02 6 / 2011
WHEN is it my turn
To decide
To feel
To say what I want
If you said it were
Christmas
Or Doom’s Day
Or national “I’m not going to talk to you now” (day)
Then it would be
When will you finish designing
Your clever fabrication
Of occasional lies
Temporarily declaring my value
When will my frustration
Outweigh
My pathetic desire
To feel loved
Probably never
02 6 / 2011
You’re a liar
And no half drunk
Declaration
Of some bullshit
Explanation
Of how much you care
Will undo the fact that
Your reality
Is to treat me
Like
Shit
(found in high school English notebook)
02 6 / 2011
I’m not a strong woman
My way is to comply
To appease
Till rage is stifled
I only speak up
When I’m drained
Or I am made to pretend
I am speaking my mind
And then I will fabricate
The most unlikely reasons
For my silence
02 6 / 2011
My rage
Is untypable
Unpublishable
Gnawing
Piercing
Nail-biting
Fucking jaw-breaking
And all I want to do
Is let it be
01 6 / 2011
Rotten
I’m ankle deep inside of you.
It smells here, like rust
and balloons. You are too,
too young for that.
Your lips crumble
when I touch them. So I
hold onto the bare bones
of your jaw. Jagged teeth,
perfectly white. I’d kiss
you, but I’m allergic
to your lies.
(Source: elleinprocess-blog)
01 6 / 2011
I drink
milk
in my sleep
because even
in my dreams
I lack the
strength
in my bones
to walk
away
from
you
