daily vitamins | tongue trips ||| || | |||||| |

potentially fatal.
why do these dangers come our way when we are at our weakest?
h.l. mencken said, 'yield to temptation. it may not pass your way again.'
or something to that effect.
are the repercussions worth it?
i hardly think so.
i had asked for transparency, honesty, sincerity, a genuine desire for friendship.
but it could simply be the neanderthal need for continuity that beats behind every man's sternum.

rv is extremely busy and hardly has time to spend thinking of me when those cells are better off solving some other work-related problem.
distractions then serve as a daily staple.
cos the day has to go on.
and on.
(i feel very titanic-ish here)
i cant help loving people i like.
we all want to be touched, hugged.
some kinda weird need to rub our oils off one another.
it melts my heart though.
when i look at stan's eyes and see that puppy need to have me.

"you know that elvis song? where he'd rather have the person in his life and be hurt all the time instead of having the person and losing the person?"

no.
but i get what you're trying to say.
and yes, while you're trying to explain yourself, go ahead and give me the ultimate killer.

"rarararararararararararararailoveyourarararararararararararara"

flatliner goes off.
you've seen me all of four times and spoken with me almost daily.
and you love me?
i'm a temperamental, cowardly, insecure, manipulative, cunning woman and you dont even know that yet.
oh, and i have rv in my life.

oh, how i repeat that like a rap to the beat of my cautious heart.

"i know i cant have you as my girlfriend. but i want you in my life. i care for you, dl. i dont know why i feel this way for you."

oh scho schweet.
oh scho scho schweet.
but i preferred the "smooth skin" comment.

but i had such a great time.
we drank on empty stomachs, almost fell with the table on top of us, spilled drinks all over us while escaping the heavy toppling table, danced, laid down for a while, drank again, danced, danced, danced.
such honesty i cannot ignore.
such raw honesty i dance to in all my tribal nakedness like a drunken witch around a fire.
these people, have a grounded honesty to them that is absent from my so-called intellectually abled so-called friends.
the freedom (and cigarette smoke) bloats my lungs and my soul floats.
all garb is shed.
while my so-called intellectually abled so-called friends keep their suits on and shoot bullets into your heart from the pockets of their suits.

you, 'tongue trips' is merely a double entendre.

do not light the flame of your imagination the way i pour fuel on mine and torch my heart.

today

how does it go?
when i blink my eyes open to the roaring buses
and the children's annoying, thoughtless screams below?
how can it be?
that stuffing the musky pillow over my reddened ears
i can still hear them yelping me awake merrily?
how goes it?
when my penthouse lids tear awake to the creeping dawn
and i can only hear the anger against my ribcage beat?
how can it be?
that unfounded pain and excruciating sadness sets in
and asphyxiates the possibility of life in me?
how does it go?
that standing limp and nude in the shower they run freely
whilst naked and exposed out there not a tear i dare show?
how can it be?
picking up the hairdryer against my soaked dropping hair
i would bite my lips and question why they think i'm pretty?
how goes it?
stroking the coaldust through my mellow lashes and drawing through
the heart morphinates over like frozen meat?
how can it be?
the strides are long and confident on the plane
and the eyes show joy and the smiles come naturally?
how does it go?
in interstices of absorption in labour i jolt awake
and scream in white silence while the seconds ebb and flow?
how can it be?
as the feet sally me on and the day grows weary
that i feel myself sinking backwards and gurgling desperately?
how goes it?
the hold stands strong in fear of kin ridicule
but the bleeding soul gives way when alone again in the bed?

sleep, i have not
washed my hair of it, i have
brushed my teeth and tongue of it, i have
drowned my body in soap, i have

i said no
no
no
i didnt come out for this
no
what
no
no

jerk

disgusting jerk

jerk

i have crust

a resonant hollow
a familiar emptiness
ashes to the wind
aimless
f
a
ll
i g
n

was this not what i wanted?
to be loved this way?
to be cherished, to be wanted, to be madly desired, to be imagined as one's pillar for life?
i'm a coward, no more than.
do we romanticise love?
do we movienise love?
where do these fucking stupid western love ideology shit in movies come from?
plucked from the pains of the winds passing by?
nothing's original anymore is it?
everything's taken, remodelled, posed as new and m i n e.
is love not private like the sick in our guts?
then why is it that when i finally get to the zenith of someone's feelings for me, that i get the urge to buck, swivel the knee and run the other way?
when this is what i want.

screw htmlaboosh.