(no subject)
Nov. 14th, 2009 | 01:59 am
I always couldn't understand it, the different outcomes of how our past had allowed us all to become such different people. The failed relationship, the temper tantrum marriage, the ups and downs, we all swallowed the same bullshit but it tasted so differently to each one of us and it came back out so opposit. She grew tall and shallow empty eyes and hallow bones guliable believeable slender and calm like a pond, and boy did she cry enough tears to make her very own pond. Emma for forever ago. She decided to believe in love and always ACCEPT it, to hold out for it and to constatnly throw her self into the arms of admirable admirers even though deep down I think me and her and I, we all knew scum. It's called reading between the lines, maybe she decided to ignore them, she knew. But i think she just wanted love so bad, it was enough. It was ok, if even for awhile. It took her twenty one years, twenty one years before I heard her say that love, love doesn't really ever work out. I maintained this mentality since birth. Why? My mother thinks it's because I was born at the time where the well of love had dried out and all there was was hate. So I learned to hate and I hated good. Men, places, things, spots, objects that gave me no good god damn reason to hate. But I hated and I hated them good and I let them know. So when love came knocking at my door, I didn't answer I sent it to my sister, told them I was out and escaped through the back door down the steps past the springs tulips over the fence and into the passengars seats of boys who had more notches on their bed post than casanova ever had. I didn't believe in love, I never would fall in love. Why? So it could end and I would have to sit there having myself gawking and giggling pointing fingers saying, Well fuck now didn't we go and tell you so, long before your umbilica cord was cut girl you knew. It was programmed into you before you even had the chance to decided if you did or if you didn't. And none, not a god damn anyone will ever prove me wrong or right. Our bouncing baby boy came home into a family that was fakin, so maybe that's why he is always wakin and bakin. He grew tall and structured with the tendancies of daddy, smoke this smoke that, pop that pull that, circle jerk, common intrests, destruction, build destruction build, he couldn't care less. And this is what I think, but I've hated these people these strangers all my life. Like I hate those inatimate objects, I hate them for no reason but just because I can. So maybe she started believing long long ago that love doesn't work out but was far to afraid to prove me right, to let me know, because maybe she knew she was my last hope for believing and she wasn't ready to stop, and maybe he is nothing like him, because he doesn't have his receding hair line or his manly bubble butt. And maybe they're all so much stronger than I'll ever be, because at least they're trying, the efforts being made. So maybe I just don't know this people at all, but what I do know. IS YOU ARE NOT IT
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You
Oct. 5th, 2009 | 06:38 pm
You know someone...
Or you think you do. How do you know when you really know someone? How do you know when that person has let you in, really in, all the way in so that you're comfortable and secure and happy and ready for anything? Do you know enough? Do you know just enough to get by? How much do you want to know? When he looks at you and says the last thing you ever expected to hear-- are you shocked? Or does it intrigue you? Do you want to know more or less?
You meet someone...
And even though you just met, you feel this history, this sense of belonging, this sense of togetherness that you don't usually have with people. Maybe you can talk to her for hours and you forget the time. Maybe you talk despite the time. The two of you laugh and order another drink and end up late for everything. But it's all worth it. The time you spend together is worth any amount of inconvenience later. Because it feels like you've been missing out. You just met this person, but you were supposed to have known each other for years now. That's the only thing that makes sense. So you have all of this catching up to do because it feels like you screwed up by not meeting sooner. You missed out. You missed out on the fun.
You know someone...
You've known them forever. You know how they work, how they think. You know what he's going to do before he does it. You know all of her jokes before she gets to them. You know that scar right under his earlobe, you know the name of the dog that did it and you know why it was his own fault it happened. You know the songs that make her cry. You both look at each other whenever you hear the words "Katie Couric." No one else knows, but you two know. You know when she's going to cry. You know when he's in the other room crying. He knows you know. He just doesn't want you to see him. There's a quiet understanding between the two of you. A gentle reminder of each other, like when you visit your parents and the same stair creaks under your feet. A reminder that something larger than you remembers you, knows when you are around.
Someone meets you...
