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Let it Be,autifuli. Perfect moments are never planned.ii. No moment is perfect.
dying takes practice.after a while you get used to the panic every night where you quietly rush to lock the doorknob you can't see and then, like a sigh of relief, hyperventilate collapsing and shaking on the bed. you wish you had a blanket or something on top of you, but you know it'd still be cold if you did.you lay there and fade til you don't feel anymore.you get used to waking up in the middle of the night with nothing in your chest and tears in your eyes - the ones you were wishing for earlier, just so you could at least feel something leak out. you don't even pretend to wonder why they're there. you don't pretend to act surprised. you wipe them off with a hand and draw your knees up to your chest.eventually you'll fall asleep.you get used to that moment in the morning five minutes after waking when you remember exactly what you'd fallen asleep to forget. at that point you just bite your lip and whimper a little before sacrificing your feet to the floor.you wish the day wasn't going to be so lon
Ink Stain BruisesI don't hold a pen theway you're supposed to.I write like a littlelefty child,quietly rushingto scratch my sick words outas my hand drags itselfacross the page.And I can'ttell you how much theink stainson my knuckles look likebruisesfrom beating myselfevery otherother night.And I can'tstand to see melike this.It's embarrassing.
Oneironautin the dream i was happy.dancing in thesunlight tothe drumbeat of mycollarbone, waveswarming my face,my back,as i turned. mywrinkled eyesshut tight - laughingly,knowing that [ nothingi see willeven come close toThis].not a god, butgod-like, as timefolded itself intoevery infinitecorner of my fragile skull. silencebursting from my lungs,just likespring waterfalls:i am lost.i am there.i am beautiful.i amfallinginto myselffaster than i can think, pastany event horizon, pasteven my fingertips:reachingfor nothing, butthe grass reaching forme as i--
Electromagnetics and ...Electromagnetics and Other Strong Forceswe sit here andyour eyes drift off tofunny walks withfunny hats andinteresting tidbits of lives. iwait there and stare with nowords, onlyfeelinglike deep, warm rivers pulling me closer. yourdaydream comes backdown to me andnowi notice my cheeks aretight the little mouth cornersr e a c h i n gfor my ears. [it'snot their fault, they justdo what they're told,like electromagnetism and love] but yougive me an eyebrow:"what?"you laugh nervously. ilook away andblood flushes skin but mylipsdon't even try to hide teeth, because--"...nothing.you just make me smile."
pineneedle skini wish you were hereto graze mypineneedle skin, to hear mybreaths like quiet breezes throughleaves, each calling your nameto watch me with faithful eyes -mumbling, fumbling -as i nervously pick thebark from a treeYou know what I mean?'Cause I'm not even sure I do.you'd probably smile that smile thatsays i'm ridiculous, andtell me that i alwaysthink too muchi'd stop and feel the sweatevaporating from my neck,as cirrus drifted overhead,minding their own businessand i'd listen the morningbirds thatdon't need words to sing, andi'd sayYeah, you're probably right.