“Find what you love and let it kill you.”
-- Charles Bukowski
(but that's just the problem, see.
i love the whole world & everyday it breaks my heart.)
i don't sleep very much on weekends.
on friday i had work all day then i went to hang out with the drug dealer i mentioned in a previous post and he's nice.
then i went to a rave and went through all sorts of adventures
i took long walks in the woods and got lost
then i went back home and played video games, slept a bit, then had dinner with the family and slept more.
yesterday i drank a lot of gin and i accidentally drank mdma-water
i danced a lot and my drug dealer boy was there and he rubbed my back
i want to give you my ghost, my being in the next room.
an absence to replace a presence.
a lingering anonymity.
please go away / i want to be held
i never want you to know where i am / come and find me, bring me home
i want to be in a place far away from everyone, alone where no one can find me / please stay with me
(also i'm a moonchild now and the moon is forever a part of me
this brings me great comfort)
i wrote some words on subway seats last friday :
"i love you & your private hell"
"you're not strange"
"where have all the flowers gone?"
then i went to a "party" and i passed out in the tall grass
and i woke up at 4am and started to dance again and then i stayed up until noon and slept a little and then i ate a little
then on sunday i went dancing during the day and evening again and it was really hot and i got sunstroke again
I'm so frightened of letting someone be close to me because I don't want to hurt them, I don't want my sorrow to be shared, the last anyone needs is more aching.
And also, in a smaller way, I think I am very afraid of having someone be mean to me. I think some things can't be fixed with "just smiling" or "toughen up", I think some things can't be fixed with a medicine cabinet or a shady doctor.
i write the word "missing" on the paper, to look up and find nothing
i've had an odd summer, working hours during the week and going to crazy parties on the weekend, putting all sorts of things into my body and talking to a lot of people. i kiss a boy sometimes but we don't really like each other all that much. i went to europe too and saw lots of beautiful things. i can't believe the world is so big.
i guess i feel very lonely though.
i do feel very lonely.
"Let's go to the sea-side!"
"But I'm already drowning."
"if you could say anything to the world right now, what would it be?"
It used to be that my body existed only where he touched me, leaving me bleeding in a better way. Everywhere the blade-tongue touched I found tulips growing from the lacerations, I found the bedsheets touched with rose-water.
I think the problem was always that I had too much of this blood inside of me but there was nowhere for it to go - or maybe I never had any at all. These days I seem to be leaving red stains wherever I go, like on her white dress or in the sink of some hospital's bathroom.
sometimes you're a guillotine :
the stopping of breath,
the rushing of blood.
my soul is six hundred ungathered garden lillies
I hope that heaven has a hospital where they write sonatas on doctor's notes and play nocturnes with intravenous tubes. I hope the nurses don't forget, I hope the doctor isn't cruel. I hope I'll get flowers while I'm sick. I hope it won't hurt so much, I hope I'll be okay.
three and two hundred and five hundred milligrams in a girl-heart have the capacity to make everything sweet and baby-soft, i could smile at certainly anything right now.