And you assume that they couldn't possibly know you. You haven't given him enough time. She seems too busy. You are too busy, perhaps. Maybe that person surprises you with a gift in the mail. A message on your voice mail. You bump into each other at the store. And she asks how your cat is doing. You forgot that you told her about your cat's cough. It's almost nothing to you now, but she's been thinking about it. Someone outside of your world has been thinking about your world. You've made an impression. You are a part of them. You let them in. Or maybe you don't. Maybe all of this attention makes you uncomfortable. Maybe you decide you don't have enough time. Not this time. Not this person. Everything didn't come together just right. Maybe he reminds you of an old boyfriend. Maybe she reminds you of an old teacher you had. She has a funny laugh. He wears too much cologne. She keeps shortening your name when you hate being called that. You've even told her. Maybe he seems too perfect. Maybe you know if you know him much longer you will fall in love and you don't want to fall in love or you're already in love and he will just be temptation. Maybe she already is friends with your friends, or is friends with people you can't stand. Perhaps you just don't want to put in the time. Sometimes you can be selfish. This is one of those times. Or not. Sometimes you get closer despite you trying to stay away.
Someone knows you...
And you can say anything without fear of judgement or punishment. You can wear whatever in front of him, or nothing at all. You can laugh your stupidest laugh-- she's heard it before. You can discuss the things you're ashamed of. You can talk about how for some reason you can't stand people who aren't from France but act like they were born in Paris. You don't even know anyone like that. You hate the idea of that. You don't tell anyone that because you sound like a moron, you know you do. But you can tell him that. And he just smiles, hands you your coffee and makes a joke about fake frogs. You laugh. A good laugh. A calming laugh. Because you are safe. You are with someone who knows you. She will be honest with you. She'll tell you when you really did get a bad haircut. When everyone else tilts their heads and says, "No, it's really good," she'll sneer and pull you into her apartment and tell you you can live with her until it grows back. She'll lend you a wig. She'll cry for you. He gets you the book by your favorite author when you didn't even know there was a new release. He knows just where you build up tension in your back, and seems to be the only one who can get in there. He puts up with your obsession with ABBA, and he never runs out of coffee. He doesn't smoke your brand of cigarettes, but always remembers to pick up a pack for you when he's out. He doesn't hide things from you. He talks to you. He listens to you. He has a way of holding your hand that makes you shiver. He can ignite your entire body just by brushing his fingertips between your shoulder blades.
You love someone...
And it is the hardest and most rewarding thing you've ever done. You ache with love. You cry sometimes, because you know two things. You know that you've never felt this good and happy before. You also know that it couldn't possibly last forever. You want it to. You want it frozen. You want to stop time, right there, as she hands you your toothbrush, or as he pulls you back from the curb of the street for one last kiss goodbye. You want to be able to pull them closer than the hug, into your body, so you can keep the smell of them inside you, next to you, all around you. You hear him make jokes in your head. You sometimes see her in other people. You once followed a girl at the airport for fifteen minutes because you thought maybe it was her, maybe she had just changed her hair or something. Even when you were sure it wasn't her anymore, you kept following her, hoping that because you wanted it to happen enough, she'd change into the woman you wanted to see. You love someone and it hurts. You love someone and it's very very good. You feel better about yourself. You feel better about people, life, animals, the color orange. You find yourself thinking about things that she loves that you can't stand. You search the Internet for three hours to try and find a Stevie Ray Vaughn poster. You aren't even sure of one Stevie Ray Vaughn song. It doesn't matter. It's not for you. It's to make him smile. It's to let him know you were thinking of him. You find yourself doing ridiculous things. You wouldn't tell anyone what you've been doing. You cleaned under the bookcase for her. There's no way that she's ever going to see under there. She couldn't possibly know. But you know. Just in case. It could happen. You could end up in a passionate embrace by the CD player and she'll pull you down to the ground and you just want to make sure it'll be perfect. If you die right there with her, it will be clean. It will be clean for her.
You love someone...
