Devious Journal EntryWriting is just where it bothers me most.
Here.Here. A girl. Here she sits and smokes and sits. And she Goes to sleep And she Likes to slip away From it all.Here.
And she is not ok. No matter how she spins the tale. And she Can hold her liquor
But not her tongue.
And she has been the very saddest Of them all.
But: she climbs And falls And climbs and falls and CLIMBS And falls.
Where? The question of the bottom. Where? When does the falling stop?
poemI have a thing with the hospital cafeteria. I have a thing like some sort of affair. And the beauty of it is that it could be any hospital cafeteria. I slide in, take my time peruse. I slide the tray past pasta I slide it past the sweets I slide it to the tiny packets of crackers to the glory of the salad bar and I pick up a tiny plate with a slice of cheese a bunch of grapes and cellophanepoem
Past the cash I find my seat and this is where it begins: I sit and feel my bones fight my flesh I sit and remember the last time in this place. &n
Hi FriendI've got a sin and it tops all of the others. I've got a sin that I've written myself. Call me a whore cause I can't deny it.Hi Friend
The freezing's undone and all I can see, All I can see is my sin, my sins written over and over and over.
Now, I'm no Catholic, No, I am noo Catholic. There is no hell but the one I've woken up to. I can't complain cause I'm the one that wrote it.
Of Sentences and MonstersA girl and her words,Of Sentences and Monsters
her pens, books and musings. Somehow they bend,
take on new meaning.
A life of their own,
yet still holding the imprint of the person she used to longs to
needs to
cannot seem to be.
Every page, every line, everything so detailed. She may as well be looking at a charcoal
constancyconstancy: to be spread out over white sheets eyes wide awakeconstancy
when afternoon knocks at my door, I will be the picture of stability. concrete hands, heart, frame crumbling into an industrial skeleton and wishing I was soft as broken soil, the wind and water leaving bite marks at my edges.
it's five a.m. and I feel anything but human
--
i wear the cheese, it does not wear me.
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