Fact

They always tell you things you want to hear.
They always whisper sweet nothings when all you want is a meaningful anything.

For Fear Of Being Redundant

It sure is lovely when you know the flag is about to unfurl and all the ties that you hold together are about to slip through your greedy fingers. What goes around comes around, and whatever it is, its about to make a pit stop right next to you. Taste the bitterness of your own medicine for a change, let it blur your vision and impair your judgment. The day of reckoning looms so close and my baby, you don't have a clue. I have not the energy to drop hints, you'll stumble over yourself without poise and skill. You'll be your own demise and I'll watch it all come falling down, knowing I pushed the first domino. Farewell friend.



dream me oh dreamer
open your hands
and let them weave onto yours.

Bad Blood

Bad blood runs through us, through the tension in the air, through the diverted eyes and the eerie silence. No words necessary. Stomach is a bottomless pit of resent and possible guilt on the other side of the battle field. Jokes untold, lips share the taste of the same partner one the loved, the other the loving. The past and present, the possibility of future lingers just like the bad taste of back stabbing. We bite out lips and hold our tongues steady, they keep our secrets, our harsh words, our weightless apologies and notions to raise white flags. A civil war in a sense, scramble to recruit your men. Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth, friendship for a friendship, spite for spite. A loss. A stalemate. Stubbornness dosed in flammable awkward silence. We're never alone, always filled with someone else. This will climax, just strike a match.

Simple Teething

I'll get under your skin
trace your pulse down your neck lay my seeds in the cracks of your self esteem
tie you up in thoughts like the coarsest ropes around your neck
feed you poison, have you melt into me.
Mix my colors into yours to create a palet of blinding color
suffocate you with myself
you'll never breath again
you'll never breath again.

Out of Site, Out of Mind

Take your leave while you still have you dignity. Four months from now out tires will by cut once and for all, you will cease to pull at my strings 3000 miles away from the place you once called home. Hopefully it will meet your high expectations of climate and culture, or studies and suns, of dreams and dillusions. The unfinished business will rot because you're not returning to clean up the messes that you've made. Always adding ingredients with a slightest smirk, always adding them to your melting pot, ever overflowing on to the table and down its legs, staining the marble and seeping through the cracks that we've created. I will not sit with a map on my thighs tracing your futile journey, the lines won't define anything with substance. You decided to take the highway as oppose to the highroad, and yes you are running away. You can leave town and coast, but we can never call it even. You've tipped the scale and laughed in the process. No, you'll never understand. No you didn't break me. Yes out of site is out of mind, but no you'll never be far enough away.

Sometimes.

sometimes I wish people weren't brick walls
weren't mindless pools of themselves
weren't endless tunnels of self satisfaction
I wish people will purge themselves of temptation
of fixation and desperation.
sometimes I wish people weren't hollow
weren't emotionless
weren't self affirming.
sometimes i wish i wasn't a person.





For Whom The Southern Bell Tolls

-Don't play the Victrola now honey.
-What Victrola mama?
-Any Victrola.