justxflesh
tilted intentions [innocents]
I'm stealing your words again. Each and every one. I've thought a lot about what you said, and more importantly about the things you coudn't say. All I know is that this bandage is falling out of place. My skin is wrinkled and wet showing my failure at resisting the urge to go lie down in the rain and get struck by lightning. Can you remember the sound of laughter dancing between the raindrops or remeber how it felt to sit in an empty parking lot smoking cigarettes blasting the heat and listening to all the songs you secretly loved.
It was the rough red fabric beneath our fingers and the stattic on the radio. It was being warm with the windows rolled down just enough to breathe. Back seats became so familiar and every streetlight had a name. The shadows were talking then, but no one was listening. The schoolyard is empty, the hopscotch squares and swingsets bloody with rust.
The sunset was an un-happy yellow the day the last dreams died. The bodies still in their beds. The echo of the last goodbye echoing off the red-brick walls. I sat on the steps and closed my eyes.
It rained today, the chocolate was bad, and the dining room was cold. We sat smoking among the empty white tables watching the clouds. I saw thunder in your eyes. Another denial hides your true feelings behind the fog cerrpy over this town and it's cobblestone streets. The cafe` is closed, we're intruding on something silent.
I pretend that it wasn't more simple back then, when I know it was. I tell myself the price of cigarettes will go down, when I know it won't. I walk by places with to many memories attached for me to even spare a passing glance.
It's not the words that will kill you.
It's the silence.
Dead memories choking on a year missed, the seconds skipped on the clock. Somehow we ended up here and I don't know how to get back. I hear [you cant. you cant.]
I escape into the seatbelt, the music thats far to loud for 2am, the sound of squealing tires. I let myself fade away into the smoke drifitng out the car window. I close my eyes untill everyone's asleap then stare at the world with no one watching.
We take the boat out to the dock and lie there talking about all the things we'll never do, but say we will. Some things never change. I tell her I find it funny that dreams become nothing more then abandoned memories but nether of us laugh. She knows to much, she knows me to well and so instead we continue to play the game of "remember when". We sorround ourselves in cigarettes and ashes.
The bottles aren't far behind and we just want to believe for a second. The taste is bittersweet. We know that some things change. Tiptoes on the line between.
I lie and say that I'm tired, leaving my shoes by the door.
I walk between the raindrops in the fog.
I follow the chalk lines and the broken glass.
its not like it used to be
It was the rough red fabric beneath our fingers and the stattic on the radio. It was being warm with the windows rolled down just enough to breathe. Back seats became so familiar and every streetlight had a name. The shadows were talking then, but no one was listening. The schoolyard is empty, the hopscotch squares and swingsets bloody with rust.
The sunset was an un-happy yellow the day the last dreams died. The bodies still in their beds. The echo of the last goodbye echoing off the red-brick walls. I sat on the steps and closed my eyes.
It rained today, the chocolate was bad, and the dining room was cold. We sat smoking among the empty white tables watching the clouds. I saw thunder in your eyes. Another denial hides your true feelings behind the fog cerrpy over this town and it's cobblestone streets. The cafe` is closed, we're intruding on something silent.
I pretend that it wasn't more simple back then, when I know it was. I tell myself the price of cigarettes will go down, when I know it won't. I walk by places with to many memories attached for me to even spare a passing glance.
It's the silence.
Dead memories choking on a year missed, the seconds skipped on the clock. Somehow we ended up here and I don't know how to get back. I hear [you cant. you cant.]
I escape into the seatbelt, the music thats far to loud for 2am, the sound of squealing tires. I let myself fade away into the smoke drifitng out the car window. I close my eyes untill everyone's asleap then stare at the world with no one watching.
We take the boat out to the dock and lie there talking about all the things we'll never do, but say we will. Some things never change. I tell her I find it funny that dreams become nothing more then abandoned memories but nether of us laugh. She knows to much, she knows me to well and so instead we continue to play the game of "remember when". We sorround ourselves in cigarettes and ashes.
The bottles aren't far behind and we just want to believe for a second. The taste is bittersweet. We know that some things change. Tiptoes on the line between.
I walk between the raindrops in the fog.
I follow the chalk lines and the broken glass.
its not like it used to be
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interrogation photos [click me]
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silence as the phone call ends [coughing up smoke and vomit]
I don't want to loose this.
I don't want to loose this.
I don't want to loose this.
