unfinished

agitation is deep/ unseated it’s not safe/ not the kind of agitation/ the agitation you/ can control/ an agitated agitation stirring up riot within/ for what?/ you’re not exactly sure/ But you’re determined/ to keep striking out/ hitting harder to hit deeper/ going wider instead of deeper/ shallow cove of thoughts unfinished/ like everything else in your life/
love you had the last time/ you loved for the last time/ you’ve been loved before and loved after/ but only daring to fall once/ jumping and deciding/ don’t down/ it’s fine/ that’s best and usually only way that it – love – is done… cutting too deep/ sending you, too far

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HowCrazyYou – “R”

be the misa misa in my crazy death note be the misa misa to my light yagami he told me he told me he related to L more but i know i know the evil within him the evil within me plowing into me from behind injecting his soul into my blood and me loving loving loving screaming for each moment of it for more more more hit me harder harder till i bleed i’m the misa misa to your light yagami write me a death note
i did.

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For Light/B1/Dark Helmet/trashbag boy. I see you. 👀

i sat in front of him at the show

I didn’t want to see him but he was there and everyone was dying – she was dying and I couldn’t do anything about it i wanted to get her away from me but that made her angry but her face was wallpaper sanded and her skin hung as it clung to what was left of her bones i hadn’t seen her in years but now my job to take care of her to be there for her but i didn’t even really remember her name but the face remembered her face the what it was before face i didn’t know the new face and he was going to be there too and i didn’t want to go but i did i just wanted to figure out where it went wrong where it went wrong and the world coming in and going and going and trying to hold on floating through scenes and decrepitated houses with mold and old wood beyond redemption houses white people love to save until it cost them money and as long as they don’t have to live in them live in them like that with the empty rooms and decrepit wood and the killer in the halls and doors not locking and wondering why he’s coming for me but knowing that he is and that i have to save her even though i don’t want to don’t like her but love her not that don’t like her a scared to death of her because she’s terrifying with her skin in bags her bones ready to be free to move on to leave without her and her eyeballs peering out in terror of the leaving of what she knows is yet to come
but i sat in front of him floated by him hoped and yet hoped he would yet wouldn’t see me because want to be seen but don’t know how to react how to respond how to reach out where we went wrong because because because he’s been gone now for a while never gave him my new number because i had to get a new number or i didn’t but i did had to get rid of him not him the one in front of me but the other him the one with the octo arms grabbing back and now searching for me so sporadically and yet consistent the emails and emails the emails why doesn’t block work on him how much money does one need to stalk someone who doesn’t want to be seen seen by him and the knowing that he is looking and looking and looking
i don’t remember the show at all a lot of lights floating on the stage some kind of game some kind of highschool thing or something old something supposed to enjoy supposed to enjoy but not feeling it and wonder if i’m the only one who doesn’t get it so just sit there in a giant magenta hat hiding from him in a world of black and white and mostly magenta accents and bright yellow lights
i thought it was fine that i’d gotten by away unseen and it was sad because so aware of him of his presence behind me they want me in the room they’re coming for my life for my eggs to make babies with three because she’s old and she’s withered but the one i need the one who i thought could save me won’t come she just looks at me from his arms and grimaces and they dance as they float into the hurricane air the air of the storm building or built or over but she’s always there looking on at me from above judging judging judging
there’s a fence a tall fence a fence around a field that not supposed to go into but have to have to jump float between the houses from houses from houses until i get to the decrepit house where i’m late for that i’m supposed to be at now but can’t seem to get things moving forward can’t do anything more than try to float to jump float kick into the right direction and not backwards though the wind pulls it pulls and the leaves are tangling in my face
and he calls to me he calls to me should i pretend to not remember his name? i’m half way in the fence and half way out and he’s aduacity he’s sent the two women on ahead the women i don’t know but assume are his they must be his this is denial talking okay fine they were his women there at the show with him one on each arm one with a hat like mine but older both older than me i look like the little kid the naive little child that i am with him he’s got those sad eyes but when he smiles he smiles last saw him in an instagram pic not his he’s not on social media of course he’s not on social media he’s too cool but not not above it or below it just operating in a different zone and different level neither higher or lower and frustrating level for kids for the kid i am compared to him i’m a kid just a silly little kid who who somewhere hidden liked him denial again denail again and again i liked him i thought there were there with him the potential of we but he didn’t see or he did
why did he never text me back?
i still don’t know was i too high or was no is he too old too old to try again for the we with a baby i understand i want to think but denial i don’t and now he’s calling i don’t go to him i just look around and pretend not to see him searching for ‘someone’ who called my name i know his voice i know it’s him but i don’t want to look at him immediately don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much i hang on hang on to him to his every word to his every moment every moment he’s been gone but not he’s been there still been there all along just me i’m the one who left stopped showing up stopped going to see him got shy got ashamed
why didn’t he text me back?
he’s asking what happened after i finally look at but not right at him he’s wearing a magenta top with jeans and a sports coat like the kind linus wants to make eventually
i don’t want to don’t want to write this moment don’t want to remember the moment the heart skip the wonder why the floor hurts so bad on my hips my shoulder collapsing under me don’t want to see him to acknowledge the power denial the hurt the hurt he caused and is causing me a frist friend a frist chance but he but he
why didn’t he text me?
text me back… something the shirt is silly it’s blatent and sexy in a female way it’s the top of the dress Porsha Williams wore with Phaedra in the vacation it shows that undeniable that the women were with him and he not with me not on his mind doesn’t i know
i know
why he didn’t text me.
the rebuttal to his hey hey are you pretending not to remember me? the rebuttle
why did you never text me?
text me back just left me hanging and hanging and now have a new number a new track but don’t want it but do because need it it’s necessary and yet what would he say sa
“You talked about Tom too much.”
so you see? it’s him. him until the end until the waking the murder the slaughter the men the men he says talked talking but what about the jokes remembered in the morning and the weed his weed we smoked
denial the potential why because he’s old? no because i’m a child.

