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15 April 2009 @ 08:54 pm

27 January 2008 @ 02:17 pm
We met again with the deepest blue, tempting us with his depthless eyes.
They seemed to ask, "Where is your will?"
Unable to answer, we averted our eyes, trying to come up with an excuse. a fault or two. an understanding to make understood.
Silent minutes passed by agonizingly and the unanswerables hung onto the stagnant air between us, mocking us, as they curled up into a wisp of nothingness.
"Five years.
You have still not outgrown it," he said, disappointed, as he turned to walk away.
A thousand arms, screaming in desperation, seemed to reach out, begging to follow. To be dragged along.
"You'll never be able to go anywhere with those feet nailed into the ground."
He scoffed, walking away now without hesitation.
The thousand outstretched flailing arms stopped.
Then, faced with the awful truth, they detached and fell one by one onto the ground with the unanimous feeling of frustration.
The self-severed arms sighed, fingers twitching, as they surrounded the pierced, swollen feet from which trickled out the deepest red.
Yet not one of them had the will to pry those rusty nails out.
Current Music: Joy Division - Twenty Four Hours
30 December 2007 @ 08:32 pm
I'm in a pickle. a pickle jar.
Cupping in my palms your dripping regurgitated shit.

How lovely, how lovely, we cradled these thoughts. Repeatedly relaying them amongst ourselves.
Our linear smiles met end to end, describing best what words alone could not scream.

Fasten your fingers beneath your seat.
Anticipate the anesthetized descent.

I turned to the side and saw you smile as the back of your head melted off of your bones.

So easy peasy like mac-n-cheesy.

Our eyes drooled out an unending flood, washing away your skin.
Yet still you sat with your drawn-on smile, blinking away like the flashes of a dying camera.
Current Music: The Man With The X-Ray Eyes
06 December 2007 @ 12:20 pm
mind shelves full of dusty locks and keys
mind shelves full of rusty locks and keys
mind shelves full of musty socks and peas

the sullen chippings and stains peer out of the jagged glass with unblinking eyes and many years of old lies.
how quickly we forget.

reminds me of this lovely memory of those two carefree children.
"we were twirling around umbilical cords, flapping about in the naked trees whilst gleefully tossing fecal matter into the fan blades which hung from above," she thought out loud, sitting inside her wooden crate.

"Lots of narrow empty spaces, Marcy. Lots of narrow empty spaces for you to think."

We shuddered in unison at the thought of being thoughtless.
Current Music: Specimen
10 November 2007 @ 12:18 pm
The malnourished box, with her steady diet of ball-point pen ink and notes in d-minor, peered excitedly over the edge of the dust-blanketed cheap wooden shelf. and with splinters digging into all six sides of her corrugated being, she exhaled the moldy cotton and rust, closing the flaps of her dog-eared eyes, and collected a dozen more bloodless splinters as she shoved off and dented herself clumsily three shelves below.
"how beautiful those scissors looked from above," she gargled, examining the fourth of the scissors' blades which jutted out awkwardly from beneath her chin.

we love our audience. we do love our audience. the gloated eyes glazed over and whispered.

welcome to the nation of irony and synchronized failures.

i yawn at your five-year plans and self-loving resumes.
whilst painfully laughing at the blank sheets of creased paper in front of me.
Current Music: Sisters of Mercy
19 December 2006 @ 12:50 pm
inevitable, unstoppable transformation.

can you visualize it and laugh?

the words of a madman, floating through the cracks on the walls, and slithering its way into your flaring nostrils.
never, you say, will you be such a nutcase. and you lift your chin and your chest swells with pride as you take a deep breath and inhale the insanity.

strangeness. the comforting name. strangeness. the circulating game.
when will the obvious hit you like a hollow brick made of stained glass?
when will you finally get to laugh your last breath away at the realization that you could've realized it sooner had it not been for your thick skull which is now somehow ironically cracked in half by that delicate stained glass?
when will the word be but a sigh?

as your shaking fingers reach up to feel that gaping, jagged opening in your head, the fingers of another reach out and desperately grasp yours. and the grip of the being who is attatched to those clammy fingers turn cold and sinister. a baleful grin replaces your twitching mouth and your eyes widen comically until your sockets become caves holding your rattling eyes until they eventually rattle off of your face, hanging down on your neck like an ugly halloween necklace, leaving you with the feeling of fresh nothingness blowing into your raw, hollow sockets.

