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[17 Apr 2003|03:21am] |
i'm not as kind as you think. i'm not as bitchy as you think. i'm not as narcissistic as you think. i'm not as self-conscious as you think. i'm not anything you think, because i don't show enough to allow you to think a single correct thought. i am leery of the world. i trust no one and because of this, no one should trust me. no apologies. though i feel apologetic as fuck right now.
sunshine and breakfast alone made me smile. i forgot. now i am here and i forget how to smile.
things are changing. i am catching myself with unfamiliar words on my lips. this is the only way i ever know for sure that i am changing. i am not a liar. i will not become a liar. a moment. yes. a week. no.
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[07 Apr 2003|10:26pm] |
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you say boyfriend, i say boyfriend. i'll use the label if you want me to fuckface, but just remember, labels can mean whatever you(we) want them to. don't talk about what you don't know. i realize there's been some damage done. not worth it? to who, you? worth it to me, and that's all that fucking matters in my world. call me selfish, because i am.
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[06 Apr 2003|07:02pm] |
we're a happy family, me, scott, and ashley! tra-la-la. may bed pissings and girl kissings never break up our happy destructive home.
spring forward, bleh, it's already 7:00. the fog is still dense and my paycheck is small. i'm in need of a hard, disciplinary spanking.
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[06 Apr 2003|05:01pm] |
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music |
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ash's samples....always |
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tequila makes the heart grow fonder, or maybe it's my holes that expanded, not my heart. call me retarded, i'm a mindless piece of shit today. ms. i-will-destroy-you lives up to her name. 2 alcoholics with minds that think alike and an army of dumb motherfuckers with pockets full of andy jacksons. i spent the last 24 hours contemplating normalcy, even achieving it with the least normal of them all, only to become 1/3 yet again, possibly losing any chance of ever white-picket-fencing with the weirdo, my (so called) weirdo. 1/3 and potentially all lost quicker then i can mouth the word of the evening....cunt. (ha, too bad for you sweetheart, but i have to admit, it's cute when you get jealous) you'd think i'd learn my lesson, not that there was much of a lesson to be learned. if anything, i've learned how jealous and self-conscious i am not. who woulda thunk it. yeah, i enjoy these experiences, yet my inner mom bellows and begs for me to settle the fuck down and fall in love. fall in love like lloyd dobler. then what, then what the fuck kid, you gonna forget all you know from one of 2 las vegas choices? you gonna play good and ignore what they taught you. maybe. maybe one day. maybe today. what's the circumstances. who's got the alcohol. not you, not me. good. let's go to the zoo and pretend like we give a shit. if i can learn one habit, i can learn another.
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[04 Apr 2003|03:32am] |
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2 hands in 1 hand out. all with flames burning like my newfound cunt. mwaaaaa-haaaaa-haaaa. the best moment when you so nonchalantly placed your palm upon my knee. holding everything in place. ev..er...y...thing. las vegas baby. las vegas sweetheart. fucking las vegas. let's get married with velvet underground in the background, powder on my lips, and kat, that metal fucking bitch, on your tits.
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[04 Apr 2003|03:18am] |
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used vinyl in the record store. you know the ones, the one's you see all the fucking time. yeah, that's what i am, perfect irony. you love'em you got'em you giv'em away once they've become exploited, tainted, monotonous. give it then recollect about 2 5 10 years from now when a single track appears in a single moment. fuck you.
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[03 Apr 2003|02:43am] |
where's that fucking movie we rented.
guitar playing arms.
days where you don't leave to flip bacon and holeless cheese.
her words are astounding and understandable.
coke, you have it, but you don't want it all the time?
the bridge, the traffic, and the surreality of day.
cig--ar--- rettes.
going steady with more then just you. meaning every(thing) i can get my hands on.
soft, wispy, rooster ridden hair.
good morning.
good night.
vegetarian omelettes on sunday morning(so long, farewell, the sound of muuuuuuuuusic, aw uh aw, aw uh awwwwww).
the tip, the tap, the toes up the steps.
triscuits, not for nibblers.
fuck youing and a halle-fucking-lu-jahhing back and forth, at and away.
joey, that you? tell me about it, question me. go ahead, make my day.
oh matt evans where are you, wherever are you. i knew once what i know now. you are the originator and i am begging to know why. let's be homeless again.
