Friday, June 24, 2011
i just want someone to love me for a day.
and then i can close my heart to the world.
maybe.
(but i'd still starve my left limb off to trade you for a slater ;D )
now i just feel so disconnected,
out of bounds, out of control
disjointed, lost. not sure what to say.
just a bitter little man, angry at the whole world
for everything he didn't do
for every chance he didnt take.
for every friend he let slip away.
for every memory forgotten
for every day that went past him
just a little old woman, busy in the chores of life.
contented, satisfied.
jams, packed. peaches, canned. cucumbers, pickled.
brownies rising in the oven,
decadent edges, dark crumbles of love
fresh sheets, of spring flowers and lime
beauty. beautiful.
just another lost soul, floating,
trying to become. to be
we fucked up big time,
trying to fit into society's pretty molds.
we filed our nails down, filled ourselves with tolulene and formaldehyde
of liquid gold and other stuff.
we sewed our lips together and plastered on a new smile
cakes with the greasy stains of crimson reds, fuschia fun, and cherry rum.
smiling, at the catalogues of menus we'd never taste
politely declining, in our rehearsed, mechanical nods.
our rebellions never made it past revolution
rallying in arms, bare, splotched in the stains of dha, tyrosine, or was it canthaxanthin?
we stood for a state of anarchism.
a state of failure and chaos,
that we would soon come to turn our backs on
as age caught up with time.
and our wick runs short.
We're young! We're supposed to drink too much, we're supposed to have bad attitudes and shag each others brains out. We had it all. We fucked up, bigger, and better than any generation that came before us! WE WERE SO BEAUTIFUL! We're screw ups. I'm a screw up. And I plan to be a screw up, until my late twenties, maybe even my early thirties.
but eventually we'll turn into the auto programmed bots of society, functions parts of clogs,
running the machines of life.
just remember that we honestly tried, we did
once when we were young.
but where and who are we now?
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