standing there with your fingers in your skull, your eyes dangling wildly, and that toothy, cheshire cat grin slapped on your face, you turn and face the sliver of reflective glass that is left of your shattered bedroom window.

looking back at you, the well-mannered girl gives you a polite smile, slightly bows, turns away, and bids you farewell, walking off of the windowsill.
the suave, well-dressed gent tips his hat, grins, and steps off of the reflection.

you yank your fingers out of your skull, walk closer to the little sliver of blue glass, and wonderingly run the tips of your shriveled fingers on the edges. it cuts through your tough skin like butter, and the last drop of sanity seeps out of the cut and splatters onto the windowsill and drips off onto a long blade of grass outside your window.

leaning outside to watch it slide down the blade, you forget about the long sliver of glass as it stabs through you.

the fingers in your skull, reach out and down, stretching, and rips off your dangling eyes. as your eyes fall onto the grass, you catch a glimpse of your body, bent over the sill. and then, a droplet of sanity trickles off of the blade of grass above your eyes, lands on your pupil, then slides off.

the last sensible tear you will unwillingly cry.
Current Mood: amusedamused
Current Music: Opeth
04 May 2006 @ 04:01 pm
i feel like i'm constantly getting hit over the head with bad cases of adhd.
dirty, dirty briefcase.
nothing amounts to nothing.
in the end, i keep looking back in that notebook of ticked off days and organized schedules and realize that i've hardly accomplished anything.
at least i feel so.
when you start to realize how fast the weeks are flying by, then seem to fly by even faster. show offs.
i'm now in the process of trying to un-realize.
the days when you seem the busiest person in the world are a laugh. if you can visualize yourself looking down on yourself, you can clearly see how miniscule and insignificant your tasks are.
i realize this when i think life is hectic. then i look up at the me who is looking down and watching, and we laugh together at how silly we make the littlest things be.
that hearty, gut-stabbing, vein-popping, blood-rushing-to-your head kind of laugh.
stir in the cynicism.
and congratulate yourself.
imagine, 50/60 years from now. the crowd's clapping and cheering kicks in automatically. you stand up, smile, bow and walk to the stage to receive your plastic award spray painted with high-gloss chrome. just a few more steps 'til you get your calloused hands on that cheap, sparkling trophy. and you trip on the stares. the stairs. stares.
congratulations. you've won yourself a full year of bad puns and ridicule.
the laughter will never stop.
Current Mood: amusedamused
Current Music: depeche mode
18 April 2006 @ 01:53 pm
for once we agree.
we all share the unanimous shame kept hidden under our thick skin and lies.
for months, we've been working together in that tense atmosphere to solve problems that can only be fixed by letting go of our pride. i know i've lost mine long ago.
he's getting old. the problem is getting old. perhaps the only solution is another death. or two. or few. hahakidding. their scared, shifty eyes, glance at me as i crack another somewhat morbid joke. i don't think. just say. it's about time i stopped thinking about what other people will think about me and actually show them what i'm really like.
they look at each other searching for assurance that they are not insane to prove the fact that i am being absurd. silly, silly humans. they've seemed to have forgotten that in between their outward masks of fear and their inward pots of boiling hate lies a non-porous film of cellophane proving that their outward expressions are nothing of what they feel inside. and they chuckle with pride at fooling another fool.
the night fucking came and went.
another day poorly spent.

regret shows up late, if ever showing up at all.

i don't know who you are.
Current Music: opeth- harvest
21 March 2006 @ 02:09 pm
If only things could be simpler.
She tries to recognize the faces, but their countenances blur. Constant shifting motions. The humming of the reel as the crank rewinds setting the past in the present, their voices all combining into one big climax and then, a hush, as the tape reaches it's end and one static image burns on the screen, the monotone colours blinking, mouths open, gasping for air, arms outstretched, reaching into the nothingness.
A single click erases it all. And the image dissolves. Their mouths gaping open in a silent scream leave an impression on the white wall, and then fade. Melting like the clouds. A wisp of nothing.