The softest bed sinks easy when any heart with significant weight spreads their wings next to me 

So sad to be so heavy 

Jawbreaker- accident prone is my fave love song I align myself with raw punk which is vapid no light  style without beauty let me indulge in great writing. Everything I want to say that song did it I’m dry and gay but it’s perfect on repeat while I drift oceanic Michelle I am a wave for a day my time is now loved  but will end as short as it started 

Butterfly time

Today I left my bed without any provocation. I rose and dropped out twice but I put on my boots that I can’t afford to fix and walk in these destroyed heels I strutted through Tompkins and a group told me they loved me. It’s easy to forget what success is. I will never be a stable girl, money will evade me, I will get ripped off. The only people that get up photoshop from us like Henry Tye Sam Eugene Robin Everett or Margret. Our success will reward our authenticity as those darlings that build on us are ashamed whenever we occupy a room. My circle can laugh and the other defends as we drift in zero finances and they marry well I do prefer what I’ve done than catering to the other side. I should stop being so ashamed of myself. 

If I am an artist stolen by the higher echelon of New York royalty let them know my name, though I’m asking too much it was curated hands away. I was worthy of getting played without the family name to exel. It most is so so so so boring though their vapid brain of driven fame I’d never switch places. 

I have no interest in ever being in love again. It hasn’t ended in joy or fulfillment in anyway. Just mistreatment and no one ever admitting their faults. It’s immature ugly feelings.

It’s curbs all creativity to. Anyone that’s ever done anything great did it alone (except for dead moon)

That’s all

Pill prayer

Pill prayer/nursery rhyme pt 2

And if I die from shallow breaths from

mixing coke with my Xanax

Know that I loved but a few those
I told it to was all beautiful it was all true 

true

true

True Blue 

Dropout lonely

 For something so huge that is changing my life I had no one to call no one to rejoice with. Awakening  that no one then cared about my heart emotional or if it beat the same. I see the people that wanted me to be tepid water. The grossest love and the ugliest hands. They wanted me to tread but I grew on my own and I bet you fucking hate it 

All the signs were there and not worth an ounce of despair

 Lips like this don’t mean much they can kiss and never feel a loyal breath even to ask to wish or worship to deem love best of all its a basic thought that thinks it triumphs ever. Between bags and bottles infidelity infects. There was never love here. Be dragged and told the worst but lips don’t miss love was never real through the worst adjectives brought it’s better to let them drift but my kiss isn’t.

 People are just so fucking mean you can cry and apologize and still be an ugly framed drowning 

i dont write in stanzas on this stupid website

everyone thinks its a riff how i write or articulate i wish i was so poetic that there is the distance thats discussed in college classes i wish i had distance but i am so starved for intimacy
my life was so ruined when i was given away and i should be over it by now in old age
i prefer small rooms and no lights no windows i fawn over never knowing time never needing chairs, to sit up right and if i got to go outside it was to wash a mans car in a wet tshirt, that was when i realized i loved performing and id only be happy on stage. i starved myself to death and i always swallowed cum for men that said their wives never loved them i was eager to replace my face with Mormon women in their late 20s, thats how i was rebellious as a teen. some boys dye their hair or yell at their mom or steal from bodegas, i broke up marriages in a town throw towards and if on my own woulda became homeless, it was so far from new york at some point i wish they let me leave but i could dream i was was still a rebel youth though i didnt have a choice but we frame success in our own minds i was the best and i hope his wife couldn't satisfy him as good as i did i needed a reason to the best, a reason to live. Mike Iau is someone if i could afford i would kill. theres enough hate in your heart if you feel somethings right. if you see a loser nypd bitch dying from a wound asking for help id watch as he bled out id never help, there would be joy, no PTSD on watching that agent die, id enjoy it, interpret it, watch his eyes go hollow probly go to spring lounge and never tell a friend, not worth a text, no remark to a friend that happened, my special moment. thats how mike iau was evil ugly heavy rapist but rape was so casual i wish there was another word. if a whole community says yes is it rape? its coercion? we are all teenagers but id beg to be first, what does that make me? id be the first to ruin if i had a weapon or poison and the day i got out i kept it to myself, not my brother or my mom a close friend. no evidence just sayings, phrases, and  quirk hooks hed whisper that me and others would remember. fifth year i made it home i found his wifes myspace cuz it was before facebook and before iphones. i told her what hed whisper in my ear if it was the same thing he said to her while they fucked, that i was sorry if this ruins her life, that i needed to cause pain i needed a life ruined even if it was hers, she may be victimless person but did he say the same thing while he banged you out like me. she responded yes, he still works there and shes married to a better man. no ones life was ruined but mine. they have choices who to be with and i didnt. i still think theyre friends tho i see the comments on facebook, i stalk them for years because i cannot move on as social media changed. she had the disdain to stop a marriage but not enough hate, not to condemn rape. no ones worth hunting, love is love through ugly, the outcome will never help, its just so lonely to have animosity. the results of the hunt, the men win maybe i broke up a marriage, thats it, five years of planning for two people to grow apart happy. all my body did was make them realize they werent right for each other.

reality: you harbor the horror since you cant grow past it. you see so many living beautiful lives and you dont get it. why cant i? move on. i dont have the power of someone that held me and passed me around to make them kill themself, the first time i realized i was truly weak. it wasnt during, i was good at it during, but after with internet and dissent i could barely cause a man to step onto the tracks. i am not hardcore.

because youre broken, youre sick, you have been passed around and so damaged, an eternal burn victim inside never healed. so you attack love, you arent allowed to love. always a boring ugly victim which is an eyeroll to anyone interesting. good things happen to people that take care of themselves, kind people realize wounds and help another, dropouts are always victims that project and propitiate the cycle. i am the latter a fake women, a half man deconstructed gender of a problem i cant get past. i am the vacant eyes of any men that wants me. i am ban from love i attack so we can hold hands in the depravity of nuanced losers who make our fate.