| I still do. |
[Jun. 4th, 2008|11:04 pm] |
I washed the sheets
repetitively
along with my favorite shirts
that you claimed as yours,
but that didn't work.
I flipped the mattress
and took the photos off the wall
and changed my number
so I didn't confuse every missed call
as you.
Still unable to forget,
I bought a new bed, clothes --
house --
Still unable to forget. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jan. 28th, 2008|12:57 am] |
I'm certain of what I'd say if I saw you, granted if the conversation would arise:
I've lost most of my faith in the possibility of us.
I've lost my faith in you.
If you could know how much -- How highly I held you, Sarah Jo,
Maybe then you'd know
how much I hurt when I say such words.
Realistically, there was little probabilities between us.
We were the ending of Pi.
But Hope can do so much.
Hope can do so much.
Hope can do too much.
I read through older ramblings, and I realized that it's been about three years since we last spoke.
How can I still feel much the same?
How can I love the blade of the guillotine?
But I do.
I stare at your photo and I miss your scent, your moles, your you.
Remember -- Anything?
How can I love the guillotine? |
|
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 20th, 2007|07:52 pm] |
| [ | music |
| | In the Sun - Michael Stipe | ] |
Before I even walked through the door, I noticed her.
Light brown hair, high-lighted.
5'3"
120lbs.
Fuck.
But she was 5'2" and 102lbs.
This can't be she.
Fuck me.
Fuck writing this.
And fuck you for being in my mind this long. |
|
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 9th, 2007|11:29 pm] |
i lean out this window,
edging ever so closer
to loss of balance,
smoking my last night's drag.
peering out on tip-toe
watching ashes flutter
as butterflies would dance
slow spirals to the ground
.....and the muse has left. |
|
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| Leaving Las Vegas |
[Jul. 17th, 2007|03:57 pm] |
Sometimes, I wonder what it'd be like to leave.
I'm too scared to go-
and too filled with hope to let go. |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 30th, 2007|11:27 pm] |
½ bottle of vodka, ¼ of rum and sitting around having fun, one would think I'd be in a good mood; I'd be happy, but I'm stuck in the same rut. Your ghost won't leave me. Bliss fails to exist even when ignorance runs rampant.
Fuck me. |
|
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| Moving on-- |
[May. 21st, 2007|09:31 pm] |
Text from Kristy, "You deleted everything off my itunes"
"All I did was download a few songs with a completely different program"
"It's ok, I'm not mad"
"Yea, it is ok, I didn't do anything"
Dirty look.
Don't fucking blame me for something you have no fucking clue what you're talking about. Sorry, I'm not going to accept blame for it either.
So, Adam I guess isn't going to be a prick. He actually came and talked to me today, which kind of was uncomfortable to be honest, because I haven't talked to him in a few days. Hell knows when the last time he trekked the extra ten feet to my open door to talk to me was. He said he decided not to figure out how much to charge me per-day after the first of June. Wasn't that nice of him. Maybe he finally figured that it's not everybody else's fault for once. Weird. It usually is the world against him. |
|
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| Happy Birthday |
[May. 21st, 2007|09:20 pm] |
I gave a wish to a nickel
and tossed it into the wind
closing my eyes tight
and wishing with all my might
as it glided in a spin,
"I hope you're happy." |
|
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| Am I Wrong? |
[May. 20th, 2007|11:28 pm] |
The other day I told Adam I may be moving out. I expected some sort of resent to reveal itself towards me immediately, but I was wrong. I guess he only talks behind my back, like a true friend. I was relieved to know he didn't hate me and understands that it's what is best for me, but I more enjoyed the fact that I'm not stuck here much longer.
I told him to sell this piece of shit a long time ago.
Was it wrong that I acted apathetic, when inside (and around the corner) I was pumping my fists with victorious joy?
Today, Kristy sent a text and a short, personal conversation pursued:
"When are you moving out?"
"I still don't know. Why?"
"Just wondering. We should all hang out before you do."
"I'm not moving to Utah."
"Fuck you then."
