Sane Heart, Old Mind, Beating Soul.

So you wanna be tough, yeah?

Twist your mouth and sneer at everyone who ever looked down on you, yeah?

"Nah cuz, I don't do emotions. I don't do that shit cuz."

Look through the misty window onto a street of snow as your mother lays ill on that hard as fuck hospital bed next to you- plastic tubing on the spine of her arm?

Jk. I've never seen snow before.

It was the ocean, swirling blue Japanese pop art in the 80's and the low hum howl of the wind saying hi and touching its surface. 

I turn and my mother's on her side, talking to one of the tens who visit her so that they can be absolved of their guilt and  be able to comfortably say, "I saw her right before she died and she looked absolutely fine. We even had a conversation."

Bullshit spraying brown chunks from their pursed lips, can you smell that or is it just me?

She'll be fine. It's just a UTI.

I'll grow cranberries for you on my sparse coin studded windowsill so I'll never have to eat that delicious hospital dinner again, tastes so good and cranberries are so bitter.

Both of them unpalatable.

Will you love me even when we can't see each other anymore? Can love pass through this invisible dimensional wall that we're still too fucking stupid to comprehend?

Will you come back and pop the abscess in the corner of my beating heart like you'd do to everything that was not supposed to be a part of this?

Your love as a ghost better never ever change. 

Stay the same lovely.

Keep that breathless charm.

Last Page

The only thing standing between you,
And anything you want to be,

Is a state of mind,

Gatekeeper arms spanning wide and open,
Named You-Created-Me-I-Don't-Really-Exist.
Call him by his name.

"You know what you want, don't you?"
"Uh-huh." Your lower lip trembles,
"How badly do you want it?"
"I always get what I want."

He lowers his arms, "Give it to yourself."



And he shrugs and walks away.

All in my feelings.

I feel like a total fuck up.

I also feel like this has been the subject line of one too many posts on this blog. Because its true, I fuck up a lot. Even when I'm not aware of it, I do.
Even when I haven't, if feels like I have or I'm about to.

I fuck up retrospectively; the real weight of my fuck ups do not hit me until a few years have passed reluctantly and it dawns on me that that thing I did or that decision I made a few years ago was a GIANT FUCKING MISTAKE I SHOULDN'T HAVE DONE THAT...

...but of course, it's too late by then.

I've been all up in my feelings lately and Drake usually says that like it's a good thing, and I guess it is. I just have to ride the tidal wave of suck until the end, whenever that might be, and hope I can make it to the end without wiping out.

God, this sucks. I feel like everyone hates me and I know that's crazy, why would anyone hate me? I haven't done anything to anyone.


I know it's just my mind talking dumb shit but thoughts like that are unthinkable. I start thinking, "I'm annoying, I'm an annoying twat who annoys everyone I've ever crossed paths with. I take up too much space, I breathe their air and now they hate me because I'm just an unlovable, annoying twat."

And once I've started going down this spiral of self-loathing and self-pity, it's hard to turn back. Unthinkable thoughts.

I've been through this enough times to know that right now, I just need to be nice to me and give myself some TLC. Don't rush it, just ride the wave and feel all the things it wants me to feel because I'll never get out of it until I feel those things in all their misery and glory.

Self love is hard, man. But I'm gonna need it if I'm gonna ride this wave.

What You Eat Don't Make Me Shit.

It's a two way street,
And do not think for one second that the fact that we share blood entitles you to any part of me,

I am not your birthright.

Family is solid,
Friendship is liquid,

Liquid points-
-that you-
-have not earned.

I take in more liquids than solids,
Because I don't like shit,
Yours included,

Don't get it twisted, ma'am.

Nothing Even Matters.

She's heartsick,
More sick than heart.
A craving for magic,
And she won't settle for anything less than magical.

She really wanted it to be him,
She knocked on wood with crossed fingers,

But it was less than par.

Less than bare minimum.

Queens are queens because they're queens,
And she needs to be a queen,
For herself,
By herself.

And everything more,
Nothing less.

So basically...

I'm going to post everything almost everything I write and spam the blogosphere.

The shiny gold & the pale brown shit.

I don't care anymore.

Broderick: #1

Dear Broderick,

I would lie and tell you I miss you but the truth is Brod, I don't.

The first few months since you left were hard but now, I can't even make out the shapes of your scars. Scars I once knew so well.
There's the one on your left calf, dark and chaotic from when you cut yourself on a rusty nail and got tetanus for a week.

The other one, the one your father gave you when you were 12, it irks me.
I remember it being on your back but as much as I close my eyes and tug on my mind, I just can't picture it anymore.

I cried, at first. Now, I'm content with you evading my mind in true slow-air-released-out-of-a-balloon fashion.

Your mother stopped by today. She brought me a cup of soup. She asked if I'd spoken to you lately, I lied and said yes. She's so sweet and delicate, I'll have to cut her off gently. The fact that she lives next door doesn't help but it's how we met in the first place, so I shouldn't complain..

Call your mother, she's lonely, she misses you.

We had our run, Brod. I don't know why we keep hanging on to this idea that's like watery soup on a hot day, unnecessary.

I loved you once, that is enough for all my lifetimes.