dedicated to Jason. I miss you. and Yes. I still remember your name, your face, and your accents. Maybe someday we’ll see if there’s more.

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Jen***** 8.24.17 Thursday
– ideal situation in 1, 3, 5 years.
– variety of food and body positive on Pinterest and Insta
-What was most traumatic part of being w/ Br*****? -seems like really rough sex – especially since he was your first – would be traumatic…
She noted down about how even at a young age I didn’t want to have kids or get married.
“The pressure to not waste your 20s coming from outside yourself really women feel pressure if they are wanting to have kids to figure it out before 30… but since that is not something you want – not a factor or cap for you.”
I’m free
She talked bout the societal conveyor belt – starting even in elementary – you have to do this and want this – all the way through college then get a job then marry and then have kids.. people find themselves married and with kids and don’t ecen think to look for somewhere else –
Aug 25, 2017 Fri. 15:26 SM Jen******
– I told her about liking the idea of snow-birding – she said growing up in Florida she is well familiar with the concept – how I miss hiking but just too hot and miserable – and sun – that’s right you’re a vampire.
-how it just sounds nice to go on a hike everyday in nice weather – like nana in OR – take pictures , listen to podcasts, and write – thinking about extending lease and then moving to Denver for next summer~
-go back and forth between Austin and somewhere in the north each summer
-She talked about how there is all this pressure and ideas about what you’re supposed to do with your life/20s… how if you do this and this and this – marriage, travel, kids – you’ll be happy – people just do those things… she said that it sounded like I had a pretty good idea of an ideal plan for the next five years – that it’s something can keep working on
“I mean what else are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. Live manically – spend lots of money and party. but that doesn’t uncomfortable to me.”
“Happiest when I’m hanging out with Kay** and just talking art and anime at Sum*** Moo*.”

Descovering Ska

The discovery of Ska in a world that doesn’t know what it’s talking about.

We’re bobbing we’re grooving in a legit dive bar, and what i mean by that kids is that when you order a coke with a shot of whiskey you get a whiskey with a drop of coke, all for three dollars though so drink up kids we’re getting drunk.

the picture on the wall is changing colors molting into something it wasn’t before and wouldn’t be a moment later.

“It’s the lines of perspective. Which side looks closer to you? The light side or the darker side?”

“… The darker”

“Really? Because it should be the lighter…”

“Oh yeah… I’m seeing it. I’m seeing it. … Woah.”

There’s a guy up there with a curled mustache that he’s meticulously waxed. He’s been going out to the car to check it and re-wax it since we got here. He was the first person i saw. I asked from the back of the car if we knew him. “Do we know him?” no one heard me but Jamie rolls down the window pulls up slow and they start talking, about i don’t remember because i’d taken a big hit off Rina’s new pin when we stopped by her place to pick her up. Probably took too big of a hit but is there such a thing naw.