because you always have. That's all you've ever known. Even when you're angry, you love them. It's not a passionate love, it's a deep protective love. And when that person is hurting, when that person needs you, what do you do when they don't want you around? What do you do when the person you love is the kind of person that doesn't want to be seen when they're in pain? Do you leave when they push you? Do you stick around? Do you tie yourself to the door frame and declare that they will have to kill you first before you walk away? Do you leave quietly, and let them have what they want? Is it dignity? Is it better? Isn't it going to leave so many things unsaid? Do you do what they want, or do you do what you want? Are you being selfish if you ignore their wishes? And if they don't want you around, if they can't have you in the room, if they can't speak to you anymore-- does that mean that you aren't loved back? You don't think that's the case, you're pretty sure that isn't the case, but it doesn't stop the whispering ones in your head that tell you that you aren't good enough. The voices that tell you you've fooled yourself again. The voices that want you to give up. You love someone and maybe that person needs you. Maybe they don't know how to ask. Maybe you don't know how to offer. Maybe you've never done that for each other. You keep quiet. You keep to yourselves. You give a quiet punch on the arm and a "You know, if you need anything," but no one has ever asked for help. No one has ever looked at the other and said, "Please stay here with me. Talk to me." It would almost seem like you're changing the dynamic of your relationship to do it now. But who else will do it? Should someone do it? Who makes the first move? You love someone and you feel frozen. You can't make the first step. You don't know how. You've never done it. You don't want to make the wrong move.
You think you know someone...
Because you've got a history. Or maybe you have a roundabout way of knowing each other that makes you appear to be closer than you are. Maybe you both act like great friends because it's easier. It's easier than ignoring each other. It's easier than declaring things dead. Maybe you know this person more than you want to. Maybe this man keeps coming up in your life. You move, you change cities, you change jobs, you bump into each other again. That happens, sometimes. You aren't even close, you just keep getting thrown together. You see him all the time on busses. Always a bus. Never a plane. And you've already made your decision about how this person fits into your life. Maybe he's just a peripheral friend. Maybe he's not a friend at all. Maybe you keep forgetting his name. But you had one evening or one lunch or one weekend where you most definitely decided that he wasn't going to be a friend. But you keep running into him. Does that mean you're supposed to be closer? Is he going to be the one constant in your life? And if he is, is he supposed to be your best friend, or a quiet reminder that you're still the same person going through this big world?
You think you know someone and then they say something or they do something that throws you back. It shuts you up. You can't believe she said that. You can't believe she'd admit that to you. People don't say things like that to people, do they? You find yourself staring at her like that guy that you keep bumping into on the bus. Were you wrong about her? Were you completely wrong about how you labelled her? Does she now look like a new person to you? Do you love her more? Or are you now filled with this sense of pity? Do you respect her more? Do you hate her? Do you still need her? Is she the same person to you? If she looks different, then who wasn't being honest? Did she always show this side of her and you just ignored it, or were you too busy trying to hide things from her that you never saw what she was showing you? You think you know someone and then they show you the opposite. Does it scare you or turn you on? Does it make you sick? Is it fascinating? Do you want to know more?
You know someone...
But there's always more to know. There's more to learn. He always has another story. She's always got another idea. You feel like you'll never have enough time. There's never enough time. Each time you say goodbye or turn out the light or walk home you remember something else you wanted to say, something else you wanted to do. Are you ever going to have enough time? What if you forget some of the things because you never got around to them? How many stories will go untold? What if you never get to ride a roller coaster with her? What if he never asks you to dance? Will you ever meet his parents? Will she still want you to go to Maryland with her next summer? You make plans, you discuss events, you wish for more time. Will there be enough? And as you're checking these activities and stories off this list, as you get to know each other more and more-- does it make it easier or harder? Do you want to know more? Do you want to expose yourself more? Do you share more and more, or do you get worried? Do you start to hide after a while, after you can feel the raw flesh? Does it happen the one time you see him flinch after you tell a story? Does it happen when you find out she slept with your nemesis? Or do you dive deeper into each other? Do you let it go further? Do you welcome the pain because you know it's going to be worth it? Do you tell them everything? And if you do, do you know you're getting just as much back? Can you go too far? Can you be too honest? Do you forgive him when he hurts you? Do you forget about that time she called you boring? What do you excuse to be together? Or does it even matter? Perhaps it's too perfect. Maybe nothing could damage it. Maybe you're the lucky ones that feel too safe to let jealousy and spite ruin what you have together. Maybe you're too busy laughing to ever notice the pain. Maybe the other person just means too much to let anything tarnish it. You know someone and you love someone and you risk everything to be with that person. Are they risking just as much? Do you want them to? You know someone and you let them know you. How much do you want to know? Is there a part where you want them to stop talking? Is there a place where it hurts too much?
You know yourself...