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[03 Apr 2003|02:03am] |
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when does it end...or should i say start. every night's the same yet different. persona number one. you ask questions. look concerned. finger my flesh. speak of me and you as if we are a prosperous, cocaine ridden cock. i believe i believe. i never believe. yet with persona number one i can hug religion with a limp ferocious arm (xoxoxo). each night i am wearing a fur lined parka, yet frozen, a blue corpse limp within the confinement(comfortability) of unbreakable ice. when will the hula skirts and easter parades reappear. when will my swollen pieces and mysterious(not so) openings be filled(replaced) with sludge and seven year old semen. when will my not-so-old self reappear with a passion for prevalence and decade-long motherfuckers. persona number 12 whispers in my ear explaining how it can never be. i already explored that area. persona number 5. that goofy kid you sat next to in fourth grade, dreamy thoughts of cutey boy chasing your tit deprived body about a gravel floor, falling and scraping your knee, then being awkardly pecked with virgin lips upon knee and inverted slits. i'm sleepy, the x's & o's have lined up one too many times. the lips smile and convulse my silence. rematch rematch. i'm tired of swishing and swaying. farewell hedonist, mankind is making you agree. mt. scott commons. yeah, that's where i used to live.
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[31 Mar 2003|03:25am] |
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suddenly i am replaceable. my actions. it's all my own fault. replaceable by normalcy. replaceable by a cock. something i do not have, but have always wanted. fuck you for not letting me place myself into your world, because you think, you think you fucking want something else. fuck you for allowing yourself into my world when you knew very well that i was not placeable. fuck you. i love you. because i know you're not placeable and i know you are not an asshole, even if you decide to act this way occasionally
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[30 Mar 2003|08:51pm] |
he says i've changed, but i've only repossessed myself.
supreme sex.
my pink, yet deathly body
beside snow white skin.
veins spilling out like children at recess,
birthday eyes gaping at my
translucent face.
my sybarite, my thorn
shut your eyes and tell me
are you happy, are you happy?
my little heart is beating loudly,
yet i can not continue if you are
as happy as you look.
the cigarettes are long.
the glances short.
walk me to the cave.
our cave.
stretch my legs out and call me
soft.
call me home.
she is a white shadow.
i am home.
call me home.
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[29 Mar 2003|04:34pm] |
i miss the memories. a myriad of misplaced moving pictures. can you remember the last time you remembered everything. the details. background songs and the chitter chatter of a meaningless conversation next door. the smell of lysol and charred meat. the taste of jim beam and cum at the back of your throat. the day, the color of day. the feel of the hard, wood chair where i sat my ass. i can't remember the details, the important(?) details. i want to remember every nook and cranny. especially right now.
not happening.
today he leaves me dry(sopping wet). i don't give a fuck. there is so much satisfaction in the action of sucking a hard. red. cock. hard. red. cock. with perfect form. and the (not so)perfect face with perfect full, red lips hovering above, smiling and egotistically eyeballing. hands on head and mouth and head. aggressive, yet such soft, feminine hands. pulling and halting in perfect rhythm, gentle inquisitive pauses. the forceful push to the head, the belch at the back of the throat, the tearful eyes should make me squeak... yet i squeal. the perfect cocktail of sugary sweet naivete and disclosed insecurities, blended with an honesty that's honest enough to show how bad you fucking want it. if only you knew how well you know. there's nothing better. let it be. let it happen. until the nothing. no exit no entrance. the doorway's door less. come on in fuckers. fear makes me fearless.
