remember me?

alright.
hit me.

anonymous posting gogogo!

 i wrote this, last night. latelatelate. listening. always listening. thinking. breathing:


***
i'm lying on the couch now, buried under blankets cos fuck the heat, i awnt soft warmth pressed against my skin. the digital display is flashing green 11:51. i sort of wish i could go back in time forty minutes, cos id know exactly what you're thinking. id know youre wishing. are you, still? for scarred boys and girls across town, across teh country?

i'm listening to lullaby, it will never not make me think of you, i wonder if thats different from it always making me think of you. that could alice in wonderland playing croquet in my thoughts though, saying what you mean vs meaning way you say, i eat what i see vs i see what i eat, only you dont eat ever. you spread your heart thin, thin like the skin stretching over your hipbones, they jut out like a skeleton, a shipwreck pushing out from the sand. or so i'd imagine. i wouldnt know would i. id love to dive in and explore you, you have an empty stomach but are filled with so much. golden hearts that dont rust ever trapped inside the hope chest of your ribs. i wonder if you are also filled with faith. i always say god is the greatest invention ever but i still dont believe, instead i say 'i have faith in people', not like that. its so hard to relate to the whole human race, but i'll scream myself hoarse across the great divide. tell me have i hatched or have i gone bad? breathing shallowly inside an egg, a fragile shell, "do the butterflies in your stomach come from cocoons?". my gut is so filled with them i'm choking. but there i go again there i go again there i go again...

i dont know why i put this song on repeat, its embedded in my head, contstantly looping through the circuits in my brain. will my words mean that much to anyone, ever? i dont know. i dont know anything, neither do you, maybe thats the whole point i said. they try so hard not to die they forget to appreciate life. but youve had your stomach lined with charcoal, overdoe insomnia anxiety heartache. "medicating perfection". i always think the church channel, rainbow pill four course meals, drawing infinity, reading the bible, where the fuck is my epiphany? my heavenly intervention?. youyouyou.

can we play hide and seek in heaven? we'll make it a date, i'll dress my best. i have no one to hold hands with buried deep in the ground, id love to sleep beside you but i'll settle for rotting to dust, to dust, to dirt. instead i'll be burnt to cinders. poured into concrete mixed, built into the foundation of a hospice or mausoleum. an encore for the dead. a parade. but im getting so far off the point, what i meant to say so many sentences back is,

my breath will catch if you say i'm worth dying for,
but my heart will burst if you ever say i am worth living for.

live for me, breathe for me, sing for me.

its dark and my fingers brush against ghosts, im not so afraid, your name running miles in my head. these ghosts can sleep in my bed tonight, i'll take the floor. you're about as reachable as me touching the moon, but its okay.
ill leave it hanging there to light up the dark for you, walking the streets at four am and thinking about him.
shining brighter at night.
putting the sun to shame.
always.

***

this is my last entry in this journal until the end of summer. in those lazy languid days i can be found at

brighteratnight

 

Tags: in love period, in love with 'fuck you'
Current Mood: sad
Current Music: the spill canvas- lullaby

in the desert we breathe through our skin/ the boy had thunderstorms clouding his eyes

softly singing summer siren
dashed her love upon the rocks.
sailors clutch chained silver hearts
filled with gently waving locks.
ships leave port without their crew,
traded out for girls with eyes the size of the moon.
the salt burned time out of every clock-
they spilled whiskey in the ocean and set fire to the docks.
she keeps her voice inside a clutch- a 
mermaids purse from stories bleak-
lined with sand-spit shining pearls
and blue-green seaglass beads.
cast off of night's plutonium shore,
tossed among waves of mercury.
(her hope chest is the sea,
lined with gold and dead men's souls)
with a shaking hand i spin the world
and count her song  in with my heart.beat. 


i wrote that after i finished our last day of state testing. its pretty much the only poem i've ever written that had drafts. (its the first one i've written in a long time too. end rhyme scheme guys. even if its completely irregular, eh.) i don't think i like it. it sounded pretty when i dreamt it. i don't know when i started dreaming in poetry. maybe i dont really, and my mind just translates it all. i like things to sound nice and clear and pretty. i know that sounds superficial, and i know that the world isnt typically a very pretty thing. but if i can somehow form something beautiful for just one person, i can't not do that. for a world that is often very ugly, shouldnt i do what i can to create something breathtaking, breathstealing? i just want that one moment when two people understand each other. i want to bring us closer from across the divide. we keep trying to send messages. but the distance just warps and echoes words. take a step. its not as far down as you think. and maybe you have wings. like a baby bird tumbling from its nest.

"It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg. We are like eggs at present. And you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad. " -c.s. lewis

i will hold you close. i will help you hatch. and i will fix up your wings when you are hurt. 

and over and over, i will play the pieces of songs that make our  hearts stutter in our chests. weave together a story of every perfect forever moment under the skies of a softer world.

