I bought your 8 dollar box of gummie bears because your fingernails were clean. But your track marks were fresh and your meth mouth was was rotten. No way did I believe you were trying to get clean. I was just doing my part for the forgotten.
Broken Teeth, Full Smile.
15.10.13
27.4.12
This crippling loneliness comes back around when you're not. A six pack and two grilled cheese sandwiches later, it's horrifyingly amplified. It's not even so much lonely as it is bored. But those are the same thing aren't they? Sitting on the roof, the Spring breeze only makes it worse. Why am I so goddamn content? Why do I fake contentment?
17.4.12
She's back
I woke this morning to my back burning. The sun, fierce in it's approach, announced with fervor the waking world on the other side of that finger smudged paned glass block. As I turned to face my accuser in a blinding light, broken was the silence they had settled so gently upon my figure. I was met only with trepidation as my pupils shriveled and the crevices of my forehead matured from an adolescent slumber. My ears peaked to the plainsong of sparrows and rustled pines. My nostrils swelled with the aroma of lilac tree and wet earth of morning dew. Bitterly binding my budge on a predetermined consciousness I grew weary in the cognizance I now met. "FUCK OFF SUN!" I bawled with a remorseful rage. Throwing the covers over my face to camouflage myself into hibernation. They retaliated. The lucent battalion advanced, engulfing my ambuscade and setting it aflame. My blood boiled, my eupnea elided, my skin scorched, my mouth mummified, all while my spirit sat suffering. No longer could I occupy such onslaught. Surrendering my armor in a plea for life, I gasped for pure heavens as my eclipse fell to the floor. With my eyelids sorely ascending and the last gust and anguish leaving my lips in a burst of alleviation, my being appeased. Again I met the dissonant daylight and the recognition of reality. The tussle with creation was one I inevitably knew I would never be triumphant in. Yet my rebellious rationalities wanted not to trust the province with which nature, not only in and of itself, but of my own nature as well, had chaperoned along with it this gracefully melancholy morning. She had arrived with fury and dynamism to take the place of the complacently lifeless winter, seemingly overnight. In graceful requesting whispered breaths she speaks. Yet in brutal hostility she invades. I would be forced to crucify the stupor I had grown so accustom to. It was time to give in and get done. The militant yet merciful Spring is here.
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31.10.11
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29.9.11
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