Miscellania

A fortune teller once told me I was a free spirit and an old soul. I have never heard a more sincere truth.

I have not felt as pure, as wholesome, as carefree, as I do right now. I am water. I flipped through some issue of Life & Style from August, as P.S. I LOVE YOU played on HBO on demand. I am finally fucking free. Of all of the bullshit, the hidden egotistical motives. If I were a character in NBA Jams, I believe it would be said that I am "ON FIIIIREEEE!" Fuck you, and your numbers. Fuck you and your propositions. Fuck you and your confinement.

Porcelain white bright chalk sterile spit and saline swirl, old habits come crawling up the drain. Looking like the girl from the grudge, like bullets they hit me my thoughts the water from the shower head coughing choking spitting white wide pupil Sleeping sickness, walking tremors tremble, stumble. Bright teeth glaze ceramic body sobs and shakes Always attentive, always aware. Skeletons in my closet. White, bone, glare.

that my heart has just "broken." My hands are ice blocks. All of my organs have sunk into my shoes. You weren't strong enough. You still get the last laugh. Every noise sounds far away and indifferent. I will never see the sun the same way.

Everyone thinks I'm a pothead. Everyone assumes I'm so blasted, so out of my mind high I have no idea what's going on. If only this were the case. If only I did not have the self respect and intelligence to not "pass on the grass." If only I truly knew such absentmindedness, such obliviousness that will put these ghosts away. I am a prisoner in my own head, Oh, how original is this sorrow?