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[25 Mar 2003|06:00pm] |
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living in the moment. don't think twice it's all right. bullshit, it's all fucking bullshit. it's a complicated thing acknowledging other people's feelings when you're busy living in the moment. my moments are ruining people's lives. i can't change though, i can't fucking change. i know what it's like to think too much about everyone else and not enough about yourself. i lived my mother's life for far too long. if i am not worth it, it will have all been for nothing. i will lose all that i know in this unfamiliar city. i will have brought more pain and insecurities to people who already have an abundance of pain and insecurities. for nothing, all for nothing. because i most likely am not worth it. oh, i'm ok, i know i'm an ok girl. there are a few trinkets here and there i have to offer. but to a certain boy, those good honest boys us girls dream about, i could never be worth it. there are too many people crying, too many people clenching fists, too many people pointing fingers. i want to be worth it. i want to show someone (someone to show me) that i can live in the moment without hurting others. that maybe a moment with you will be enough to open my eyes during future moments. i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm so fucking sorry. i'm even more sorry that i can't say i'm sorry and 100% mean it. i have no regrets. i loved every moment. i escaped a relationship that was fading me because of a single moment where i did not think twice (it's all right). see this is what i'm saying....how many days, months, years, did i question where i was, did i ask myself if what i had was real, what i had was changing me for the better, what i had was good, what i had made me feel good. i planned and questioned and planned and questioned. our moment helped me realize that i didn't feel good at all, even if what i had was good. that i wasn't changing for the better, but instead deteriorating. that it wasn't real, it never was, that i simply accepted all that i knew. i could have taken that moment and questioned and planned and questioned and planned, but i decided to act fast, as always do, to take control as soon as the realization hit me. and i did, in all the right and wrong ways. which gradually lead to today. where i was and could be happier then ever, yet the wrongs are towering over the rights.
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[25 Mar 2003|12:53am] |
and it maybe it was too soon. maybe i simply spoke too soon. home at 9. speaking by 9:15...with a downfall tone "i'm worried"...with an upward tone "but, i'm fearless because i KNOW what i'm doing is RIGHT"
and the rest of the night has been a godless heaven. heaven.
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[24 Mar 2003|08:23pm] |
so yeah, i spoke too soon. one day too fucking soon. too bad you don't believe the ol' knock on wood thingy, may have saved your life beth. or at least your love.
i'll say it again. it's not fair. it's not fucking fair. we're back to week one with awkward phone calls thanks to paranoia churned from false fucking words belched from false motherfuckers. should i come? no. why? i don't know why, every thing's just weird now. don't do this. don't. i can't help it. i don't know what to feel, i don't know what to say. say what you mean, say what you want. i'm sorry, i'm so sorry, but don't please don't come here. if i'm not home by 1:00 i'll call you. i'll see you l a t e r.......
i drink in bars with him. if not with him, i drink in bars alone. during daylight hours, i crave solitude. when the sun fades away and the moon takes it's place, i feel alone. i beg for the comfort of a human hand, face, voice, anything(one) i can procure to stifle the feeling. being in the midst of others doing what i long to be doing.. ,drinking, interacting, communicating, understanding, possibly loving ..teases, yet tames me. i feel as if i could be involved with a flick of the wrist or a single hefty word, even if i never use one of these to my advantage.
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[22 Mar 2003|06:58pm] |
"i must ask you again...is this the last time you won't kiss me?"
funny hearing, reading the exact words you've said so many times before. so many times within the past month. i no longer need to ask now, at least i don't think (no, no, i'm not thinking at all) everything has settled into a still hopeless, yet somehow perfect, peaceful situation. the sweetest boy with the sweetest mouth asking for nothing but my attention. i have his attention finally. and oh lovely boy, does he ever have mine. boys and girls, miracles do happen, oh yes they do.