Tags: i will love you until the end of...., in the desert we breathe thru our skin, rotton eggs vs baby birds
Current Location: on the tip of your tongue
Current Mood: hopelessly hopeful
Current Music: desert song- my chemical romance

i want pavement imprinted on my skin.
spit blood and teeth,
"theres not much difference between a fuck and a fistfight"
tangled in the sheets, fingernails in my back.

id marry the madness that left me alone in the dark<---listen.love.


the secret key is "thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect" dot dot dot  

Listen the fuck up.
You have a girlfriend.
Don't look at me that way.
I'll scorch these butterflies to cinders.
She could have been me.





Only, I'm pretty sure it's my fault.
Oh well, too late.
You're taken and I'm engaged. 



Fuck this shit, lol. I'm making a blogspot.
White text on a black background.
Gonna be fucking intense.


I dont' know what the hell is wrong with me lately. I could laugh death in the face. Taunt it.
If God choses anytime to strike me down or smite me, now would be very convenient.
gotta go- making a reservation in hell.

my scars are not just scars.
they are battle wounds, indifferent to victory or defeat.
they are my history through my perspective.

they are fading.

vague dark crisscrossing, shadows of veins.
ghosts of pain, of want, of fear, of loneliness. of revenge.
ghosts that aren't quite as dead as you'd like;
just like how graveyards are never quite as silent as you'd like,
all snapping branches and sighing winds.

if you look closely you'll see short, fine lines close together.
letters.
a word. a name.

she was the first person i stayed up all night with.
the first person i met whose head was like mine- slightly off balance with the rest of the world.
dizzy and brimming with stories. eyes wide open to a world both dark and blinding.
we spoke like poetry. soft confessions spilled beneath covers,
in the dark, glow casting shadows on our faces, hearts connected 3000 miles away,
"fuck the miles between us"

the curves of the
S are already gone.
(we spoke of a diamond boy and jetfuel stained nights)
A, slightly crooked, a shaking hand.
(she taught me it was possible to heal a heart)
jumbled together, RENA.

God how I loved that girl.

But sometimes, no matter how many words are exchanged, how open your heart is, it only takes a few words to shatter trust,What, do you want me to cry for you?
it hurt. i didn’t understand then. but i do now. all i do is taketaketake.
pity. one thing she wasn’t willing to give me. but now i’m thankful.

 its been forever since that last cut.
or maybe its only been a few months.
its been nearly eight months since it meant anything, though.
now, whever the scissorsrazorknifeglass is heavy in my hand, its seems no matter how hard i press i never break the skin.
i cant find much wrong with cutting. i'm sorry if that makes me abnormal, 
unhealthy,
unhinged.

i asked my friend, what seemed so wrong with it? its like a tattoo. a few seconds of pain, and your heart is on your sleeve.
she didnt know how to answer me.

we're only cutting ourselves open to stitch ourselves up.
i dont need you. i can do it on my own. its just nice to have a helping hand, to thread the needle and rest my knee against.
i don't want people hurting themselves, though.
it means they are unhappy. 
i was so caught up in the belief that if i cut down deep enough,
id split open a vein of happiness, i'd bleed out smiling.
i want to be okay.
i want to be okay with being okay.

its her name cut into my arm but it symbolizes so much more.
its for anyone who has made my
heart ache
head quake
knees shake.
ive got names tattooed all over.
skin & heart
nerves & bones:
sarena amanda megan kayla lauren jen molly melina/
coy aaron jake/
pete ryan patrick william gerard max justini'm not saying that i'm giving up/
i'm just trying not to think as much as i used to

i still want to get back on track/
and i'll do whatever it takes/
even if it kills me

and i'd crush empires, kills stars for all of you.

 

 

 

i'm selfish as selfish comes
and i break hearts without lifting a finger.
but this doesnt make me feel any better all.


i don't want any part of this world.
i need someone to shake me awake,
"darling you're only dreaming."
nightmares, fistfights, fucking, and screaming.
i need to wake up
wake up
wake up.
please, i dont want any of this anymore.

i know stars shine bright above you.
please, wish me dead.
please.
it won't work with just me alone.
the skies are blurry.

i clung to your voice like it was a life-raft.
the wires wrapped around my wrists,
you kept my head above water.
i was drowning in a sea of mercury,
swept away off of nights plutonium shore.
when i fall among clouds, black sheep, underdogs and thunderstorms.
it will be your hands around my waist,
sneaking under the dark velvet slip of summer dreaming,
softly bombing august nights.




i traded you for him.
its his fingers tracing shadows along my eyelids at night.
painting invisible pictures on the walls,
knocking for the ghosts tucked inside.
i remember when we were bigger than all of this,
bigger than any city,
or any dream.
i traded you for him.
im not saying i traded up i'm just saying
at least he's there to whisper wars in my ear,
and we bomb unseen sidewalk cities until the sun wakes up the whole state.

 

( when we kiss i can hear yr thoughts (in progress) )

( stockholm syndrome (in progress) )

 

( but they all knew better than to ever move )