what would you say if i told you that i have no strength left for you because i'm using all of it for every second to hold myself together. keep the sauce from leaking out of the bag. my innards from spilling through my seams. and even as i say this i feel like i am spilling over and everywhere, not of glorious light this time as i would hope, but just shameful alarming darkness.
i would like to quote a certain Sexton, as i always do, that i am "making mistakes i gotta make, and i am glory-bound". but perhaps not this time darling, it's hard to say something like that with any sort of conviction when i can hear doubt echo through my teeth.
long mornings spent alone and compulsive. if you come close you can maybe see my hands shake. only very slightly, because they are also frozen, my dear, you try to warm me up but not in a way that works. how can it be that it didn't work- what if nothing works- how can i be sure if there is a something that would work?
a sudden fear of being exposed brings me back here. my tumblr site is too airy for me to discuss how i'm at odds with how ugly i feel inside... i can barely look into your heavy liquid eyes.
she's not here @
9:31 AM
THERE'S A BLUEBIRD IN MY HEART THAT WANTS TO GET OUT BUT I'M TOO TOUGH FOR HIM, I SAY, STAY DOWN,
DO YOU WANT TO MESS ME UP?
Came a time, when every star fall brought you to tears again
Bookworm
Currently Reading:
A Confederacy of Dunces
~ John Kennedy Toole
On the Road (again)
~ Jack Kerouac
Wishbone
my greatest wish would be to wake up in the morning everyday and just enjoy a yummy breakfast at a quiet cafe, tea, soft light, a good book..
or to wake up in a different suburb, an actual countryside this time, to have a home at the end of the world.