the chemistry between us could destroy this place

will not be posting here anymore. friending all you on my new account. please accept.

iambicmendacity

This LJ username has been bothering me for the longest time, for the pure fact that it reflects exactly what I was as of October 2005. That's not me anymore. New LJ username to be posted upon its creation.

You self-absorbed angsty little bitch. Get the fuck over yourself. No one cares anymore, for real. Stop wasting space. You whine so much I'm amazed no one's smacked you in the face yet. Goddess knows you deserve it.

WHY IS EVERYTHING MASSIVE? LIKE SERIOUSLY, EVERYTHING GOT NUCLEAR RADIATION AND GREW LIKE FIFTEEN HUNDRED TIMES AS BIG! WHY IS MY FRIENDS PAGE THAT WIDE????

i can't quite figure out how all this happened yet again, but i can't say i'm upset by it.

somehow the heart i was holding onto fell through my fingers, clawing me on the way down. i went to pick it back up, but it was still pissed at me for dropping it, so it bit me and thus i dropped it again. once my hand stopped bleeding i went back all cautious and picked it up little by little again. he's settling back into his normal habitat nicely =]

that wasn't a fun few days, though. not gonna lie, it would have been quite nice not to have to go through them, but if it's going to make us stronger might as well get them over with.

i almost called him last night. almost, but then i figured it would be pointless because i would be crying too hard to make any sense and it would just piss him off that i wasn't giving him enough space. now, sitting in 405 and reading my friends page, i wish i had.

i miss what used to be.

i don't deserve it, but i need to be saved right now

Going back to writing letters to the people I need to reach. Need to get this shit out.

Oh. In case anyone has anything to say about these. I'm disabling comments. You all know how to reach me, and another LJ fight is the last thing we need in this kind of situation.

exhaustion fills
like cheap wine
straight from the
bottle, dizzyingly
awful with the
sinking knowledge
that the headache
you'll have
tomorrow morning
can only be
surpassed by
the two-hour
crying jag that
your eyes will
endure on the drive
back to your
empty hotel room
in yet another
empty city, the
only company
being the bible
in the drawer
(which you always
write all over
anyways).

you're always
tired, oh so tired,
these days.

what has you
weighed down,
my love?
the secrets have
been thriving far
too long to just
begin festering
at this hour.
you aren't sick,
look at you,
the perfect
picture of physical
health, if not
that of the
same in
the mental
standpoint.

maybe it's that
you can't tell anyone
that the words have
stopped coming,
what once had
come without strain
now forced to agony,
the screeching of
verbal fingernails
along criticism's
full-wall blackboard.

you know your
talent has betrayed you.

that wonder of
twelve years of age,
of porcelain,
crimson,
kisses,
friends with sharp teeth,
has become your nemesis.
you can't escape what
once was and threatens
you again.

sit at that table again.
the words won't come.
you would write with the
quill digging the words
into the back of your hand
(for you shan't lie anymore)
if only it would make those
evading words come home.

but this is no fairytale,
and you've nothing
left to help you here.

listen, okay? you win. i've got a plan, and this doesn't mean to sound emo, but i do, and it won't be too much longer before i'm out, okay? sorry to inconvienience you.