|
04.23.03::12:39 this is disgusting. smile pretty for the camera, it's the last time that my eyes will behind it. categorizing and capturing every aspect of your movement so that i can pore over them afterwards and prize my precious catch. pick my feet off the floor and lay be down in that bed of ashes, it looks so comfortable and stickly warm from the blaze that you just lit. gasoline on shreds of my skin and pieces of your eyes. hairspray and ink don't do them justice and i'd rather weep. i'd rather see this plastic antique smash to pieces and relieve me from the light and water prison of your face. i'd rather see your face contorted on paper in that stupid face of yours that always makes me feel like i'm doing everything wrong. on your bed, on my streets, i can't imagine not seeing you before my camera flash. i can't imagine myself pretending to be great by any other means.
water stains and torn skin, i'm empty of ideas and you're to blame. give them back, please, i want my life back. it's not yours to play with, even though i let you pretend. get over my false denials and empty promises because you're no better. you're no fucking better, and that's not my fault. keys jumping awkwardly out at me, and i can barely keep these broken synapses at bay. a mutant army of limp and lame broken sentences, each one revolving majestically around you. i'd rather be broken by him again, right now. i'd rather know that he was out with that whore than you preferring to not be with me, or your empty sighs ratting over the ancient telephone wires making me sick, and stealing my blood out drop by drop. and i doubt that you even realize what you're doing because i'm not that, you're not that. whatever. stop. necromancy. |