And you know where you can't listen anymore. You know where it becomes painful, too painful. You know your limits. You know when you just can't see someone again. When they've gone too far, or they aren't doing enough, and you end up just exhausted from dealing with her. When he doesn't return your calls and you're talking into nothing, screaming into nothing, when you're hoarse from trying to be heard. Or maybe they just quietly, very quietly, walked over and stabbed you in the heart. Or the back. Or right between the eyes. They waited until your guard was down. Or maybe not. Maybe she knew you were looking. Maybe she did it because you were looking. Maybe she knew how much you thought you knew about her. Maybe you knew enough about her that you should have known better. Maybe you both knew that. Maybe he wanted to see if he could do something you didn't expect. Maybe he was testing his limits. Maybe he wasn't thinking. Maybe he was just trying to know someone else a bit more, just for that instant, just for a little while, just to be known by someone else, to know someone else. Maybe he doesn't want to know you anymore. Maybe it hurts to know you. Maybe all of you are hurting. Maybe she knows that you're thinking about her, but she doesn't want to hear you. She disappears, but makes sure that what she's doing while she's missing will be heard by others. She's still getting to you, even when she's not around. He's still hurting you even when he hasn't said a word to you in years.
You know yourself and you know when you're going to be hurt. You know when you've given someone enough power to hurt you. Maybe you want to take some of that power back. Maybe it's too late. You're hurt. You're hurting. But you don't leave. You get hurt more. You can't stop it. Is it because you feel you deserve it? Is it because you want the pain? It feels very real. You're alive. You know yourself enough to know that you used to like the pain. You used to use it to see how much you were aware. Now it's just a dull throb. Do you stop it? Do you ignore it? Do you do something about it or just wish it away? You know yourself and you know you'll just stand there as he slips away, you'll stand there as they push you out of the room. You'll listen to him when he tells you to go away, even when you don't want to. You might even suggest that you go away, and you'll do it when everything inside you says to stay in that room. You'll want to give a part of yourself over. A part of you to him. Not because it sounds noble. Not because that's what you're supposed to do. But because it feels like what you're supposed to do. It feels like why you're there. It could be why all of this is happening. It's all so you can become a part of him. You can help him. You give back. And when they won't let you, you're confused.
You know yourself and you know you won't rest until everyone is happier. Until all of the people you know and love feel better. Are calmer. You're in the middle of something you can't seem to control. You know yourself enough to know that you might lose yourself in all of this. You'll spend so much time pleasing everyone else that in the end you will have forgotten to make yourself happy. You'll be at the end of the line. You know yourself, and you don't want to do it again. You know you will, but the knowledge that you don't want to is somewhat comforting.
You know everything, and you know nothing...
And in that there's this: you will always learn something new. About him. About her. About yourself. And even learning the bad, the uncomfortable, the messy-- it's what you take away that counts. It's how you feel when you learn something new. When someone confesses. When you learn about someone's flaws. When you see someone for who they really are (or what they really want you to think they are). What you do with that knowledge-- do you leave? pull tighter? ignore it? use it to fall in love even deeper?-- that's when you learn more about yourself.
You aren't a bad person. You're a complex person. You're dealing with complex people. And there's always more to know.
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(no subject)
Oct. 4th, 2009 | 09:25 pm
is an interpretative act. We could make it
directional: from left to right is hello,
right to left, goodbye. The buoy
clanged all night so my sleep
would know where to go. I could pray.
Tambourine myself to death.
Electroshock the worms. Wrap the maple
in tinfoil and decry the lightning
that splits it as misguided and deceived.
Nothing I do will bring you back. So this
is freedom: being ineffectual. Here
is where spiders set up shop
during the night, here is where a crow
decided to perch. Then it gets up
and perches over there, beside
where another crow perched last week.
It would be peaceful to be a sail
except during the storm.
During the storm, I would like to be
the storm. If you’re the storm,
there’s nothing frightening
about the storm except when it stops,
then you’re dead and the maps
are drowned. Within my heart
is another heart, within that heart,
a man at war writes home:
this is like digging a hole in the rain.
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(no subject)
Oct. 4th, 2009 | 11:45 am
because when you cross a street, you seem to be making love to the entire thing. because you smell like a warm croissant when you wake up in the morning. because i feel good with you. because you make me laugh. and you respect me, and you don’t piss me off. because you stimulate me. you’re witty. you’re honest. i love your eyes, your ass. touching the lower half of your face and your neck. the taste of your skin. your belly, your rough hands. the tilt of your eyebrows. because you are the only person with whom i am not playing a game with. because you’re dirty-minded and shameless. strong and fragile. you ask good questions. you make me dream about a perfect world. you give me the impression of being someone good. and because contrary to what you believe, of all the people i know, you are the most gifted for life.”
