I have got to get out of here, get going, get moving, do something. Restlessness is setting in again (posing as fatigue). I want to be around people again. People my age, people I like. I need to get my hands dirty (figuratively). The theory of learning by solitude is great. However, its practice is trying.

What begins as a simple itch, a longing
soon turns to me and offers
another
drink. Which, with shaking hand,
I accept.
There is only one way to delay
this disease but I can't swallow anymore
of the lies I'm telling
or the pills I'm taking.

They begin to stick in my throat
and bleed through my skin.
My unherded thoughts rip
through the pores of my scalp
itching like lice.

The panic rises and readys to take the controls.
Hands flutter and smooth poison skin.
These clothes are too heavy
it's too hot
skin flares and burns and cannot be soothed.
My hands fly across my body
trying to keep everything inside
where it belongs.

My hair is falling out.
My nails are rotting in their beds.
Gums race back from teeth
making a mouth like slack-jawed roadkill.

If you could see this feeling;
dark ink suspended in the air around me,
like blood dropped in water;
a smokers haze,
a cancer patients death smell.

I can't hold my breath long enough
to dive under
and so my mind sets off alarms,
the traps I set for myself
-spring-
one by one and all at once

and I've forgotten the safety net.

Don't be afraid,
she whispers perfectly into my ear.
Her tear-sticky cheek is pressed to mine and
I can feel her lips painting their color
onto my overstretched lobes.

I wish I could say I don't know what she's talking about. "This girl is clearly insane." I'll later say to my companions, a half raised glass masking my words. That, like much of what I say, will be a lie. I try to think back to when I first encountered the crazy-not-crazy girl, and find that I cannot. It seems she's always been there, hovering on the borderland of my memories.

Fuck It

I'm not throwing in the towel, I'm using it to wipe the sweat from my face as I face down reality, uncertainty, lonliness and desperation. There ain't no point in turnin' round now. It is what it is and it's always gonna be that way.
so
keep on pacin'. One more step 'cause even with 3 back for 1 forward, a little progress is made.
Heel/toe
Heal/tow
Heel/toe

Starving Artist

I don't think I've ever been as poor as I am right now.
I've got student loans rolling in (anyone know how to delay those?)
I can't drive.
Pubic transit doesn't run reliably enough to get me to a different set every day.
If every mile I walked today was worth one hundred dollars, I out-paced my bank account.
A collection of people owe me more than double the contents of said account. (Shows me how trusting to be. What a pricey lesson).
I don't know how I'm gonna make it through the new year.
I don't know if I'm gonna make it here.

Lucky enough

There is strength in knowing who you are, even if it isn't who you planned on becoming.

We are lucky enough to know
not who we need to be,
but what we really are.

Monsters.

Fuck.My.Life

'Can things continue to fall apart, please? Because that's really what I would like to happen.'

She said with sarcasim.

I'm friends w. boys

they do bad things.