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AK47

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[07 Nov 2006|04:35pm]
my heart's tied to a noose around my neck, but it doesn't even swing
it just keeps getting heavier and heavier
til my feet drag cause i don't have the energy to move forward on my own
or the energy to smile, and i think i've forgotten how
my eyes only know to drift downwards
my insides follow and creep into the corner and huddle
and cry

and you don't understand
2 : comment

[29 Jul 2006|11:57pm]
i've been sad for a really long time.
years.
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[18 Jul 2006|04:17pm]
i've ceased to wander or wonder, found a position to stay crouched in, huddled in the necessary and reliable pocket between a lover's arm and torso. i'm not safe here, but i am safer. i am not dreaming in arsenic and cyanide when he wakes me, i am not singing wings and guns drawn. i am lucid and intangible and unstable, off medication and i don't answer questions i don't recognize. the moat just beyond my skull, cradling my brain, is filled with a sloppy, dirty flotsam and jetsam of things i should have said and things i know i am not above resorting to. barefoot, bed-less, un-showered, chapped.

i'm depressed still, aching to function. i'm manic with eyes wide and i'm lost with an only consolance the suffocatin of bed sheets and humid air.

i sing in the shower; i can't keep wanting to breathe, and dreaming to drown / i can't want to hold on and still let myself down.
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[11 Jul 2006|06:23pm]
presently, i am dizzy and i am hungry and i am beyond self-ridicule. there was a time where i would pry myself apart in front of a mirror, gazing down at my thighs and declaring them indecently large, or up at my frizzy flyaways and guage myself unattractive. after a 300 calorie (or less) day, i would step gingerly onto the scale, feeling light but unsatisfied, and my eyes would visit the numbers but they would make little impact on how much i truly hated myself. now i want only to find serenity in something, and lately that something has become basic survival. if i survive today, that is good enough. if i survive it with fat thighs and tangled hair, at least i have survived.
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[09 Jul 2006|11:01pm]
i have stories i wish i could tell, but memories that only know nonexistance, banned from retraction by hard alcohol, thick smoke, and fast tears. i have anecdotes that will never leave the cage created by my teeth, the paragraphs-that-could-have-been hugging my tonsils, vibrating with lyrics i wish audiences would want to hear.

i remain unchanged to me; unscathed, but i feel scars left generously by years, by my own hands, by the unforgiving guns of circumstance. i wonder if they are visible, if anybody sees me as i am: a bug, flailing on it's back, unable to right itself, or as i am capable of: a being known for it's gift of flight.

i am gifted and i am burdened, & i want to capture every moment of both that i have ever felt... in print, in a book, & i have wanted and retracted this for years. everything i have ever wanted to be has been namely downcasted by doubt: i'm a poet, not a rapper. i'm a spirit, not a dancer. a storyteller, not an author. because i'm not sure how to believe in myself, & i'm not sure how to craft myself into something "successful."

to be continued.
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