Wednesday, February 4, 2009

i was inside of something alive____ _ _ ___

i'd rather not listen to anything than grab and feel off of someone elses influence.

my lips are sticky with a taste i don't remember, and the blades that mark my shoulders feel like raw strikes of white light, hot and soaring out of my back. i can still feel it in my breath, trapped when my mouth's closed and too much to ever actually leave when i finally open it. i rummaged through dead trees and twig paths to find the right spot, to hide and watch. flickering and wavering, i sat and lit up. it all dribbled down with me as i lowered myself to sit, everything became stiff and starched. it was like someone had to touch it it, in order for it to ever move. a world of sharpened images, two dimensional, thin like paper dolls. trees and birds sat like they weren't alive, just plastered to the earth, or to the front of my eyes. i could drink the saturation. i waited for it to all come to life, pop out at me. but everything remained flat and hard. until it all sort of melted, bursted and sprouted out in the moment. i watched the land breathe, and i hid my secret in the slim ditch i found next to me. as i walked back, through a gate i was sure i was not supposed to surpass, i knew no one would stop me. no one would say anything. i could walk home, maybe not safe, but without surprises.

7:34 pm: i've got nothing to say about anything that would really make sense. i'm sorry, i wish i had something more for you. the days all start the same: waiting until i absolutely cannot resist getting up any longer because i have ten minutes before i'm supposed to leave the house, putting on the coat with permanent fuzzies, slipping on shoes without thinking, calling, hanging up, calling, hanging up, making a list of what i should do, an "eventually" to do list. scrambling out for a day that won't be too bad until it hits fifth period (and even though my day ends right after) the day instantly becomes a drag from that point on. ab so lute zer o. once that moment hits, the bell rings, the hallway crowds thin out, it's all a mess. like water colors, askew and splattering on to your clothes. you're sitting all pissed off because you have a whole day to go before you can wash it off or change. getting a stain on your sweater right when you go to where you wanted to be, which isn't your house where you can fix the problem. it's that. it's drip drop drip drop my moods shift in phases and the dead twigs, passages between the trees behind the graveyard, won't fix it.

i have a problem. i have some quarters, a new book to read, a nice pencil and a sketch book meant for everything and anything, need it even be sketching. i can create a solution.

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