April 27th, 2005
|12:57 pm - starburst and cigarettes|
the thunder rolls
calling out to me
more insistent as i wait
it approaches like death to claim me
the death of my mind, my conscience
like the death of the unborn child
i have imagined
my bolero plays
dancing in the rhythm of the storm
as i long to dance
i have not the heart
i am filled with this cancer
this depression fills me
smoke in my lungs
smoke in my mind
my death comes to me
and i long for it
and i long to escape it
and i long for the padded room
i have imagined
i don't want to be
the crazy girl that i am
the crazy girl that they will remember
they will only remember
as the crazy girl
but in my room
my pretty padded room
my pretty pillowed room
i find no responsibility
i find no depression
i find only solace
in the music in my mind
in my bolero
i dance to my fire
the dance of freedom
i have imagined
Current Mood: scared
Current Music: bolero
November 29th, 2004
Yes, I miss him, but it's not like I think about him everyday. It's only when certain songs come on, really. The sad thing is that we'll be so different when and if I see him again next summer. It won't even matter anymore. But that's life, isn't it?
Current Mood: contemplative
Current Music: Helena- My Chemical Romance
October 10th, 2004
|06:06 am - Greed|
My august lover of handsome face,
Thy name and sin is Greed.
Not Lust, though you are of roguish sorts,
inclined to flatter and whore.
Not Wrath, though you are short of temper,
and magmatic at your core.
Pride is close, for you're vain and cocked
one eye on the gilded mirror
And Envy fuels your namesake, love
as it also fuels your fear.
Indulgence and Sloth could not be yours,
they are simply not your style.
So that leaves Greed to be your crime,
it seems the only one worthwhile.
Current Mood: beautiful
October 2nd, 2004
|12:33 pm - Postcards From the Edge~ Carrie Fisher|
"Remember that line from The Philadelphia Story?" she said. "'To hardly know him is to know him well'? I feel like that's us, like we'll just go on and on and on like this, but we'll never quite get past the incandescence of that first meeting. There's this sort of dull phosphorousness we maintain now, but... I mean, on a certain level, you're the closest thing to love I have in my life right now, but it's still very far away. The closest thing I have to a relationship is very far away. I think that's interesting."
"I'd like to meet someone like you," he said. "But there's no one more like you than you."
"Maybe we can get somebody to introduce us." she said. (107)
"...Well, I feel attached to you, let's say. I feel an attachment to you. I've grown accustomed to whatever this is, and I like the ambiguity of it, and yet..." (105)
"I don't know what I want to find anymore," she said. "I've gotten so involved in searching. I've done it for so long it does me. The genesis was truly to find someone, was truly to make an impact, to bond. The difference now is that since I've never found it, I proceed as if I never will. Now I'm just into looking, not finding. Winning, not the prize. And the prize is the winning, maybe just the three minutes when you've actually won. That's why the sweetness of the sexual contact is perfect, but it can only be a disappointment afterward. Because all you wanted to do is get there, not be there. All you wanted to do was want, but not have. As soon as you fuck it's over. As soon as you fuck." (89-90)
Current Mood: exanimate
Sitting here drinking too sweet coffee gone cold, I think of all that has happened between us. And it's all such a jumble in my head, the perpetual headache returns with a vengeance. I miss you.
killing myself with manufactured poison
Drowning myself in caffeinated arsenic.
The misery is a parasite in my stomach
eating my insides
rewarding me with pain.
Losing weight, sleeping too much
Filled with glee when I can ignore you.
My smiles are fake
I'm filled with disgust
I don't want to be here anymore.
Miles away, I'll be safe from this
Hunger you'll never satiate.
You courted me once with smiles
and promises of passion run wild
Now you court me with apologies
and promises of "Next time, for sure".
I'm tired of waiting and longing
Tired of not wanting to want you
Tired of not loving to love you
I'm drained of carrying this burden of emptiness.
Current Mood: I'm not sure
Current Music: Anthony's Song (Movin' Out)
September 24th, 2004
I started this journal so that I could talk about the things in my life deemed too dark or racy to be included in my normal, bubbly, girl-next-door journal. And now, I'm constantly worried someone I know will find this one, realize it's me, and wham! There goes everything. I'm constantly thinking I should make some of these entries 'friends-only' or just make the whole journal FO. But the whole point was to expose everything but my identity. Obviously there are similarities between the two journals, as they are written by the same woman, but while my original journal is more everyday menial entries, this one is soaked in my creative writings and riddled with my deadly sins. She is the optimistic, bubbly, sometimes angry theatre major, the college-bound jeans-and-hoodie girl, while I am the dark, lusty, cold and mysterious director, the black lace bohemian. One would say this sounds like schizophrenia, but the truth is, we are merely separate the yin and yang of my personality.
Current Mood: moody
September 18th, 2004
You were playing the game too well, my dear,
knowing there were no rules to break
So I made them up as we went along
and you broke them all anyway.
And now you're making a fool of me-
you know how that makes me mad
But maybe that's your point, my dear
Is that your covert plan?
I think I see a pattern here,
perhaps your strategy?
But I've found I don't like games, my dear
unless the rules were made by me.
You made me miss you, made me kiss you,
then came back to claim some more.
Then you made me wait, but I don't wait.
I'm not your occasional whore.
So here's a kiss for luck, my dear
and one more so you'll wonder why.
It's been real fun, we might play again soon
But for now?
Well, it was all well and fun while it lasted but I've come to the conclusion that married men are just too much work. Summer flings don't last through fall, and that's really all this was... Just a summer fling. A strange one, but one nonetheless.
Current Mood: amused
Current Music: Summer loving, had me a blast...
September 16th, 2004
Plenty of passion to fuel
Creativity of the hands
Liquidity of whispered words
A lone author now?
Abandoned, we've only a few pages left
But can my shaking hand fill them, fulfill them on my own?
Pages turned, my lesson learned
but still so empty and no wiser than before
Dipped my pen in the ink
Struggled to keep the words from spilling
My fear of love's calligraphy
Stemming from fear of marring the paper I write upon
The words I've left are innocent and chaste
Platonic, for all the world to see
But put you under fire and the truth will show
Yellowing under the flames that burn
Every scratch of my pen
Every stain of our lust
The unerasable marks we've left throughout
An unforgivable, unforgettable book of sin almost committed.
Current Mood: depressed
September 4th, 2004
More times than I care to admit,
my thoughts have wandered through the night
to memories of you.
Thoughts of your skin against mine,
your hands lingering so,
claiming favorite curves of flesh.
Ghosts of your lips tease me,
set my mouth on fire,
only to be quenched by a kiss.
I long for things I cannot explain...
To travel on the continent of your skin...
Living only on the taste of your body,
salt glistening in the heat of desire,
of passion too long denied.
Arrest my mind, release my soul, and let me call you "home".
Current Mood: melancholy
Current Music: Gloomy Sunday- Sarah Brightman
August 22nd, 2004
You twist and sigh with Fate's decisions,
Captive in this misnomered cage of love.
We falter and hesitate at morals ubiquitous,
Wasting time that is not ours to spend.
Finding myself in limbo again,
The world seismic beneath my foundations,
I warn that hesitation may supply only heartbreak
As soon I may be far out of reach.
Linger no longer, my friend and love,
Our intrigue has reached its sweet denouement
Bittersweet and sudden, we had only so far to roam
And now we have only to write the end.
Current Mood: a sad sweet melancholy
Current Music: Whenever There's A Night - Mike Reno