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
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
For Light/B1/Dark Helmet/trashbag boy. I see you. 👀
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.”
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*.”
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.
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
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
how alone they are
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.
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.
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