Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Why do I feel so fucking...wrong?

It's boredom.

I'm sick of the fucking boredom.




Everything is the same, every day. Since when did I let myself be okay with that again?
I miss my friends.
I'm sorry. I don't know the solution.



(not being with you for any extended amount of time when I know that I can feels like shit, so...)

Sunday, October 24, 2010

"Dude, did you see that banana just walk by?"

"No, there isn't one. Shut the fuck up."

"Oh, haha, right. I'm just way too stoned."

"You're on weed, not LSD. Quit being a faggot."

"Hey, don't use that word. Gay people are cool."

"I'm not talking about homosexuals; I'm talking about you. You're being a faggot. I'm never smoking with you again."

"Sorry..."

"Yeah, you'd better be. You're acting like an eighth grade girl on cough syrup."

"Really?"

"Yeah...just stop talking. Try to move with time. You know what I mean?"

"Yeah, time's like, breathing. It's so cool."

"No, time is not fucking breathing. Stop with your fake tripping. Weed is chill."

"Okay..."

"Do you feel giddy?"

"YEAH!"

"No, you don't. Shut the fuck up. I was testing you. You're a goddamn phony."

"I'm sorry."

Saturday, October 23, 2010

When there are things that are going to hurt you forever

and can't be fixed

what the HELL are you supposed to do?


_______________________________________________


Midas' touch was cold,
but you're a piece, dear,
aren't you now?
Lustrous...
lustre...
lusty...
lust.
I run my fingertips
over your smooth breast,
then knock with my four knuckles
and it hurts.
Don't mind it, dear;
you look good, anyway.
It only matters how you appear
from far away.
As long as no one touches, it's okay.
You'll be my
trophy love.