We've lived together for almost a year. Me moving out suddenly prompts a desire to hang out and be friend-like? Sorry, I don't have fears of abandonment, I just moved on when I was left alone.
But she was with Adam, and knowing the both of them, she doesn't really care that I'm moving out, because she wants to too. Adam is just too much of a bitch to ask himself, because he only texts me when he needs money. I asked if he wanted me to stay for at least a month or so, but he didn't answer. So, I'm not lease-bound, and I did the friend thing and asked.
We found an apartment for $900/month and that includes utilities. Sweet Nectar. Now we just have to get it. |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 8th, 2007|02:13 pm] |
I wrote this and thought it was suitable.. but after reading through a few times, I can't stand it. I just need to hide it somewhere and come back to it another day.
Chances are I'll forget about it entirely though.
( I was born, and so, I lived-- ) |
|
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 28th, 2007|10:50 pm] |
| [ | music |
| | Smashing Pumpkins - Jupiters Lament | ] |
Remember when I called you?
Drunk?
Around 3 A.M.?
I attribute that foolish call to how we began to become 'us.'
I almost called tonight.
It seems that I can't remember your number.
I can't entirely remember why I loved in the first place.
I fail to remember how I stopped exactly.
I do see why I could never again.
I don't understand how I can miss you.
But I do.
I do.
I would have said so, too.
But my alcoholism kicks in much earlier now.
I don't even reach 1 A.M.
I pass out before then.
Reaching into voids between pillows for your ghost.
Grasping the nothingness that was always there.
I never understood what I held then.
But I do now.
I do.
I would have said so, too. |
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| It's nights like these-- |
[Apr. 10th, 2007|10:38 pm] |
I wonder what you'd say--
if you saw me?
What would you say,
girl who spoke my name
in a most gentle way?
Fuck. It sounded better in my head.
Ya know? When the conversation was still goin'?
And my thoughts escape me.
And I'm gone.
Oh yes, I'm gone
So long, gone, gone.
Long gone.
What would you say? |
|
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 28th, 2007|10:26 pm] |
"Shhh--"
He whispers
as he suckles the barrel of the gun.
"They'll know what I have done."
So he quietly
chugs.
Each bullet consuming him
as he revisits old friends,
old means and a forgotten end.
He whispers woeful words,
"Shhh--"
Watching memories,
vibrant misconceptions of reality,
but as memories go,
as real as the tv shows
watched by a five year old.
"Shhh--"
Empty chambered and slurred;
visions missing and blurred,
He talks to shadows
"I've been fine without you"
Like the glass of the photograph
shattered to the floor
and the plaster, whole no more,
he lies proned
"Shhh--" |
|
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 13th, 2007|09:46 pm] |
I once talked to a man, a Wiccan man, about dreams, and how they are more than what they seem. He told me things I could not belive, and if he told you, I don't think you'd stand in different shoes. He described a form of travel that can only exist courtesy of the mind. He told me I could go almost anywhere in no time. John (let's call him John although I cannot recall his name for sure) explained, the mind can find ways through the world that the flesh cannot. He said it was because flesh is flesh, and mind is energy. He said, "It's in your dreams you can go. You may not believe me, but it is so." To the dreams of other wanderers of the night. But I did not believe, although he told me he often saw me lost in the world of dreams. I would pass through without causing a scene. Searching for something, oblivious to my surroundings. He would tell how he would try to reach me to be my guide. He said he failed, but at least he tried.
I don't dream much, at least not that I can recall when I wake, but when I do I have memories I wish I didn't take. They're often of you. Without reason or cause, I find you in my mind, but all I wish to discover is sleep. I wake with memories I'm forced to keep. Do you wake to the same? Are you lost? Do you find me and wake to discover what was lost? Do you wake with a hole inside you that devours your spirit? Do you cry when all you try to do is tell yourself it's not real? Are you going insane for reasons you cannot, would not, dare not explain? Are you just like me? Or is it just me?