- frederik peeters, blue pills
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(no subject)
Sep. 28th, 2009 | 10:26 pm

I am not in Love, and I dont know if that breaks my heart more than when I was in love and it came unreturned
Its the saddest situation when love isnt enough, when two people who love each other just cant have each other.
Do I wish I never met him? Is he the best thing to happen to me? Both, but the timing is off. Both, I wish I never met them both.
Sleeping with him took me 100 miles away from you, sleeping with him was breaking all my strings I still had attatched to you.
I am not in love, and its the saddest thing how the roles have reversed
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(no subject)
Sep. 7th, 2009 | 03:25 pm
One more night, Hurt enough to make it stop.
I fell asleep next to a body that I didn't wish was yours. How can I explain this, I just decided, made the choice to stop.
I'm not saying it won't hurt when the body that is laying in my spot, isn't mine. But I found something new.
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(no subject)
Aug. 17th, 2009 | 07:11 pm
I've been writing about you for weeks now, Drove along the interstate five, crossed the country, met travellers as we shared cigarettes, slept in motels, swam with jelly fish, and I'm still going, I'm exploring the gulf islands right now. And I think every day I get more and more over you, some days I can go all day with out remembering how good it felt falling asleep. but lately ive been trying to forget te good things, they always get me to return, so i've been reminding myself o all the bad times, not because i want to hate you but ebcause it just reminds me how bad we were together, and how much better i deserved. it was never me, the only thing i was doing wrong, was you, the only wrong decisions I had made during that year, were the ones involved with you. I hope you grow, and grow into love, and accept it(even kno saying these things im getting sentimental) Sometimes My heart gets so heavy.
I'm not sure when I'm heading home, I plan on returning to the city where we fell in love, one im strong enough. that place is so haunted im not sure if i can handle it
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(no subject)
Jul. 9th, 2009 | 06:01 pm
because I torched all my other under things and boobie covers because you had fondled and got your dna on them
I love new under things and boobie covers
Only child syndrome, it must be tough being you!
I don't think I know any women who like men. Like actually like them...You know?
I like that I think about something other than just myself
I deposited my check and they put a six day hold on it. Life is so cool
But it keeps going going going going, and Im glad it doesn't stop. I am so fucking strong.
BING BANG BOOM
nem·e·sis (nm-ss)
n. pl. nem·e·ses (-sz)
1. A source of harm or ruin: Uncritical trust is my nemesis.
2. Retributive justice in its execution or outcome: To follow the proposed course of action is to invite nemesis.
3. An opponent that cannot be beaten or overcome.
4. One that inflicts retribution or vengeance.
5. Nemesis Greek Mythology The goddess of retributive justice or vengeance.
6. PER WALL
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(no subject)
Jul. 7th, 2009 | 11:05 pm
Good Luck, you're going to need it
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(no subject)
Jun. 25th, 2009 | 11:26 pm
Once you are in a relationship you start taking each other for granted. That's what destroys all love affairs. The woman thinks she knows the man, the man thinks he knows the woman. Nobody knows either. It is impossible to know the other, the other remains a mystery. And to take the other for granted is insulting, disrespectful.
To think that you know your lover is very very ungrateful. How can you know the woman? How can you know the man? They are processes, they are not things. The woman that you knew yesterday is not there today. So much water has gone down the Ganges; she is somebody else, totally different. Relate again, start again, don't take it for granted.
And the man that you slept with last night, look at his face again in the morning. He is no more the same person, so much has changed. So much, incalculably much, has changed. That is the difference between a thing and a person. The furniture in the room is the same, but the man and the woman, they are no more the same. Explore again, start again. That's what I mean by relating.
Relating means you are always starting, you are continuously trying to become acquainted. Again and again, you are introducing yourself to each other. You are trying to see the many facets of the other's personality. You are trying to penetrate deeper and deeper into his realm of inner feelings, into the deep recesses of his being. You are trying to unravel a mystery which cannot be unraveled.
