October 31st
there can only be passion here.
what are you so upset about?
this is what you wanted, not me. I didn't ask for this at all.
we had a life. we had a school.
we had been scared, we had been tested, we had weathered.
a future on tissue paper,
you and I both know bibles burn the fastest.
I built a house to live in.
poured the concrete frame, picked out the furniture.
you nailed together walls, leaned planks and boards
picked out the necessary demolition equipment -
you built a frame to tear down.
there is no way you will ever be anywhere near
as sorry as I am

October 30th.
there will be no rage in this.
as you and I have proven, feelings are temporary.
love and loathing, useless and trite.

there can only be passion here. there can only be
determination;
there are no more get out of jail free cards.
there is no more "one last", there is no more "tomorrow".

half of me hopes, for the sake of my liver,
that you will keep your receiver silent,
do whats best for you. for me.
the rest is waiting listless, is searching endless
through the numbers on caller ID to prove that
I am not worthless. I am of value.
i was a mistake on the way to enlightenment. i was
a mistake on the way to happiness.
you were just a stepping stone i tripped over instead.

October 26th.
i thought about not writing it.
the combination of letters and words being yet another landmark
to glorify and accentuate a
gigantic mountain of bullshit you airbombed on my front lawn.
something else to cringe at, just like
every naive word I wrote under your delusion.
when we were happy?
what is that? was it worth that?
regardless, the words, the landmark, the glorification
once more. even in the avoidance of addressing it,
i have thrown it into the spotlight:
you said you were worried; I said
"I will forgive you."
you laughed and countered, "don't say that! that only makes it easier to ruin everything."
well you wanted it, you fucking WANTED IT,
and you had it til you lost it.
stupid boy. I can forgive your actus reus
but not your mens rea:
the intent.
your eyes were burning with the intent.
you're the one who fell out of love first.
this is YOUR FUCKING MESS.

October 24th.
reasons why today was awesome:
the blood brothers.
sillycute boy in wolfville.
new pack of smokes.
norwalk virus, hahaha

October 23rd.
i have never loved you more than in this moment where you hate me!
cant we just try?

October 22nd.
there is only so much hope that I can smother.
in the evening I am defeated, in the morning,
born anew.
as a puppeteer the joints of my fingers are on fire!
this is not my situation to manipulate! the mannequin is
lying useless on the stage!
am I a sore spot in your vision? are you
avoiding my gaze the way I avoid yours?
anxiously awaiting contact, anticipating disaster
a facade that breaks my arms to hold is
driving my nails into my scalp is
crumpling my body into this bed.
next time Im just gonna grab you and kiss you, kk?

October 21st.
i dreamt i had a big barrel hair curler.
the night before I saw your new love while I
wept in my sleep
she was an upgrade, but she was a work of fiction
baby, you're missing out

October 20th.
pretty girls on the rebound, we got game,
we make mission statements. we want to fight.
pouting lips, bright eyes,
an alcholic tolerance like a tropical storm.
pugnacious stride, calculated laugh,
infiltrating like an army;
lethal wit and alcohol: weapons of choice.
a smoke in one hand, your inhibitions in the other.
we play to win

October 17th.
smells like tenth grade!
can you forgive me for not forgiving you?
and no, not you, asshole, somebody else.
you get no apologies

October 16th.
yes well, you can go to hell

October 15th.
hamster is dyiinnggg for about the tenth time.
sort of hoping it will die soon,
a creature that small shouldn't have to suffer so much.
teeth nails ecstacy,
why would I fight to be in the car when all I ever get is the backseat!

October 10th.
Exerpts from a letter I am about to destroy.

"(it was october tenth, don't forget.)
oct. 11 2005.
i feel nothing?
ok me too.
you say you love me like you're lying.
i have yours if you have mine."

did you forget?

October 8th.
II.
I FUCKING HATE YOU.
im sick of being tortured with every fucking memory of you.
and i desire nothing better than
the optimum amount of cranial impact
as as fucking CAR CRASH
to wipe your fucking existence off my mental slate.
im sick of you, ok?
youre going to be my fucking epitaph

I.
all my organs hurt.
this vodka's making me skinny.
recovering, second chapter.
you already took my fucking school,
isnt that good enough?
now you want to take my fucking town?
hate what youre doing to

October 4th.
immersion
want to fall in; drown.
those eyes, would take them anywhere.
hands cupped to ears breath
thelackthelack

October 1st.
as a victim you are faceless,
i am unyielding.
words caught in eyes caught in motions,
breathing badly, wanting
searching for the reflection in your disposition.
aching, questioning the protocol
how to act:
pretty girls on the rebound