Tuesday, 29 September 2015

I Hit The Bottom And Escape

     I'd be crazy not to follow. Follow where you lead. Tomorrow I'm moving out. I really don't know what to think. It's like I'm senseless. The same emptiness that's been going on for the past months. If I could find my reasoning.
     Yesterday, I started reading some of my two year old posts. I wonder if anyone ever bothered to read anything here. You know, it was always meant for my future self. That's why most of this is ambiguous and cryptic (anyone who's at least a bit clever will understand everything. I'm not so good at implications. They always come clear). It seems peculiar how dumb I come off at some points. I laugh at the things I felt and said.
     It's been a nice couple of years.
     To go along to get along.
     It's fine at Whi. Co.
     I cringe as fuck.

Saturday, 26 September 2015


     I'm completely lost in the world. But it's too late to fall apart. Absolutely lost in the world. And it's too hard to figure it out. I'm trying to find my way out. But it's probably too late to find my way out.
     It's been a long time since I really enjoyed anything at all. I rarely get the chance anymore. Maybe something new will come up eventually. At least I'm moving. And leaving everything silly and exhausting behind. Still.

     I can't believe how strange it is to be anything at all.

Monday, 21 September 2015


     It keeps coming to me. Portraits instilled in my mind. They linger on so quietly. Won't you help me hurt myself? In the line between fainting and sleeping. Drenched and immature. On the floor that we carved with our teeth and nails.Or staying calm and safe under our blankets. In the backroom  she's been hostile. And she fell for the thought of me. If I could trust her innocence. But I'm afraid of losing touch. I'll write it all down for you. And your terrible memory. I always go negative. Forget everyone you ever knew now.

     Our feelings have never been this primitive.

     Yell at the wall smash your face against it
     Turn your insides out and scream at your ovaries

Thursday, 17 September 2015

Get Your Head Out Of The Oven

     And all I see is little dots. Only in my dreams. I want to sleep all day long. No more daydreaming. I want to become even more shallow. Than what I already am. Pull myself under the covers. Hit me in the face. So I can finally faint and sleep. You're out of space. Listen. Don't wait.
     I saw sparks. I saw sparks.

Wednesday, 16 September 2015



     wake up at six. take a bus. travel for two hours. have nothing done. it's all done in static. people talking. getting angry, cars bumping. children kicking your shin numb. a masterpiece of sound and claustrophobic landscapes. fold it in your kitchen when it rains outside. then bathe it. break it. glue it together. let it mold in the sunlight and your cupboard. your head spins. uncontrollably. hope you're ready to make your own. good home. make sure all your tracks in the snow. are gone. stay/stop. 
     take a stab at this. show them you'll be alright. it is such a riot. smash your hand through your wardrobe. smash your fingers through the faux facade. crack your spine against the wall. show them you'll be alright. be eager. careful. and mislead. in your tiny little world. 
     you're freaking them out. 
     in your own.
     ice age.

Tuesday, 15 September 2015

Such A Riot

     I can't get out of what I'm into with you. I'm leaving my town in a few days. maybe even weeks. But the point is that I'm leaving. I thought I was frightened, but I'm not. I actually embrace the fact that I'm going to be alone. There are only a few things I'll miss.
     I simply wander around some familiar old alleys and streets, getting used to walking alone. I don't care. I want you to faint. And crawl back to dust. It's never even there.

Sunday, 6 September 2015

Going Up

     Let me squeeze a few words out of my mind. Let them flow through my veins. And pour through my fingers. Into the keyboard. It's this strange feeling you have. When you think you can actually say something that can change one person. It doesn't have to be more than one. 
     So you write. Words, music. Anything you can imagine. Then a hustle of drained and confused thoughts. Smashed through your wall. And poured from your mouth. Wasted materials. 
     You're going up. Oh universe you stink of love. Oh my place you stink of disdain. (I'm trying to be funny here)

     Chop. Chop.

Saturday, 5 September 2015

I'm A Pawn. On Your Checkerboard.

     I'm the left dust on your undone bed. The junk in your alley way. I'm not going anywhere. Your pillow is my world.
     Stand. Caress your colours. Dissolve your manners. Try. Why is everyone so stuck in their old stupid ways? (Don't think I'm not including myself)
     I can't even communicate. They simply waste my time and their time. Yeah, I'm pathetic and pessimistic. But I really like knowing what I thought about myself and other people six months from now. 
     Looking through all your dumb days. I never meant to help you. I just watch.    

Friday, 4 September 2015

Practice Makes Perfect. But I Can't Prove It.

     You walk past their filthy club. And the only thing that hits you is their collective stench. It's like waves of filth wrapped around your head. I think I've used that metaphor before. Don't really mind. Especially since I'm the only one who reads them.
     Cologne and sweat. Cheap cologne and Instagram sweat. And they think that I'm the one who's crazy. I'm one of them. And I'm worse than them. I'm phonier and more pretentious. I FAILED. I can't stand out. I became everything I hated. I care only about myself.
    And off course I care about the way they perceive me. Can you forget them? I might be wrong. False. I hope I am wrong.

    Have you noticed how at least half of my sentences start with "I"?
    I 'm afraid I can't go back to where I started. I used to feel happy all the time.
    Now my fake smile rules my world.
    An excuse to avoid talking.
    I don't even get along with myself.
    How can you get along
    with other people?