in the floor,
the floor, floor, wearing thin
it always hovers,
the fear
some escape and are lucky
(stupid)
maybe its all tilting,
balance LOST and thank god for that.
unexplainable
relief.
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[27 Jan 2006|11:01pm] |
ticking as if by instict, the grandeur has already been lost
the noise, startling, it becomes necessary that the sound reaches your ears
one more time tick
tick
tick
silence multiplies and the catastrophy lives on
the air is too thick and i'm choking
tick
tick
desolate but unafraid, impassive, uncaring, tick
tick
mahogany
unafraid
tick
silence
tick
thundering down, it smothers
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[23 Jan 2006|08:51pm] |
i'm gonna buy a house
and paint it all black
and i'll twist the insides
till they're green with envy
surreptitiously leaving their tracks in the mud
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[23 Jan 2006|05:02pm] |
I've already left my mark
they've all seen what there is to see
it's been fun but what else is there
All of my hopes and dreams are slowly retreating into the back of my mind
I'm losing it
I'm blacking out
I wish somebody would call me back
so sorry
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[20 Jan 2006|10:09pm] |
Creativity is such a fickle thing,
coming at the worst of hours, hitting me hard so that I am intoxicated with it's presence
I can't stop the flow from my mind to the paper until the last few thoughts have leaked out
and my mind can be at peace with itself for being heard
Very often the creativity valve is blocked
try and foce it out and you have nothing but empty words on blank paper
cheesy poetic cliches that the select ignorant few think are clever
i know they are not
it's better to say nothing
and mean it
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