from my keyboard.

Saturday, December 31, 2005

31st.

its new years eve.its supposed to be special.like the night before john lennon died.but the air tastes the same.it tastes of disappointment.and a bit of salt.where are the balloons?where are the streamers?where is the fountain of rejuvenation?maybe i missed the party.

Friday, December 30, 2005

bloodlust.

im smoking the night away.
im smoking away 2005.
i've clung to the months
like
leeches.
sucking at the very sap of my days.
i can drain myself.its an art.
im special.
like you.
but they accuse me of everything but who i really am.
if only they knew.
im a slut.like you.
like you i can touch feel caress kiss.
but my palms
are stained with the love blood of tragedy.
(i despise its smell and taste.)
and i will smear this purple on cupid's fuckin face.

Monday, December 26, 2005

journals

" i have the choice of being constantly actively and happy or introspectively passive and sad.or i can go mad by ricocheting in between." - Plath