And · In · All · His · Perfection.

And time is like that momentary rainbow, the foam atop your frapp before you turn into santa, the dew on the lucid emerald swords that are callously forged into the earth, the chanel clutch you promised you'd buy me, the waiting and the waiting and we will all raise our hands and celebrate to the shatters of yesterday's future and tomorrow's past. tomorrow will be my safe haven.

I am the patron saint of lost causes.
Aren't we all to you just near lost causes?
Aren't we all to you just lost?

its amazing how loud the silence screams, no warn no warn no warning.

to spend hours and hours: head a whirlwind in itself and find you alone again. the basement it reeks of your old perfume and the love we used to share and i'm really tired and frustrated i can't study what on earth. to think, and to think why not. (why not)

you sit alone in the dark and you pretend you're asleep, trapped in an eternal wonderland where perfection is nothing but expected and you hold back the tears and but then your hands creep into the spaces that should have been there, to soft and imperfect and tainted and you stifle a sob, you are so disgusting. your arms encapsulate your head, again and again it hits the floor, this time you dont try not to cry. the pen into  your hand and you go again, again and again into, if you hit hard enough- scratch hard enough, perhaps it will go away. and you crawl to the mirror and in the sliver of moonlight you peer into yourself, into a pair of frightened brown eyes and your vision shifts to the other parts of you you wish were never there and a certain feeling engulfs you, you cant place it. tears run and eyes close and once again it hurts. it hurts- to pinch to pull to tug to slice to wish to look, it hurts to fucking look. and god tells you you are beautiful but are you, will you choose between the reality that is what you are. every single minute, hour, day, second and you are broken, the round and the hate and you detest you, tell me how to help. i can't save you. it will go away, it will only but go away. (leave her alone)

everything in its time: i thank god for you, for all your love and concern and you have made me the happiest in a long time. thank you, thank you thank you. when i hold your hand my heart frenzies i laugh to myself because i care about you too much and you make me more content than i should be. thank you, for being you for always surprising me with beautiful words and beautiful smiles and beautiful things. you have done more than i expected and you amaze me. one day we shall run away into a steered course rainbow and do the things weve always wanted to do. miss you as long as youre not by me. and till my phone titters a certain distinct harmony.

as long as youll have me.

pangs.

light up little girl, your cellulite does nothing but illuminate you, your pork sausage ankles strong against those buoyant against stormy seas. light up little girl, why cry over split milk, you wipe and wipe and wipe it away but it remains, traces and sin of your past sins, light up little girl, break it open, tear it down, enter shards of shattered dreams and pick up the pieces, scars make you stronger for life. because he believes in the little girl, and thus you must be strong strong stronger than you are, plunge headfirst into a downward spiral and dont get up. dont recover, you know you want those bones and skin and you want people to gasp and cry over you and you want to feel light like the wind and you want to fly. don't recover because you know you love the attention. don't recover, because you are scared you'll never go back. i feel sorry for you, my very own little girl.

(all the time i was writing this i was thinking of you)

chapter after chapter ink on ink we plough forward, hands scalded and cheeks scarlet, crafting our legacies on scraps of parchment, expensive costly no doubt. we laugh and chide the uncertainty that smothers the bricks and concrete, red yellow blue pink gold a distinct contrast against cold and unfeeling, 'these peasants, with no parchment'. then a particular image strikes us, the form of which is our own, a magic so new and so fresh we squim in discomfort, hellfire. the relation it is identical they are identical they are the same. and the parchment shall not divide flesh and bone because, sharing is giving no? (sometimes i baffle myself).

jelly beans, 'i hate the black ones.'
(no you do not)
now what about the white ones, the yellow ones and the brown ones? what about the red ones from the toil under a searing sun, the green ones from the nausea of blackouts and callous tattooing, over and over crimson on burgundy. what about the blue ones from winter's embrace, the lime greens and oranges from incessant beats, beat beat beat goes that ticking marionette, she is matt and she solid what about them.

jelly beans, 'i hate the black ones'. (no you do not)

no you do not, no you do not, no you do not.

lets scream into the mouths of degenerate fools; they are a projection of dystopia, a progressive decline as we scour down channels of kings and their dreams which are not ours. lets craft fairytales out of the nothingness that is our blood on the ground before the castle, cry rivers into pages and pages as we soak them, in essence and in spirit. i could fight fires and i could run into people and into spaces and dance with flowery patterns that spoil the customed auburn oak horizon. one infinite in all its worth and oh blessed day are we lucky. a shooting star you say, a sparkling diamond, something right, your lullaby that aches when we're not together. the sweetness of your lips and in your eyes i see blue black, brow beaten we are and we are somewhat, but somehow. one day i'll fly away, leave all this to yesterday. why live life from dream to dream? and dread the day, when dreaming, ends. funny, my fingers nested on my neck, i can't feel a palpitation.

sky score spike dive huck sprint & conquer.

get better.

remember when we were kids we used to lie chin towards the auburn skyline and wish for rain. whats to do with a generation like mine, so bogged down by social standards i wouldnt go near the term 'emo' its terribly cliche dont you think, lets just go with we have many problems. so could you teach me how to look beyond, and smile like tomorrow exists because i want it to, i dont want to be one of those tragically distraught individuals with outbursts and tear streaked faces and facades. teach me how to live properly, because i want to- and right now,

josh groban is screaming opera into my ears, and my heads a whirl of flutterbies and cream pies its clogged someone get me a plumber.

why cant you be strong for you.

i've never been one to avidly blog, to document my life in accordance to calenders, more of when boredom over inspiration strikes i'd post something in regards to the contents of that. funny how people appreciate language beyond their comprehension, the complication of it all does it dazzle them? i think simplicity works wonders no i'd type something basic, like today i went to the farm. the farm- with all its contours and animals and smiling trees, its seven eleven heavens when the searing heat of the summers day gets to you, and its unbearable lavatories with their grime and dirt and things. simplicity is best no? i think its too early in the morning. birthdays are a myriad of emotions, rollarcoaster rides ending in laughter and joy and tears or vertigo wrapped in distraught destruction headed- really no one should spend their birthdays alone.
11 cakes.
i think that the older i get the less i feel. is that strange? perhaps its the pressure of the cosmopolitan society that is our world, the hunger to find love, gratification, certificates asphyxiate everything that could mean more like the sun and the clouds and the rainbows and those fairytales we used to love. parents and their boundaries and fences we cross but never seem to completely leave behind. perhaps we ought to open up our eyes and look the hell around and breathe in and know we're breathing in, and not be mechanical robots, for me to say the least.

like i said, its too early in the morning, and i have ceased to function effectively.

what happened to all the pretty words and pretty things we used to write and used to say and now they are gone all i can give you is my smile, its empty though i'm so empty. and round and grotesquely round round rolly polly sam. what happened to all the pretty words and pretty things i used to write and used to say and now they are gone all i can give you is my smile, its empty though i'm so empty.

pointing lasers boat rides you make me smile, and i wish you knew how i felt.

till the day my life is through- this i promise you.

i wish you cared for me the same way i do for you.