oh well

guess i gotta leave yer flaky ass self behind and continue my fairly fruitless search for a beardy metal d00d to kiss that isn’t shitty

i run on a complicated combination of impractical bravery/stupidity and sheer terror of everything/everyone

1.

I can’t sleep.

A friend told me it was going to

be a full moon tonight but the

thing blasting sheets of light

through my window can’t be

the moon. I hate it.

I feel sick from the glow

2.

I am terrified, always. Fear smoothes the

creases right off my dapper button

down shirt. He told me don’t be afraid of

nothing. I say 

how can you not be?

this whole living business will fucking kill you

3.

I drink honey whiskey out of my 

own palm and cry out:

spring illuminate my sickness

I wet it with booze and a weak hope built

on wobbly legs and the

drunk arms of others

4.

In memories, a house show. Too many

punks, plumes of ripe smoke trying to

choke the awkward straight out of

the air. The drum kit beats my 

hurt and I keel over, folding like a

rotten petal

5.

Please please please I

plead to that wretched 

full moon

let no one yell at me when I am

walking home. You fuckers and your

howls. Loping sloppy and 

dangerous over the bodies of

those you read as women. If I could

speed the metamorphosis 

I would be wolf and rip your

goddamn throats out but i am

not sure if even that would

make me feel power again

6.

Lying to yourself at night can be

perfect sometimes. I am

hot headed, brimming with furnace

leaving trails of powdery ashes on your

kitchen floor, on your toilet seat

the front porch of a downtown coffee shop

the bar where people play jawbreaker on the juke box

in the pasta aisle of the twenty four hour super market

in the places i only go to when 

everywhere has trap door shuddered and

slipped from under my 

feet

Great piles of ash.

brickhomes:

sometimes
you all make me
feel so
alone
i don’t know
what you
want from
me

(via steppingoncracks)