I feel very 'world-sick' today and unbeautiful
And upset about...
the way that our society is and i wish that we could just stop it all
and fucking "pop culture" and "death culture"
i hate the fact that we only get one lifestyle shown to us in the media
and one kind of body to be seen as beautiful
i hate how everything is so controlled by money
i hate how almost every human interaction and longing has been monetized
even platonic friendship has been ruined by facebook and such
i hate that we base our cultural identity on consumer products
I liked this lazy sunday, half-spent between bedsheets,
the other gazing sluggishly at the sky,
more than anything in an awful while.
I liked that cider, those soft kisses,
the quiet music, the joy in discovery.
Thank-you very much.
Cacographic exegesis bearing three words :
First, "I" ; Last "you".
The second, too difficult to decipher.
the truth about march :
abandoning frozen soil for
broken grass and dirty boots,
backlit dust, new infatuation.
a new promise for the boy who always says goodbye
but never quite knows how to leave.
i am feeling better i think but
feeling at all is difficult for
everyone i think.
i am just uneasy and i just want calm,
i am just so tired yet sleepless
'i love you' is such a complicated phrase.
because nothing before it counts.
knowing that the last person you said it to
said it to someone else
i mean i have shared feelings and experiences with people since
i've been in bed with other men and felt close to other men
and felt compassion and intimacy and empathy
and had beautiful moments
You couldn't believe how still I could lie,
Mooning over the sea and its salty breeze.
"Hold me, again!", I fumbled,
My friend the rose smiles,
"But I am filled with thorns, and
you have your own hand, now."
for without the fable of every eyelash,
every tear, i cannot exist.
(mon amie la rose me dit que je suis intelligent, sensible et rare
je lui répond "merci")
"Oh, nothing really,
you know how i can be"
Come one and all,
and you'll find :
The frozen faunlet, the snake-boy,
A floraphile, a marble statue.
And if you're observant, you'll find
a quiet boy, sitting on his own
staring back out at you.
"On le sent, chez toi,
tu n'es pas içi par plaisir d'éjaculer,
Mais simplement car tu cherche l'excuse
de toucher l'autre.
Ton incertitude te rend parfait,
une statue de marbre mi-ruinée.
Que je suis chanceux."
Hobbies : looking like a tired virgin,
Interests : Kahlo,
The algorithm of my being dictates a gravel-fill heart,
the bitterness of lime pith.
Sipping raspberry lemonade, tasting non-existant lips.
"What if it never gets better?", they asked.
(today is a very bittersweet and lonely day for me. a year ago, my ex and i started dating - safe to say, he's been a huge impact on my life since then. i can't forgive him, i can't forget what he did. we had this great big love affair, and it was the first time i truly felt real, genuine love. it didn't work out, but somewhere in the middle, we tried. we tried so fucking hard.
because the truth is, i hate the way i am, too. but he gave up on me.
so i'm sailing the high seas alone.)
answer all or any, i am curious :
do you dream? what was your last dream?
if taking your own life meant that 10 people would be cured of terminal disease, would you do it?
who are you?
who did you last love, and why?
what was your first love like?
what is your loveliest memory?
have you ever seen a ghost? would you like to?
what do you believe in?
how much of your life (dreams, aspirations, day-to-day activities) was pre-decided for you by your culture?
how much of your life is authentically yours?
why are some things evil?
How I long to say :
"This skin is not my own."
Meanwhile, I lie here,
dissolving in my indoors.
("i'm sorry because i was too young
to know what to do
with the way i was ready to love.")