That is the joy of love: the exploration of consciousness. And if you relate, and don't reduce it to a relationship, then the other will become a mirror to you. Exploring him, unawares you will be exploring yourself too. Getting deeper into the other, knowing his feelings, his thoughts, his deeper stirrings, you will be knowing your own deeper stirrings too. Lovers become mirrors to each other, and then love becomes a meditation. Relationship is ugly, relating is beautiful.
In a relationship both persons become blind to each other. Just think, how long has it been since you saw her eye to eye? How long has it been since you looked at him? Maybe years. Who looks at one's own lover? You have already taken it for granted that you know her. What more is there to look at? You are more interested in strangers than in the people you know -- you know the whole topography of their bodies, you know how they respond, you know everything that has happened is going to happen again and again. It is a repetitive circle.
It is not so, it is not really so. Nothing ever repeats; everything is new every day. Just your eyes become old, your assumptions become old, your mirror gathers dust and you become incapable of reflecting the other.
Hence I say relate. By saying relate, I mean remain continuously in the honeymoon phase. Go on searching and seeking each other, finding new ways of loving each other, finding new ways of being with each other. And each person is such an infinite mystery, inexhaustible, unfathomable, that it is not possible that you can ever say, "I have known her," or, "I have known him." At the most you can say, "I have tried my best, but the mystery remains a mystery."
In fact the more you know, the more mysterious the other becomes. Then love is a constant adventure.
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(no subject)
Jun. 23rd, 2009 | 11:11 am
Life has been beautiful, I mean breath taking beautiful where sometimes my heart swells so big I swear it's going to explode from all the love it's been filled up with and I'm afraid I'll run out of all this love I'm giving, but I always manage to make room for more, and find more to give.. I'm so in love with life and love. I've met the most beautiful people, and that hunger that I had for you went away. You texted me telling me sorry. I wanted to reply something back like 'Even your apologizes are half assed. or 'Haha, Pathetic, Forgive your self, I've already forgiven and forgotten you'. But I realized if I replied back, you'd reply back...and I really really didn't want to talk to you. I wonder if you're lonely out there? I'm almost sentimental about the fact that this is how it is turning out. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. I hit my toe pretty hard last night, and I wanted to swear really loud, but I captivated that thought and just said ow. I wanted someone to congratulate me. But I just did it myself. Things have stopped spinning lately, and I keep hoping that I will stay still. Every bone in my body wanted to run away, but I just decided to live it out. I realize before I can do what I want to, I'm going to have to do what is expected of me first...strange. I've started to transfer all that love I thought you deserved, to me. And I am falling so in love with me.
My void is being filled, love is worth it, and everything seems like it'll be ok....it's the calm after the storm....
......with great regret
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(no subject)
Jun. 14th, 2009 | 04:17 pm
Men eyed you with the automatic mix of curiosity, lust, and aesthetic judgment they always gave women, subject to object, the way you'd stare at an animal. You pretended not to notice. To remind them you are a person was too much effort. Objects bore no guilt.
But Why not? Because you are tired of men. Hanging in doorways, standing too close, their smell of beer or fifteen-year-old whiskey. Men who didn't come to the emergency room with you, men who left on Christmas Eve. Men who slammed the security gates, who made you love them then changed their minds. Forests of boys, their ragged shrubs full of eyes following you, grabbing your breasts, waving their money, eyes already knocking you down, taking what they felt was theirs. (...) It was a play and you knew how it ended, You didn't want to audition for any of the roles. It was no game, no casual thrill. It was three-bullet Russian roulette. "
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(no subject)
Jun. 10th, 2009 | 07:32 pm
this poem is not for the desperate/the pathetic/the lame/the loser/not for the one who hasn’t gotten laid in awhile/not for the one who says they’re “choosing not to date” for awhile/there is no such thing/this poem is for the people who cannot bring themselves to admit that they would give their right leg for any length of time with the person on their mind.
forgive me/I am not a brave woman/I do not know what lurks in the hearts of humans and I don’t really want to know/if what’s there mirrors memories I show in my face on bad days it holds kisses that are long gone/people who have disappeared/and passions that have faded into the ether of the past/nothing lasts/that is the one lesson this coward can say she is able to teach.
