Let's get one thing straight, I am not your friend. Don't joke with me. DON'T TOUCH ME. Don't pretend like you care or that you know me. I don't even want you to look at me. I regret the day you slithered into my life. Like a disease, you spill into my world, contaminating everything. And when they try to make it better, I bleed more.

"Here comes the rain again
Falling on my head like a memory
Falling on my head like a new emotion
I want to walk in the open wind
I want to talk like lovers do
I want to dive into your ocean
Is it raining with you?"

I'm full of blood. It's pouring out of my mouth. Through my fingertips and out of my  eyes. Dyes my hair  crimson. I want to brand you with the truth. Slice your body open to see what I'll find. Paper cuts and a black ocean.
When I finish  this cigarette, the world will end and I won't be able to breathe. I'm drowning in your darkness; lost without my umbrella.  You can't shield me forever.

"I hold no grudge
Deep inside me there's no regrets
But a gal who's been forgotten may forgive
But never once forget..."
The power of forgiveness; and I am weak. Fueled by hate and anger. Pill popping to stay sane. Up with the owls.
Your very presence mocks my existence. But I will survive you; bloodied and torn, I will have my revenge.

untitled, again.

Change, like a tidal wave that drowns me. leaves me angry. Anger sweeps me away in ways that are undefinable. In ways, that are all consuming. When I open my mouth, moths fly out and burn in the glare of the sun. There is deafening silence that obliterates everything else.  I used to keep a picture of you in my mind. When I try to recall the "why" there's a drawer full of ash. My brain, like a  clenched fist, so wrapped up in anger and hate, that words are replaced by fingers and sharp nails. Red streaks on your back and a punch to my stomach.  You've taken away my air. It's pouring and my umbrella is full of holes. Red is the colour of my revolution. "ne me quitte pas..."
"I bring you pearls made of rain from countries that don't have rain."
It's a crossroads at the gates of hell. Both ways lead to doom. How dramatic. Do you even know how to read poetry? Your facade is tiring. How many academy awards do you have?  I'd melt each one and dunk you in gold. Forever a golden goddess. At least then you won't harm anyone again. Where is my hatchet? I would bust you open and steal all your coins. If I start talking, I'll never stop and the words that will escape my mouth will taint everything and the world will change again. There is a sign above my head, it reads: it's a new dawn, it's a new day, and I'm feeling good." The letters are almost as faded as my  memory; of 4 lifetimes ago. When I ran with the dinosaurs. Even the T-Rex is graceful. But you, you're like a hornet's nest. Buzzing and conniving. Creating conflict, sucking air out of lungs that don't belong to you. "words like violence, break the silence. Come crashing in, into my little room." You're like an R rate movie, unfit for minors due to harsh language and violence. You are verbal violence. You violate everything. You've tainted paradise. You've broken all of them. And when they break, then what? Who will clean up the debris? Will you handle it with care? Or just sweep it away, into the landfill. Create a landmine with broken bodies? Orange juice and napalm. Everything I want to say is exploding in my mouth; over and over again. I have no teeth. I've swallowed so much blood, I need a Dr.

thing behind the sun...

it's funny how there are things that lurk in the back of my brain. things that nag and beg and plead. things that have no name, no emotion. but they're there. always humming some forgotten tune under the buzzing of the brain.

sometimes it feels like a ticking bomb ready to explode... severe all neurons and thoughts.

then that little faerie voice: i've done it before, i can do it again. i'm wiser now. it'll be easier.
and then the horrible what ifs start to cramp my style. like ugly liver stains on my porcelain skin they torture me.
the what ifs of my youth.

and now, in the midst of this quarter life crisis, there's an exit, blocked by security. blocked by familiarity, by settlement.

but my sense of adventure is alive and well. i am determined. i will fulfill my destiny.

"one day i'll fly away, say goodbye to yesterday..."

my moulin rouge awaits.

anger....

if i don't do something about this rage, i'll explode.

just call me stew from now on.  it's the perfect word to describe my hatred... this loathing that just sits and stews and boils... it's consuming in all ways... in ways i didn't know were possible.

i want to destroy. just call me tyler durden.
i am jack's inflamed sense of rejection.
i am jack's broken heart.
i'm drowning in blood.

where is that fucking happy place of mine? where did i put it? like so many other things, it's been misplaced. lost or forgotten.
i'll just jump on the bandwagon and leave. maybe this is my chance?
one way ticket to Paris, to my beloved Moulin Rouge. surely the world is waiting for me... right?

will they have my brand of hair products? the right kind of oatmeal?

if i stay away, i'll never come back. can't you see that? my well-being is at stake.

when you talk, i want to scratch your eyes out. pull your tongue out through your ass. i can't listen anymore. if you talk to me, i'll scream. i'll start to cry and go mad. but you won't care, b/c you're a bitch on a leash. with your cool rational... fucker. you're on my shit list, you fuck! there aren't enough 'bad' words to describe my contempt for you. you can go ahead and die for all i care. you and that miserable whore....

if i had a tumor, i'd name it....

put a gun to my head and paint the walls with my brains...