sheetsweat

i feel like this: === ==== === = = = lllllll q ===== !!!! ! !

tonight i will go home and lay my head on my broken mattress, my own version of the queens bed. i will dream that I am the empress of india, flowers named for my imperial beauty.

but for now, my insides feel like a waterfall; everything rushing down and filling my toes, swelling me up so i float when i walk, explosive and unrecognizable. everything...
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the pen continues to scribble, without me knowing what it has to say, and paragraphs are slowly morphing into pages, getting me through a story without a plot or meaning, no subliminal message to pass on to the generations that will come next, that will follow exactly in the marks my feet have made in carpets and cement. i really couldnt care less, as a...
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struggling, i peer into the faces of those that shun me. whispering vexes at their backs, as they march on, filing me away, an example of how sad the world has become. when i am alone, really alone, i will scream at them, calling them pigs and making remarks that my mother would not allow. it will not matter if i am being literal or...
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its all so hard to explain, to form into articulate sentences. Its like standing in a snowstorm, where i cant even see my hand in front of me, but still trying to navigate the trails; like kissing in an airplane, when you cant grasp your own feelings.

.........

in my hands the page is blank. a few words, filling the space like balloons, scatter themselves around the corners, between the lines. eyes move back and forth, reading inerasable cursive promises, the bold statements i wish i saw stapled to the sides of buildings, painted under bridges where the poorest of men could read our love songs to one another.

.......

i am thinking of the things i would like to say to you. sentences and key phrases, outlining the way i feel. felt. the shards of wisdom i often hold to my veins, like glass, betting my life on rumors i heard from some book somewhere, written out by a ghost i will never meet.

......

i am sitting on the sidewalk. eyes blurred from the rain that has fallen, droplets clouding up a windshield. the cement is like a blanket, but hard, more like petrified oatmeal. the open air to me, feels like a prison. a place where i am innocent, but everyone looks at me, knowing if i was that which i claimed, i would not be here, chained...
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she was falling apart.

her seams stretching too tight

everything straight

boys

roads

mothers.

you can't compete.

so strap on some more fake fingernails

she said

as she fucked her father

because you're not impressing anyone

with a face like that.

i like to dance. this is a representation of me dancing:
lkhweio;088498888nkallllllllllllllll?llllllllllllllkkkk!!!!!!!!!??!!