this poem is for all those who wish to say “I’m sorry”/I’m sorry I couldn’t love you/you deserve love/I’m sorry I couldn’t give something to you/you deserve to be given to/I’m sorry that for every person that loves somebody/another person just doesn’t want to/and sometimes we’re the lucky ones/right/we get to feel sweet truth in the night/the bodies we reach out to are miraculously there/but I know the despair that comes when they are not/I know the long nights and the doubt and the fear and that crawling back to a womb that just isn’t there/I know intensity’s address and the letdown that rents there/I’m sorry for it/it takes years off your life and it cannot be avoided.
and some times these little words are crutches for the crush that we feel/so this poem is a pathetic vehicle for me to tell you/each one of you/that I love you/in so many ways/in the same ways that stay up nights and days/dreaming up the perfect way to be there for someone/meals you would cook for them/poems you would write for them and the things you plan to say when they say no/well I love you/and you will never know how in the slight of a magician’s hand we could’ve been lovers and grandly in love/could’ve changed the whole game/written words on the horizon/changed the compromise/but you will know something else instead/bitter as bitter ever gets/more bitter than a rotten peach pit/more bitter than a child’s most terrifying nightmare at night/you will know that I don’t reflect what I see in your eyes/will will share some banal recognition/some cordial understanding but have I mentioned that I love you for not lying/so many people lying all the time/I hate them/so I love you/and you will still go home alone/and that is very hard to do.
for all the humans with love for those who aren’t their lovers/I love you.
and so the poem ends because we know that it will/but before it slips away like everything else/I will attempt the only words I can think of that are a fraction as good as a kiss: when you reach out at night and find not someone/but the cold grey light of day that wakes you up like a slap/like a curse/like an insult/I love you/when you stay at home thinking of those who are long gone or those who are getting kisses from someone that is not you/I love you/for those who want what they probably need and whose bodies are starving not for food/for me and for you and for all the people who never knew or understood what you would do for them/I love you/I love you/I love you.
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(no subject)
May. 18th, 2009 | 03:57 pm
I remember the time I knew you can't go back. Like how once to me your bones felt like home, but now beside them I feel like a visitor. Temporary. But I'm not saying with you I started believing in happily-only-you-and-me-ever-after, and no I never though of you as Mr. Right, yah you got that title of my Mr.Right Now. I remember reading Charles Bukoswki together in bed, and how your hands defiled me like one of his characters. I remember when I wanted you. Your wants went before my wants. See, It takes a lot out of me. See you take a lot out of me. See, I want you to keep on taking what you've been taking from me. Because I like giving it to you.
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(no subject)
Apr. 27th, 2009 | 12:14 am
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(no subject)
Mar. 18th, 2009 | 03:46 pm
Dear X Boyfriend, Per Wall, Buster, EX, Mystery Boy
If you ever make it back to Kelowna, please don't hesitate to call me
I owe you 101 apologies, and you owe me 102
(I could apologize over the internet, but I've gotten real good at saying what's going on inside this head of mine out loud)
And don't worry I’ve got no dramatic displays of public affection left, and I won't lay a hand on your face or family jewels, I know how important those are to you
(but p.s It did feel so good to attack you)
I know I overreacted, but when you walk half way in on a surgery, It looks like a murder. Yah Dig?
Don't worry, It won't be an 'I've changed, pleaseeeeee just take me back' talk, I don't want to get back onto that sinking ship that was our relationship, Plus you said it yourself Buster, too many negative vibes to even consider, and I'm not considering it. But, It'd still be nice to tell you about the crazy things my mom does, and I also like to hear the Jordan Fowler stories. Because You were one of my Best Friendz, you did help me figure out there is a little hopeless romantic inside me, however with that came the scariest freakiest creepiest fucking me ever! But come on, all those times you call me phsyco, bitch, and cr8zy, I had to live up to the names!
I know we are over(it) done(for good) and It's real soon, but I'd like you as a friend, or even just an acquaintance. U dig it?
But If I never see your face again or never hear that lullaby voice of yours
Thank you Per Kristin Wall for breaking up with me!
I was 2 needy needy when it came to you, and we lost the BADAZZLE and the SPARKLE, It was boring, and yawn worthy, It was routine!
I think we both had too many un attatched strings from the past, or at least I did, and I was not ready for a relationship, I didn't want a relationship, I knew that, but I just liked the idea of having a relationship, more then the idea of it being with you and I was so afraid of a failed relationship, that always fearing it and thinking about it, I sent out negative vibes, so like duh, of course it would be a negative relationship!
and I don't care if they say Leos and Aries are compatiable, re check that source, because we proved them so wrong!
