Sometimes I think I have to many deep thoughts in my head
And when they come out the sound like shit and over dramatic.
So I think of ways to rework whats on my mind.
To take one small piece of beauty and focus on it.
Closing a piece here, or opening another . . .

or maybe I think all at once to slow and not at all.
Everything doesn't make sense. but does it have to?
Can't we just let the flowing take us?
Take us where it will?

I'm an idiot and I fancy thoughts to much.
These words and phases flow through my mind at the oddest times
and I find them beautiful.



In worlds with out you . . .

My cold hands . . .

I never left you . . .

I arise burning and virtuous . . .

I do not dream [of you ]anymore . . .

Blah Blah Blah Blah Blabady Blah

I'm begining to think that everything I do is shit.

So why bother doing anything at all?

Just Sleep.

Harlott

Drill inside me.
Don't you understand?
I want you to use me.

I want to feel the pricks
And burns of to much use.
I want you to feel nothing for me
As I do you.

Remain unattached
And floating
Like reflections in mirorless deeps.

Don't romance me.
Don't care
Or call me for days.
I like the numb
That comes
From to much heartbreak.

I like arsenic
And all things bitter.
Staving myself
From all beauty
And 'the loves of me'
It'll only do if it's no good
And worse.

Be fatal
And I'll kiss you
Be sweet if only distantly.
I know what you want
And only I,
I can give it to you.
As close to necrophilia
As a breath.

I'm cold but alive
If that
If barely.
Don't deny
You could push into
My stiff limbs
For hours.

I like it
Or as close to like as
I could come.
You adore
The gray perfect
Of me
Of my nothingness.

No remorse
No attachment
I put to much of me into
these pages
How dull
They seem.
How monotone.

I will learn to lie better
I promise
I will I'm sure
But somehow the words don't mean
Anything.
Now.











.

How Do I Love?

Remember when we were naive
And we said that we'd love forever?
Now I am tired
And sitting here
Watching the rain
Drip, drip, drip,
With the cigarettes
I don't smoke
And the whiskey
I don't drink.

We rode the pendulum
Of emotion
Swinging back and forth
And maybe you meant it
Or you were just bored.
I know I was
And sick of a sort of
Loneliness.

I suppose I should now confess I lied.
But that's only half truth
My emotions don't back up my words
And whatever heart I have is unsure.
Now that I have this
This us
I don't know how to proceed.

How do I love?
There is no book
To learn from
Or role model which I may rob of traits.
So I act,
And I feel that you do as well
We both suit our respective parts
We don't misstep
But the steps that are scripted to us.

But it isn't real
And we both know.
Though we deny it
Waiting for the day
When it will be real.
If it is to come.

We lie
With all honestly
And deceive so sincerely
That maybe our good intentions
Might change this in what it should be
Or could be.
Maybe we'll stop being Casanova
And simple fade
removing all glamor
To you and I.

I'm keeping myself
So when you leave
I won't go with you.

You say I'm not aware of whats going on.

That's true.
But it's ok.
Your world is so awful
I don't wanna be aware of whats going on.

Hope.

Please I want to let you know, but I don't want to speak.
You're destroying me and I love it.
You will kill me if you stop.

I'm so afraid of this.
This is so so dangerous.
I have a safe shell.
Promise me that if you take me from it
You will watch me and protect me.

I know I shouldn't
I know.
Trust has gotten me nowhere
But I want to trust you.
Do you hear me?
I want to make my self vulnerable to you
I am trembling but open.

Please, Please don't be like them.
I am already trusting you not to.

Don't hurt me.
You could
So easily
Already.

Age Worries

19. Who would want to be that age?

19. It seems to old.

It's not a nice age, a certain age,
You can't just breeze into 19.

19. God, How odd.

Just a year to awkwardly be.
It's only acceptable if you're confidant,
If you know where you're going in life.
If it's your first year of collage

But for the rest of us it's agonizing.
A weired obtuse, that fits no where good.

I'm 18 and that's where I'd like to be.

I wasted the best year of my life with you.
And after we broke up
Spent the last half of this one rotting.

I did nothing with my 18.
18 Could be an age of broken deep love
And growing up and creating
Something breathtakingly beautiful
To the beat of never dying
And music pounding on a darkened dance floor,
And purpose.
But I failed to do that.

And now I'll be 19.
It's not perfect, pretty, like 18.
It's not the golden carefree 17.
It's not even a sweet 16.

19.
How awkwardly odd.

The number makes me sick.
19.

Not even completed by 20.
But one final step closer.
By then I'll be hurdled
Into the adult world.

No more young and innocent
And youthfully beautiful
That youth that still clings
To childhood
It's perfection and hope.

20.
Who will want me then?

Nic

I thought about you recently. I don't know why. Then I saw you today, I thought it was a woman at first but then no, it was you. You were with mike (?) that singer from Touching Mrs. Dash. His hair was floating about in it's frizzy way, gauzy in the late noon sun,the kind of light that makes everything look buttery and absolutely meltable. I love that time of day.

I would of waved but I didn't recognize you til it was too late. But I'm kind of glad I didn't. You looked happy in that way that kids do when savoring every last drop of summer vacation, sponging up the warmth and carefree attitude that speaks of sultry nights and heat baked pavement with nothing to do but buy 98 cent slushys from Cumberland Farms and watch your shadow as the sun fries your skin.

So I thought I'd say hi in this sorta anonymous way, while your eyes are growing bloodshot from starring at the artificial light of a computer screen. Maybe your reading this at the brick house (do you still go there anymore?) perhaps your in your house or maybe out somewhere else, the multiple places you could, should, and probably are.

This started out as a comment and now It's a mini essay. My finger hovers on the 'backspace' button to replace this utterly stupid unasked for rambling with a non-discript "hey". But then I think "Hell, . . . . why not?"

Idk. Life

It's worse then I thought.

God, you actually love her.

I want that. I want that love that you have. I want to for once not have to sacrifice myself and leave this battlefield empty handed. Loosing the pieces of me, that once are gone you don't want me anymore.
I've given all my sympathy, all my goodness, all that was pure and right, laid down all beauty and desires for a better life. . . just to have to smile and gather whats left together. To act like it's ok, like I'm fine with it.
I depart head down and feet bare. I don't want this anymore. I have nothing left to give. I have no sacrifice in me that has not already been spilled and pawed over and at last rejected. I cannot love anymore. I haven't the strength.

I hope and I long from some deep dark center of my self. I weep but I whisper it, if only in my head -

Someday I'll find a man that loves me.

I didn't mean it, . . .

. . .What I failed to say.