Now the guy in the middle, a younger Claude Monet type guy with his shock white beard and subtle plaid green golfer cap on, he belongs among the lilies, and he’s shorter than me which isn’t a big deal for man nor woman since i’m five-ten. He begins singing in another language. A language of the beach. I’m so high I no longer understand english. I turn to Rina after a few beats and ask “Are they singing in English?” because like any experienced stoner; I know that when things seem weird the first thing to do is check in with another to see what their reality holds that’s different than my own. “No. He’s just making things up.” “What?” “He’s not singing in any language.” The confusion on my face remains. “He’s not singing words. He’s just making up words and sounds.” Eye widen. Mouth forms ‘O.’ Rina’s laughing. I turn back towards the stage. *what is happening what is happening* Stun gunned down by the men singing in tongues.

I throw my hands up and let the music take me letting out haphazard laughs Rina and Jamie are ahead of me they turn and look back at me later, later Rina tells me, “I love your face” “Quel?” “It’s so honest. You express genuine wonder. Unlike Jamie and I. We’re just dead in side and make snide jokes.”

people tell me that…

Special Thanks to: Jamie – for getting Rina and I to go out, Monkey – for being my first and raddest Ska band, and Claude Monet – for the water lilies.

BumblePie

today – Molly killed a bee. She didn’t mean too. She was on the phone – headphones if you will – with her bestie Abi.
She’s high because she always is and was pacing around outside her favorite coffee shop – current favorite – because they get better connection outside – that’s what he said *high fives herself* – when she stepped on a little leaf that crunched like a bug and thinks ‘oh I think i just killed a wasp.’ Because where she’s from there’s yellow-jackets and ain’t no fucking around with them so in her mind – before picking up her foot – she’d done a good thing; a favor to society and it’s susceptibility to getting stung.
and then she lifted her converse.

THE WORLD IS HAVING A FUCKING HONEY CRISIS AND FUCKING MOLLY IS SMITING BEEESSSSS

She buried it under a tree.

Not a word was spoken. The beehives all were broken.

so bye bye mr. bumble-bee guy i drove my converse over your body so of course you died
the future children are eating plain cheerios
singing all i want is to see the mystic bee-hives

How Alone They Are

i wanna run until my body withers away

until the ache in my soul goes away

until the pain in my somache is gone

until the muscel spasms stop

until my heart ceases to be

until i’m no longer me

they don’t tell you this, but sometimes all you can do is run. it’s not an act of shame yes it is a loss of control but it’s a loss of something greater the loss of believing that those around you will understand and accept you for who and where you are.

when you’ve done all you can do. to try and love them. to love them. to be there to be what they want to answer their “try me’s” when you say they won’t understand after staring blankly at them and their lies of ‘i understand’ followed by their own life story that has nothing to do with you and who you are and what you’re going through

that’s when you gotta run. it’s not a running away. it’s a getting to a physical space of what you know to spiritually be true. that you are alone and no one sees you. no one can help. and really, they don’t want to. don’t want you. want *you*

she’s not crazy

she’s just the only one who truly knows

yuno_gasai_render_by_ashleytheskitty-dbbomgk.png

how alone they are

house.ghost

there are ghost in this house.ghost of unnamable horror. they drift about like nothing is wrong. one is dying one is not. they’re beautiful the public says they have money the colleagues say look how far they’ve come how far they stepped back how much one has lost one faster than the other stepping into a hole only pal-bearers should fill but not yet

“God I’m so jealous of how skinny she is!” “I know same! That’s like my dream body.”

the clock down the hall.

ticks.

Doll Parts

Doll Parts because that’s what expected of the female body. To fit into an idea – not just body types beyond that there are all KINDS of dolls remember – but the ideal of legs without blemishes and shakes and firm arms of perfect mathematical proportions. And sure, Courtney at 5’10” literally had a carbon breathing copy of a doll body… the only flaw in it that actually made her more sexy because it showed that she was the magical doll brought to life are her veins.

but there are two kinds of dolls.

the beautiful perfect dolls.

brand new

unplayed with

un sullied.

and then the scary dolls

the one left on the floor of a haunted house the kinds that boys bring girls too to feel macho to have the excuse to hold her hold her hold her tight the sweat of your hands dripping off on to her contaminating her sully sully don’t be sullen, doll don’t cry

kept on display and laughed at merely a trophy in the case or a terrifying dream erased $5000 drops to $5.50 three dollars if you’re lucky in a car wondering why

you didn’t go to law school

and there is joy in the breaking for them joy in reflecting on the memories of when she was new when she was fresh when she was something to collect and the best part about dolls is there’s always a new model and fish can die on plastic legs

daughters aren’t safe that doesn’t solve it ‘oh everyone is someone’s duahter’ exactly sicko and ever girl born wanting dolls becoming one

but men fuck dolls

and money fucks men

when the money runs out and the meds aren’t hard enough

the ache will come

and your heart will die.

PRESENTING THE LATEST MODEL