Is it just me tapping away at this keyboard? Insane? |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 13th, 2007|12:26 pm] |
| [ | music |
| | songs no one has the courage to write | ] |
how do you still find me? even in dreams--
nightmares of reality that can no longer be.
stumble on a new mind to haunt, mine is gone from me,
so i beg of you, let it free.
it need not be returned, but it must not be yours to keep.
why must you torment me? release my soul!
free me from your control.
it was years ago, but still i'm locked in your hold.
forgive me my love and please let me go.
in my heart, you're still held dear,
but in my mind i'm a prisoner of my fear
and of all that was said and done here.
in this bed where, i can find no peace;
i long for sweet, tempered release. |
|
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 13th, 2007|11:58 am] |
in my sleep i saw you. you cried for what was lost, and you even cried for what was gained. i commiserated with you. i even opened my arms and held you again.
why does my mind infiltrate the only place i find peace with such--
i wish i could just sleep. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jan. 2nd, 2007|04:32 am] |
*67 + ten more numbers = the hope to hear your voice
even if it's just the message on your machine
the hope to hear your voice > the desire to speak
---
fool! wretched being!
how are you content to be?
fool! wretched being.
can you not see the hair-line fractures
that my mind can conceive?
---
it angers me so that i must keep a still tongue.
iit fucking pisses me off. cheaters claiming to love. fucking pisses me off.
---
sorry. |
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| my head is broken. |
[Dec. 7th, 2006|09:44 am] |
| [ | music |
| | Counting Crows - A Long December | ] |
just the insides.
with my mind set on a certain task, i'm fine. it's the time in-between when i'm lost.
i start a new job monday.
i'm still waiting on hollywood.
time for sleep. |
|
|
| i miss atlantis |
[Nov. 17th, 2006|01:31 am] |
first---
let me be honest, because i couldn't before. i'm not ready for you, or anybody else for that matter.
i can't devote any part of me to anybody but myself, and every part of me is lost
every part of me is searching for the rest of me.
what could i offer you, if i have not even myself?
nothing.
second--
there is no second, just a continuation of all else.
but i try to break it down. tear it into comprehensible fragments, and maybe if i try hard enough, just maybe, i can complete a tapestry of sense once again.
the delicate rhythm of your torso and hips that -- never mind the rest. i just miss the rhythm.
thousands of sounds that only belonged in our ears, intelligible to our foolishly brave mind alone.
mind -- singular -- at times, it seemed there was only one.
now, the obvious kills.
the trust of a commitment to no commitment other than one to trust of the unspoken.
perhaps it should have been spoken.
sweet; ignorant; beautiful; nonprejudicial; untamed; uncontaminated; oblivious; glorious bliss.
come home.
i still wait for you, peeping through the shutters now and again. |
|
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| I never really existed anyway |
[Oct. 10th, 2006|01:18 am] |
| [ | music |
| | blank page - the smashing pumpkins | ] |
I don't understand why I pick the scabs. Is it to see that I still bleed? To see that underneath the calised tissue, soft pink tissue still exist? That I'm not as hardened to the reality of the past as I'd like to believe I am?
I miss you, and I don't know why.
It's been.. I don't really know how long it's been, because, afterall, we were what? "Just friends" as you claimed to have always wanted.
I'm sorry for many things.
God, I miss you.
I let the wounds heal, each time more then the previous. Each time, I peel it away like the wrappings of a cheap gift. Anxious to see what's hidden, but hesitant to see what I'm sure to find.
I'm sorry for a very many of things.
I stare at photographs, trying to decipher the smile; looking for clues as to what's hidden behind. I never really knew what lied beneath in the first place, did I? How would I even pretend to convince myself that I do now?
I'm sorry for all I never did.
I wish I could call, just to laugh and say I'm fine. I wish you'd call, just so I wouldn't answer. Or maybe, I would and pretend to be surprised.
I'm sorry for all I've done.
I've forgotten the purpose of this journal, and I've hidden from it for almost the same reasons I've abandoned the others. I'm grateful for those that read, but I cannot apologize for my lack of.. me. I never really existed anyway. |
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