"soulmates"

humans don't even have souls

her red covered head fills with such
bullshit
tasteless orange skins
on the inside you're disappointed
you find it withered and dried.
pulp, just pulp.

his face is such:
broken cheek bones
the face of something dead
something on the brink of death
and yet she holds on, she holds on.

and you heat up
you steam
and you scream
like a teapot fit to burst
with boiling water that scalds tongues
and shuts people up.

"when i was born i was one solid color"

Why do you try?
it always ends in failure
in disappointment
and regret
she's done trying now, too.
and this is the end
and it will always be the end.

you now think of her as dead
and it would work if you never saw
her pale face
and glaring hair
pass you all the time.
her contrasting face is now one solid color
visually sick.
you avert your eyes every time.

eff

your problems aren't here to be your problems anymore
convenient.
and yet
sad.

rufus wainwright.
hallelujah.

repeatrepeatrepeat
beautiful.
learning
and building
and dreaming.

i suppose

time skips
scratches on a disk
or scene to scene DVDs
and each time it skips
hops and jumps
the time you missed
it slows double time
to make up for itself
you remember,
but you can't remember living it.

generator

loud humming- vibrations
water running down
clear 'n black against red
raging rapids
conveyer belts

and no one looks.

nothing ever seems to go right for you
you don't know why
but you guess maybe you deserve it.

closing eyes
you're half gone now
you wish you weren't
but you can't control your gas mileage

you can't seem to control anything really
but yourself that is.
and that's really the way it should go.
but you wish otherwise.

blind

worthless
you hate how she changed

you like being blind
it shields you from things
that you don't want to hear

fucked

you day dream instead of sleeping
you make it just to not make it.

friends>lovers
or so you think


maybe you're the one who is wrong.

new years

makes you want to vomit.

though
people's hopes and dreams
their secrets
colored papers and glitz
they all fall down upon millions of heads
filling people up
blinding people's eyes to things unseen

ways the stars line up
creating different shapes
too big and too different
and maybe pointing you in the right direction

you bring so many things upon yourself
you know.
you don't care
and you let yourself feel these things
flipping thrice throughout the last hour.
7 and 16 and 28.
and you stop.
you stop.

and, hey, maybe they were right...



"Please let me survive!", as they were locked up inside.