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| circles, blah blah blah. this is all fucking old news, just ignore me. |
[22 Mar 2003|01:47am] |
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this is either the beginning or the end. i can't decide which. if i make that decision it will all be a lie. a big. fat. fucking lie. like the person inside of you. you betray everyday. i can only live in the moment. it's the only fucking way i can really live. (hey, remember the drugs, the amphetamines, the a-d-d-erol? fuck you dottie.) it's the only way i can live. really fucking live. if he came here and sat down beside me with an overwhelming amount of honesty....would i eat him alive? probably. or not. i don't know. i'll never know. because there is nobody out there to handle my wounds. to keep me alive. to live in my moments. only me. besides, every moment is a lie when you're as honest as i am (how many times have you said that before?) and as day by day as i am. how can you really know who's to say good-bye. give the wink of the encouraging eye. blah, blah blah blah, blah blah blah.....
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[22 Mar 2003|01:43am] |
i'll give you something to write about. if you give it back. reconsider your relentlessness. i said i wanted to be loved. i didn't say how. no matter. you're getting nowhere. and you never will. because i already know your kind.
open the window. let in the malleable. i'd rather jump on the scaffolding with stars in my eyes and wood between my thighs. this disease ain't getting any better with time. and i really don't give a fuck.
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[22 Mar 2003|01:34am] |
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invisible girl. eyes as wide as your attention span. smirk. what the fuck does that mean. nothing, you presume. a face like a foreign movie star. nicole kidman? is that what you said? fuck you. yet invisible. you know it's true. fucking invisible. because i don't have the words. i only have control. as much as i try to lose it. i have it. i can handle the pain, but i can't handle the ridicule. though better then before. just ask me. ask me again. always searching and forever using my face. and filthy lines. because they take them. oh yes, they take them. they keep on taking and i speak, like the foreign actress you see. because i only know how to ask without words. fuck you. yeah, i know you love. i know you share. the same thoughts and feelings and neuroticies. but you are not me. one that can see through the lips that only smile and kiss. and when the room is cold, i'll hug the sheets he left behind. him and he and you. i'll touch the wall where beer spilled the night before and the night before that from a supposedly honest moment. i'll hold my hollow heart (you heard me, you did you fucker) against the only hand that will ever know. i wish you'd see. or her or him or her. i wish you could be. or he or him or her. i wish i could forget what the future holds for me. a voluptuous city with voluptuous girls and my fraility scattered about and above it all.
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[22 Mar 2003|01:26am] |
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james angell (This could be the problem) |
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moving in....it's so different then i imagined. imagination....sleepless night....bedroom changes, constant bedroom changes. where. where do we fuck next? here, there, where, anywhere. i want your lips, your tongue. mine. all mine. yet i lay in a sleepless, yes it's still sleepless, bed. alone. with myself. and only the sex of henry miller's words. commit. not now, not ever. but i need, oh yes i do need attention, love, friendship (most of all), and a big hard cock in my hands, in my hallow vagina. i need soft red lips upon my own, upon my every part. i need a body to lay across. to lay my arm across on all the sleepless nights. i don't miss words. no. i don't i miss his face. no. i don't miss his fun. or lack there of it. i miss the caresses and the nonchalantness of love. what i thought to be love. i miss the acting (acting?) without thinking. i miss the closeness (closeness?), the comfort of a man (or woman) beside me in small bed. i miss i miss i miss. i need. or at least i think i do.
****funny how things change. i feel so far away all the sudden. old news. maybe. future possibly.****
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[25 Jan 2003|04:55pm] |
running freely down a secluded street. not secluded, but out of sight from the eyes that can not see (in more ways then one). i feel free, i feel so fucking free with my arm linked in yours, running, running, running away from it all, running into myself. this is how it should have been, it should have always been. it took him to have you, yet he is taking me away from you. it's not fair. its not fair what's there and i can not have. i never imagined words could mean so much. i see them on paper and i fall in love, i bite and gnaw at their beauty, their meaning. but in spit and breath, in sound and song, i lose faith in the meaning. i can feel the motions, the rhythms, the simple beats, i can listen to words not said, but when the mouth opens wide, there is always that moment, brief or boundless, where i am lost, lost in the sounds of past and presence.
not with you. not with you.
is this why your lips are so very red, why i can finally feel what i've deprived myself of for so very long?
i'm tired of being a mystery, yet i will be to those who i do not 100% trust.
not you. not with you. thank you.
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