e_loveless

a. today i had the mother of all migraines. i spent the day in bed, whimpering for someone to shoot me. sadly, no one was around to put me out of my misery.
b. theatre-going for the third night this week. the island was decent i suppose. scarlett johansson is lovely. simply lovely.
c. blue koolaid slushy rock my socks.
d. but not more than the peachy ones that you used to take me downtown specifically to get.
e. i'm done apologizing, take it or leave it.
f. "i'm going to bed. i am in the city all day tomorrow.... gimme a ring a ding ding if you'd like" i will not call. i will not call. i will not call. i will not call. oh fuck, who am i kidding.
g. i wish i could sleep 'normal' hours. that would be great. really great.
h. i think its high time i got another tattoo. my mum will just have to deal with the naked chick on my arm. and the fact that her daughters a big dyke. whatev.
i. ever find someone who..it seems like they've stolen your personality? they are you in ever sense, they vaugely look like you, their favourite bands are all your favourite bands, they dress like you, talk like you, act like you, think like you. this bitch is cramping my style. i need me back.
j. fuck, i'm only at j. who's stupid idea was this?
k. must remember to get those rolls of film developed. yes.
l. tomorrow i get to venture back home to scrub my house from top to bottom because it's disgusting. or was, the last time i was there. i'm willing to bet its condition has only worsened. that's just super. really.
m. kind of like spitting rock, for the sheer fact that they use the word 'beautifugly' in one of their songs.
n. i want to go camping. like real camping, not the backyard kind. that's grown old.
o. you should send me mail. because mail makes me smile. and i'm in dire need of a smile. i'll send you something pretty in return, i promise!
p. if you could do one thing, that under any other circumstance you would never have the chance to do, what would you do?
q. thursday is kelly and hollie's excellent adventure day. we're going photoboothing, and picture taking. and i'm sure some strongbow will be involved. goodtimes will ensue.
r. my head still hurts. fuckers.
s. they sold pickle yesterday. i'm a little sad. ah well.
t. what is the one thing that you wish you had right at this moment in time?
u. i need a change. just a small one.
v. what is your biggest regret?
w. it breaks my heart that i lost the locket. i'm sorry. i never meant to. at least i still have the flask..
x. what's the best gift that anyone has ever given you?
y. my feet are cold.
z. and yes, i am just trying to fill up letters, because clearly i got bored at j.
oh.
and i found this yesterday.
i enjoy it.
hopefully you will also.
i wrote it in one of my english classes last year. the prof i had thought i was mentally unstable. she called my mum. i shit you not. who does that? let's be honest here.
.
the bleakness
midnight black ink sketched carelessly across white pages,
toothless with the smooth manila grain.
single,
continuous curves,
filled with cross hatched light values and implied shadows that we were so keen to learn,
seduce lost souls into the vast,
stress induced,
scratches adorning the majority of what would be spiral in sound alone.
words fill in the spaces,
visible and unseen in their masochistic font,
draining from high-tech electronic devices resting upon my ears,
wrapping misheard angry lyrics around my impressionable,
drained,
sleep deprived brain mass.
scattered untraceable thoughts slip,
slide,
slink past neat letters with the exhaust of late nights,
coffee breaks,
cocaine overdoses and copy written music.
fake physics equations line the insides of fake moonlit mountains,
fake-ly recorded only by those privileged with the sharpest quill,
mistaken only in their simplest veil for those merciless viola gods.
simple,
childishly animated escapes come to mind,
remembering just what it was that nudged such a bleak vision into written completion.
disgust for humanity brightens on the velvety orange horizon,
over the darkened encompassing mistakes,
passed the thin silver blue stars,
over the elongated,
italicized,
arial letters,
proclaiming its deliciously disguised,
yet still existent appearance.
living in picture perfectly straight ratios to southeast corners,
the weather was never quite perfect.
heavy black lines hang more thickly than the smothering,
dank air surfacing from the pours of basement corners,
smothering onlookers innocent of any crime fit for such punishment in mothball musk,
the seasons newest sensation.
dawn;
eases to quick,
fast,
chicken scratch.
feeding the newborn hens puts everything into perspective.
the troll has put his foot down,
its time for overdue tolls to be paid.
ignore the solid lines,
timeless truths tell me we arent in kansas anymore.

editted for my being an idiot. it was late. give me a break, jeeesus.