Details

you bit your nails again,
you can't light matches anymore, you
complain about the weather and
how you are so sore, and
i hate you.
amazing, you're so well rehearsed
on every single verse, with
nothing but a metallic smile to
show me how you don't feel
at all.
you look so tired,
i spit caffeine into your veins
and try to help but
all my arteries are on the wrong
side of my skin

I need to write this word everywhere. Down the spine of the telephone handle. Inside my wrists. On the lens of my glasses.

I need to write this word everywhere. Down the spine of the telephone handle. Inside my wrists. On the lens of my glasses.

It's just that the other word, Forgiveness, isn't always sure to follow.

Somedays, I don't think anyone deserves any sort of human-to-human vulnerability.

These are the days I feel flattest.

Summer Has not Yet Begun

I think that I ought not to be living in this age and time. Really. i should be existing in the late 1800's. I shared this with my friend’s mother over the phone earlier, and she said, "Yes, I've always thought that about you. Then, or the renaissance. But maybe you did.(in spanish)" Funny, I never took her to be the metaphysical, other life type. I was reading an article the other day; I don't remember from what magazine or paper. It was talking about time travel, parallel universes, space/time continuems, and earnestly saying that a majority of scientists see it as a definite possibility in the next 100 years or so. Seeing as we have the New York Times, Life, The World, and Seventeen all stacked in the school library, I can't vouch for it's validity, but that would be absolutely incredible. Except for the whole kill a butterfly, change history thing.