This is now.

I can't even muster up the tears anymore, God dammit. It's so typical, so expected, that it just becomes like breathing...this accepting of the terms and conditions. I knew it was coming, I could feel it in my blood, I looked at you and understood what you were. It was so subconscious and base that I didn't realize the true nature of the beast, probably didn't care to, but none the less, it surfaced from inside to grab air and make itself known. It used to hurt so bad...making me lose the air in my body, flushing my face, metally staggering my abilities until I was giddy and unbalanced. Used to. Now I just blink, exhale, make another tick mark, and walk away.

Vanity won, and was wrong.

Again.

I wrote this when I was around 15 or 16...all I have to say is good luck to all of y'all.

Wishful Thinking

Your face,
an open book.
Your lines,
Like lookin' through
a window into your mind.
Your promise more fragile
than a young girl's heart.
Your lies,
as predictable as an over-watched movie.
Your mouth -
Fresh
yet surprisingly sweet...
when it suits you.
A disturbed purpose
and a perfectly
warped meaning,
but a completely
Empty
Intention.


That was then. I'll tell ya about now when I have a coupla hours under my sleep belt.

Giving up all expectations...

As soon as I start typing, she will come. Why wait?

As soon as I make myself unavailable, they will beg.

What's taking so long?