divided

something that aches inside my chest like a monster or some ill disease.
does that make me unahppy?

i don't even know my own self.

dradle dradle dradle

why is my skin so
itchy?
thick?
pale?

i stepped into a room of parasites
i think it is because i got lost on my way
way to what?
to my home?
to my room?
to my love?

i cannot keep guessing.

i am too powerful for my own itchy, thick, pale sking.
and i cannot even sleep.
or wake up.

and be me anymore.


i am pulsating with this maddness.
i guess it is because she's a lie.


that's just it.


that's all it will ever be.


but we are all lies.


i drink the city up with my liqoured lips and irridescent words.
it is dark outside and my heart beats too quickly.
i
love
i love i love i love
nothing and everything.


everything and nothing all at once.

even if i'm embellished with your shiney shards of glass
and glued blue stone tears
and mint filled kisses
i cannot make myself you for any longer.

you are my maddness.

what is good for you

it is probably not so healthy that i sit here
thinking what it would be like
to have you
to hear you
and actually understand
who you are
and why you are that way
i am sick.
sick in the head.
sick in the stomach.
sick in the blood.

i'm just poison.
pure poison.
that is reaching out to feel you.
touch you.
fuck you.
rip you open and eat you alive.

i am so selfish.
any part of you i'd ask for would be to better me
to create a new me.
to make me loose the human me,
and enter into the metal.

i just want to be a robot that
care too much but
acts too little
and smiles to little
and dies everyday
and revolts.

i want to be you.
i want your intellegence.

i want your experiences.


i want you love.

importance

this is something i care about.
but no one knows.

and even if they knew--
the would not care.

i shall follow this up with
soliloques and mad obsession.

and even if my words do not fit,
my language not so perfect,
and my letters are not always right,
this is still a part of me.

this is, in fact, what has created me.
what makes me whole.
what will ruin me in the end.


and i am sure you will care to know.

you are keeping me alive but
i cannot even keep my eyes open
how ungreatful i can be
and how angy i have become

maybe you will suck it out of me.

connection

i am really connected to people i do not know.
i can learn just a bit about their lives and end up coveting their memories.
why can't their exeriences be my own?
why can't i be with them?
i believe i have made up this
fantasy world because my life just is not
interesting anymore.

seeing it all the way i've read and the way i've watched in movies or the media-- just the way it was described is what gets to me.
the fact the life is just as they say-- obscene and free-- it scares me.