9/19/08

Make your millions, flattened city, cover your culture. Stretched your skin too thin, you crushed your beauty under the weight of golden arms. Now this is a worthless ship sailing on the naked tides of an empty ocean. I can see the snakes from up high slithering through your grid work. Congratulations lovely, you’ve killed one thing I adored, but I’ll decorate this city with the names of what you lost.

9/17/08

Crying on my doorstep, filthy with instigation. Weave your web someplace else, little spider. I need some time to grieve. Wishing without hoping because I know your day will come. Sorrow spread so fucking thin that my lips can’t feel it rushing down. Brick-faced indignation, chest-piercing stares. We settled for so little but you cried until you got what was theirs. Make molehills out of thin-air, and mountain-size your world. I’ve got shoulders fit for weighted means, but nothing like your words. Dusty resolutions made clean with little effort became the revolution you yearned to cling to. Forget your own four seasons and make weather all yours. We can live in a sea of regrets as long as the water’s warm.

9/16/08 #2

Meander somewhere between distance and dissonance. Scar the tissue of the wasted words. Scatter smiles. Place the fault on the shoulders of reason. Make an effort to scour it clean. Waste these letters on burning paper. Write your name on all the ashes. This is the following message. The recorded voice right after the siren. This is worse than living. This is the feeling of waiting in the wings.

9/16/08

This world is folding over. You looked but you leapt anyway. How does it feel falling? How does it feel falling toward yourself? Repetitions of repetitions. Scratch your way out of the mud. You can feel your lungs getting smaller. You can feel yourself giving up. Moving like slow-motion, gears grinding you to dust. You swear you found the answer to everything. You scream that you’re not lost. I watch you splinter. I watch your lips shake. I can see the way the ocean swallows things that it’s never even seen.

8/19/08

My eyes perceive nothing but black skies outside these dusty walls. They crave the sun, but little do they know...its out there waiting. Its out there waiting to attack and bounce off them blinding. Send me away, tell me “Oh, boy, don’t you dare come back.” Well, I won’t. No, but not because you said those words to me. No, I won’t be back, but not because you told me anything. My eyes can’t see anything but black skies past your shining face. They know me. They know how I’m going to change. Yeah, they see me. They see walking away like I won’t come back, but I will be. Little do they know...

8/4/08

I have absolutely no one that I can talk to about everything that is making me feel like I'm being crushed. It all effects anyone I could talk to in some way or the people are having equally as trying times.

As of now I am financially fucked, which is making me emotionally fucked. Work is definitely not helping. I'm in over my head, with my hands tied, and everyone is asking me why I can't swim over and over and over. Its almost to the point where I can't take it. I fight panic attacks all day long and thats wearing on me too. I need to see someone, but seeing as I have no money ever, I'm not sure how.

For the next two months or so I will be living in forced poverty so I can try and get back on my feet, but even then the well can only hold so much water before all of the thirsty people have drained it dry. What then?

Late:
Rent
Gas
Electric
Cell phone
Car insurance
Loans from my mom to take care of previous late rent/gas/electric/cell phone/insurance.

I just don't know what to do at all. I feel like an utter failure.

Manhattan

The air swims around me, thick. Thick like the blood chugging on through my veins. Thick like thieves. Basically the same thing. Time is running out for us. The clock-piece cogs are falling all over Brooklyn while my father tells me all my dreams are drowning, which is ironic, this being a dream and all. A life wasted for the want of some sort of reaction. Nuclear, to be clear here. Platonic always sounded like something that glows green anyway, right? Something cancer-causing. This doesn’t mean a thing. Hospitalize me for the way I think, suffocate me in medicine and bleach white sheets. This isn’t me. Will someone tell everyone this just isn’t me, please? Glass shatters strong when it hits the streets. Silver timepiece broken, stopping everything. Wake me up. I need the secrecy of her smoky bedroom. I need the sweet smell of her skin. I need to shake myself awake to those bright brown eyes and curly blonde hair. Someone pinch me please.