Iwhen the grey wolfcomes striking at my door,i will strip him of his cloakand make him a man,naked
ropehang me from the moon,i want to be beautiful
IIhe's greybut only a boystuck at his mother'stit; misanthropistsadist
how to healthey say honeyto soften the wound, but i let the woolwet with ethanolgnawuntil i amweeping,again, and again,and again
stephaniemy sorrowsare not greater than or equal toyour sorrowswe are all plagued by thedistortions of other human beingsit is livingwhen i say that i am okayi do not expect for you to figure outif i am rotting or breathingi simply mean i am acceptingi am walking away from a windowwith a sign that reads,"everything disappears"because i have realizedthis happened to me, and that is okay
on being savedi am sorry youhave never known salvationfrom another's touch
note 48i've hit the partwhere you say'i'm leaving' andi don't ask youto stay
thankheaven for books,and mulatto boys thatbreak my heart; thank god for vodka andthank god for urges that slither into deep throatspast better judgement and thank god for his handsthat he lovedme with
inflicti opened up the earth andstole your breath before we could do ityou and ifell in hard a couple of chicken legssprawled and brokenat the bottom and you told meto climb to the moon if i'mso eager to die but instead i crawled to you'til your brow, all six stories andjust when you thought you'dget some sleep i went in you, enamored--you were great but iwas better
riddance.and lately i've found myself swallowing matchestrying to burn my insides for funto distract myself from missing you so much.its not working.
Oceanic Love Does Not Mean ForeverI do not want you to tell meof crooked smiles and offshoremoonbeams woven with nightingalewords. You are living inafter memories. You have forgottenI will live in a way that's unorthodox.I only want for youto be lonely and small,but it's for your own good, you know.Breathe it in, hold it in, hold yourselfbetween each of your heartbeats.Change because some things arelike estranged runaways caught betweenthe tilt of the earth.I was the ocean in youand you didn't understand.
note to self.dear me, stop loving the boy with the aquamarine eyes and the irregular heartbeats.he's a kleptomaniac and he's stealing your breaths(like he stole your heart to replace his failing one)because his lungs are full of smoke and cobwebbed sadness and you're exhalingstardust and dreams. he stole a little bit more of your sun showered soul each time he gave you oneof his starshine kisses(a fair trade, i think)and he could've slit your throat with his razor-edged smile each time he plantedhis lips on your collar bone but he spared your life because it meant somethingto him(then, anyway).[i think he'd like to watch you die because your last words would still be iloveyou.] from, me
Ain't nobody happyAin’t nobody happy if momma ain’t happy - (nobody's happy if anybody's unhappy)Happiness - made of delicate lacewoven by century-old spiders,instantly unwinding with the first light breeze.We must all carefully tend to our strand,our gossamer thread, lost in the tapestrysingle knuckle capable of destructionwith one twitch.
Tick tickHe could hardly breatheBut his heart was still beating A broken rhythm A Phsycotic tempo Beat Beat Beat Beat....He didn't know the timeBut he still heard the seconds go by Swirling around him Something was saying His time was over Tick Tick Tick Tick...He didn't have wingsBut he was flying away I couldn't catch him The wind carried him away From me His hands Were cold and bloody Drip Drip Drip Drip.....And he bled Dripping in tempo with the clock It struck twelve Like knifes and swords And he bled Away Tick Drip Tick Drip Tick.... Drip.... Tick... Tick.... Tick.....
Take me homeyou live in me,cancerous white noise,high tide of danger.you consume me,oceanic burial ground,reddened memories,love-making stranger.
note 32 i am so terrified