I used you like a crutch Buster, but it back fired. I didn't go to Vancouver to win you back, I came back that day because I didn't want to give up again, like I gave up on everything else, But I picked the worst thing to not give up on. I just didn't think anyone else would want me once you had taken those things from me, I just felt (so)dirty and used, and I mean who really wants a used pair of jeans, when they can have a new pair?
It's why I couldn't leave you, that and because I couldn't hurt you, I didn't want to, I just kind of pityed you. It was selfish of me. I always did say people just need something to believe in, I decided to believe in you. I revolved my world around you, not because I wanted to, but because it became so eazy to, because If I focused on you, always worried about you, did everything for you, I didn't have to face the shit that I had created in my life for me. I lost myself in us, in this. I became to available, and none wants something they can just have, everyone likes a little mystery and chase. But We tried to change each other, and in the ended just resented each other for it,I wanted you to be someone else then you were, and I couldn't accept that wasn't who you were, and I didn't know what you wanted, but it wasn't me, and I wish you would have been more honest with yourself on that, that I wasn't what you wanted. I hated you for that, for not wanting me. And we both just settled for less. I hated that I was becoming dependant on you, and that I gave it all way to you, but I couldn't walk away. You played hot and cold with me Per, You gave me hints telling me to get lost, but then you wouldn't let me go when I tried. (BLACK HOLE) I needed you to make me feel good about me, because I changed me so much to be the me that you thought I was going to be when you first kissed me, that I didn't know who I was unless you were telling me. I needed your boost me ups, because they were the only things that could bring me up once you brought me down.
So Thank You, I just wish you would have told me what was going on up there in that head of yours, that you would have told me I was crowding you, that you would have let me go when I wanted to go(even if we both knew I didn't want to, but It was what was needed) so this could have ended more mututally, and less dramatically, so much more less dramatically, haha.
I don't want to see you again, and I don't need to, It just kind of has to happen, I've got explanitions up to my ears! and I need to get them out of me!
I hope work is going good, and you're keeping your belly full of good foods! and that life is going GRRRRate! I'm sorry for the series of unfortunate events that took place
Send me your address, I don't have a clue what to do with that skateboard, and want to send it right back to you! Along with cool sequence shots of you and your skateboard! What use do I have for them?
(I'm trying to be the bigger person here, try too?)
Take Care,
Your Crazy Ex Girlfriend
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(no subject)
Mar. 18th, 2009 | 12:39 pm
Well fuck lets take her upstairs where you can remove them for her and hold her hands. I swear to god if that bitch slept on my pillow I'll kick your ass all over again.
Boys, do they think we like them enough to believe their bullshit.
You can lie to me, and I can lie to me, but my eyes can't lie to me.
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(no subject)
Feb. 26th, 2009 | 10:42 am
I couldn't run away even if I tried.I had a dream he died while biking in the desert with Will Smith.
I told him he can never go mountain biking with will smith in the desert!
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(no subject)
Jan. 29th, 2009 | 03:41 pm
To believe and confide in
Different people I found...
Some of them got closer than others,
And some wouldnt even bother,
And then you came around.
I didnt really know what to call you,
You didnt know me at all,
But I was happy to explain.
I never really knew how Id move you,
So I tried to intrude through
The little holes in your veins.
And I saw you.
But thats not an invitation,
Thats all I get,
If this is communication,
I disconnect...
Ive seen you, I know you,
But I dont know how to connect,
So I disconnect...
You always seem to know where to find me,
And Im still here behind you,
In the corner of your eye.
I never really learnt how to love you,
But I know that I love you,
Through the hole in the sky,
Where I see you
And thats not an invitation,
Thats all I get.
If this is communication,
I disconnect...
Ive seen you, I know you,
But I dont know how to connect,
So I disconnect...
Well, this is an invitation,
Its not a threat,
If you want communication,
Thats what you get.
Im talking and talking,
But I dont know how to connect.
And I hold... a record for being patient
With your kind of hesitation.
I need you, you want me,
But I dont know how to connect,
So I disconnect,
I disconnect...
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(no subject)
Jan. 28th, 2009 | 03:28 pm
I cut my hair
and I threw out every dress someone would call cute
Long distance relationships are such a drag
I hope we never say I love you
When did I decide it was ok to drop my pants and my morals all for some boy who I know wont ever amount to something worth it......
I want it back
