January 2010
81 posts
lips buried deep in your neck. hands. everywhere. hip bone kisses. fingers tracing crop circles up and down my back. tracing them onto the sheets. lips always swollen and bitten. ex ballerina. full time student. you’re more than the words that i can’t seem to find. and at three thirty three on a sunday morning. or is it saturday night? maybe saturday night. listen to how my voice...
“i hate the way the words “i’m sorry” always seem to fit.”
“cex sells”
“there are millions of stars in the sky right this very second. but i can’t...”
i get paid to feel things. to wear things. to be things. and i am anything anybody with a hundred dollar bill wants me to be. but with you, its different. i’m feeling things because they’re real. nothing more, nothing less. and i don’t need anything other than that. just the feeling of you being next to me. the feeling of loving you. the feeling of knowing that this is what i was...
“u n s i n k a b l e”
“Je ne suis pas ici. Je te veux.”
“coffee lips, and chess board skin. we belong at home.”
you know that feeling when you’re sinking? and you’re a little over halfway to the bottom of the ocean, and the waters so damn cold. but your mask is leaking. you’re losing air. the current above you is heavy with anticipation, pushing you, edging you away. and the light at the surface beings to fade. nightfall. somewhere on the surface, there are fishermen sailing home to their...
“home is when i’m alone with you.”
freckles and bones. faces close. too close. eyes can’t focus. blurry. heavy. the sun in your eyes. fingers drawing crop circles in the sheets, and on my hands. heart beats heavy, quickly. to remind you that i’m alive. still here. happiest i’ve ever been. faces close. too close. breathe. never close enough.
“according to suicide statistics, monday is the favored day for self-destruction....”
“and then you pick yourself, and you start over”
take me out. pull me in. tell me what i need to hear to do whatever the fuck it is that you want. tell me i look good. tell me i’m skinny. fuck me up. tear me down. i’ll do whatever you need me to do. when you’re lonely, you break yourself into pieces. and you hand those pieces out to everyone who looks like they might give a shit. and sometimes, these tiny pieces of you scatter...
“tie yourself to the secrets you kept. the broomstick’s gone, but the floor...”
“the question is, its ten pm, do you know where your children are?”
“my bed is so empty without you.”
“the sun drips, heavy, wet and melting on the city skyline, falling slowly...”
