Tuesday, August 07, 2007

the way i like to get hit

i am fucked-up real. somehow i stay thin, blow chances. i can coast like a penguin, but i don't have to. i can be awake like a car accident. punch me as hard as you fucking can, 20 class a cigarettes, pour me full of your childhood, i'd shiver for hours. 'it's dumb but i want some anyway.' LOUDly make me sick and i'll love you forever.

i go from church steps to park benches, 3am, go-juice in my bag, tiffany cigarettes in my pocket. i can't land anywhere for long, untie the knots in my stomach only to bruise my knuckles on whatever's handy. i want to be more than a passing blip on your screen. i am so fucking afraid that i will misstep and my blanket will fall away and it will all go up in smoke. i don't want to be stuck here forever; i need some sort of approaching dawn to keep me wired.

i listen to these songs on repeat for hours because it's better than thinking. 'too numb to know that i'm happy.' such a delicate illusion, but i'll chase it until i can't breathe and my legs are on fire, as long as i can focus on you some of the time.

i don't care about the things i haven't done, the rites of passage i've ignored, the common experiences i've bypassed. i just want to be the kind of person that someone could LIKE. i need to let go of ALL THIS SELF-IMPOSED ISOLATION AND WITHDRAWAL. i need to do the things written on this envelope, or else this will be another one of those ridiculous days.

no matter how close to the truth i think i'm getting, it ALWAYS comes out sounding like a bunch of gibberish. this MEANS something to me, i fucking SWEAR. i'm not just typing like a monkey because i like how it looks. i find the statement that will make me the most queasy and puke it out, assume it's some kind of THING.

but honestly, i'm pretty awesome right now. i've got loud music and a fast bike and a telephone and the promise of getting out of this portland prison soon soon soon. wedding bells in the distance, a blank desert slate. i dare you to look me in the eye.


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