Home is where the fight is.

Two doors...slammed.
The clock, shattered in pieces on the ground.
My breath, visable in the cold.
Work and work and work and work.
Tick tock tick tock.
Come home
Scream
Scream
Hide
Scream
Broken window
Let's the cold
Air in
And lingers on my skin
Like lingerie.

As if
I would
Look good in it.
Scream
Break doors
Break fist
with the mirror.
I sit
Alone
here
Writing

Part II, The cool side of the pillow.

On another completely opposing but somehow in my mind related subject.. how about we talk about friends?
Recently three unique individuals have entered my life, one of which is vacant, the other whom is there, but slightly occupied, and the other whom is THERE, but... their availability conflicts with my own, which results in heartbreaking phone tag.

What can I say? I'm a social butterfly, but god damn it, work is clipping my wings!
I haven't been very poetic lately, I haven't been writing any of my fictions... It's quite frustrating. With my new scenery at my job, stress from the transition, stress from my social life, and the impending pressure of my studies... I am an utter basket case... Half full of apples.
I don't know what that means, but it sounded right to me so I'm sticking to it.

So what can I say? I still don't sleep at night. I still don't drink coffee or smoke. I still act like I am a child, yet somehow, the way I carry myself is completely different than two years ago, even six months ago. Somehow with my new occupational situations, I've also become a little less timid, not that I ever was timid. I just feel more confident in my words, I suppose.

I need to get on the stage, I need to start writing my erotic novels. I NEED to fill this writing void I am allowing myself to create.. I need to just create!

There are plenty of muses around me, and I'm full of ideas. It's just, I don't seem to realize how to seize such moments correctly, or I simply don't have time to.

Erato is sitting in front of me, bare and spread eagle, and here I am saying "Hey, wanna play scrabble?".. or it's the "Hey, can you come back AFTER I finish my shift, because I cannot stop what I am doing to write right now..."
And of course, by the time I am off, she is gone, along with her amazing body and coy whispers. Shame.

Some things you need to know:

1.) Cola gummies are god's way of saying "I love you", try them!

2.) My hands are absolutely freezing and halfway through this entry I contemplated wearing knit gloves.

3.) I need friends that will work with my time schedule, be willing to dedicate themselves to me before anyone else, be available on my beckon, and not want a committed/physical relationship with me in any capacity other than friendship.... Now taking applications!!!!!! =D (I kid)

I miss my friends

~Loving you is like loving the dead... Like fucking the dead.~

-V

This is not over.

Sometimes feeling pretty means noticing how ugly you are in the first place.
And that somehow, when you do your hair a certain way, or add just the correct amount of blush to your cheeks, that you become gorgeous.

What happened to me?

I do not know, But am I okay with that. I don't know the answer to my own questions, and as I sit here and write this, I wonder what will happen next. Will I feel the comfort and support offered to me, or will I do what I always do?
Close down.
Slow down.
Break down.

Sometimes when you're driving, you're breaks don't work and you hit a brick wall..


I wasn't born with breaks.
But I'm still running into walls.


-V

Do not drink the water

I found sanctuary beneath the sheets of a soiled bed, damp with sweat and shame.
Tied my broken hands together with ribbon, and begged myself to puppet my fingers into something less than atrophy to spindel such words on a coarse piece of lust.
As I pick up the shatter remains of what I once considered my body,
climbing out of your bed, tears smearing my false rosed cheeks..
Fake signs of good health.
Scrambling to gather my things, wishing home wasn't a car ride away.
Wondering if I called someone, who would listen?
Who would I possibly tell?
Instead I wipe my eyes, smile at myself in the mirror.
Straighten my hair.
And walk out your door.

But inside, I die.

Do you watch?

In most recent years I have discovered new things about myself I would never have guessed would be in me. I suppose this is self sadomasochism, considering I enjoy other people inflicting pain upon me, without their enjoyment of doing it. Simply, it's their job. Tattoo artists, nurses, surgeons, doctors.. Cutting, scraping, needles piercing skin.. For blood, biopsies... And I have to watch. I have to see the needle enter my flesh and extract the fluid which gives me life. This morbid necessity is more than a simple fascination, it's a desire.. If you blindfolded me while taking my blood I would go mad, and most likely turn to some sort of animistic characteristics like screaming and attacking my would be attacker. Perhaps this is just being over thought, or merely all this time I have over looked this strange obsession I have... I really do not know. So my question today is... Do you watch, too? Do you have to see it as well?

Oddest way to "christen" a new blog, I suppose, but my mood is set to this tone, and I figured why not share :)


On a less mutilated note, Let's talk about love.

Love is by far one of the greatest emotions ever invented by the human mind. Most find that they cannot control it... some even claim it doesn't exist.

What drives human beings to connect to other's is beyond me, But I feel love everyday and I commit myself to it. Sometimes I do not understand my own logic in these situations, by my feelings get the better of me and I find myself smitten with people and ideas quickly, forming amazing relationships left and right.
Love can mean many things... It can be between friends, "lovers", family... Love can be between you and an item you are happy with (I.E. "Oh my god, Sarah, I LOVE my new purse!"), love can be misused, mislabelled, mishandled, and misunderstood. But most of all, love can somehow, through all of it's mysterious forms, conquer so many things, some would even say it *all*. Everyday I witness countless people fall in love for all the wrong reasons, and I tip my hat to them and blow the kiss of luck in there direction, hoping somehow that things will work for them. Other times I find myself jealous of the amount of love people have for one and other and wonder what it is like to feel such an emotion that strongly being emitted from another person. Then, other times I wonder how people could not feel at least the little bit of the ocean of love around them. Question their ability to be so blind, and numb to these emotions. Other times I want to smack people across the head to knock the fear of love out of there head.

Why play the game if you know who wins? Why take the leap if your so close to the ground, you won't even notice the impact?

I guess I'll never be content with the unanswered questions I am forced to hold onto for the rest of my life.

Maybe I've found love, because what I feel consumes me like love.. And as I drown in it, the more I believe.


-V