I don't want to loose this.
and it's fucking killing me
Fading so fast between my fingers, out with each breath as I hit my cigarette till the filer burns down deep, turning my lungs into glowing red sparks. I digest the smoke - almost - untill the bile rises as smoke and vomit and I cough it up again on the kitchen floor, out the back door, into the gutter.
We have so much more in common than I would ever like to know - and it scares me to think we're all but strangers. I forgot, you don't exist. Goodbye. Hang up the phone on the imaginary voice, throw the only real connection I have to an otherwise fucked up world out the window and down the dish disposal for a moment of make believe peace. It's rising up and out of my chest, cracking the ribcage against the steel bdframe. The springs in the matress are comming loose to match this mind of mine, the wheel is off the track again.
I can hear the insanity rising though the laughter and giggles. Parking lot parties at 2am on a dead end street. A high heel shoe lies discarded and forgotten. Condom wrappers and antiseptic.
scub with the steel wool till the skin is comming off in rotted chunks
daddy dont
but daddy does and does
s.t.o.p.
again and again
The boy with the lipstick and the fake eyelashes. The dimond teardrops beneath the tires as you squal out on what was supposed to be something _______
It's only when the windshield wiper fluid hits my veins full force I can breath again for a moment - then die again just like before. With no one there to watch. The Good Child is on TV, in the bedroom doing homework. 3.8gpa's nevergoodenough.
Cover this one way mirror in blood and wipe it down with wanted ads and obituaries. I don't see my name, though the image of a dead body stares back at me from beneath the broken glass. Cut fingers wrapped in gause soderd to flesh. Cut away the never endings and replace it with dental hygene.
Screams.
Moans.
Whimpers and Whispers.
Long sleeved t-shirts.
Tube socks and dirty bedsheets.
Hello
Who the fuck are you.
I get stopped at taco bell by a stranger I once knew, or so he says, dropping names of an older brother I once nearly fucked behind the steak and shake. A semblence of mouth to mouth resessitation coated in saliva and spermicide. Trashbag bitch with a stomach of steel. Smoke a cigarette and swallow hard. He wants drugs and his friend in the pink shirt and long hair smiles from the backseat. So I walk away before old habbits refuse to die hard and I find myself somewhere I know I shouldn't be.
On my knees again praying to a God that doesn't exist, lips moving in blasphemous prayer knowing these words mean nothing. Let me wipe my mouth on bruised fingers, wash it down with a 3 dollar water from 711 and smile as I hit the pipe again.
Nothing but lies from false prophets.
You've already fucked me on the inside.
The bodybad blow up doll ready and [un]willing
I'm drowning on tears and snot.
Choke. Gag. Reflex. Smile.
I can't even remember what I was trying to forget. Is it better that way or am I just telling myself that so I don't have to face the facts of someone elses dirty laundry. I've soiled myself enough for tonight.
Thank you and please. Let's forget the pleasantries as you fuck me into bed, turn out the light, tell me a bedtime story and turn your back again. Whore. Slut. Cut.
Throw out the safty pins and turn off the fucking safty. Your scars are nothing more than a catscratch and I'm in surgery again trying to fix what's broken but I can't dig deep enough to wash it out. Bleach and amonia to disinfect my eyes. My legs are covered in the memories I tried to throw away, tattoos of sins once commited in waiting rooms and sanctuaries before the curcified christ.
The photos lie undeveloped of the latest crime scence, the disposable camera the only witness, and for once the pictures don't say a thousand words, they're too busy hding beneath the dresser drawer. Thank the lord for small mercies. I don't believe in imaginary things with wings.
I need to get this out before something vile happens. Irony never far behind. I think these thoughts are going to make me sick, leaving me emotionally dead inside and out. I'm throwing up again and no one knows.
I step into the shower with cold toes against the ceramic tile. The steam enters my lungs replacing all the pullution consumed. I am asphyxiated on soap bubbles and shower gel. Herbal remedies for all the things that can. not. be. fixed. Though perhaps better for now. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. Shut the door, turn off all the lights. Let the water run down the drain - face down and fetal. Watch the water turn to gray.
Sometimes a lie is all I have to keep me hanging on. Though I know if I don't face the truth it will kill me. Not now. Not now. Eyes are watching from around the corner - behind the door. Shadows on the walls make me shiver as alone becomes a question. Wrinkled skin. The water turns cold but the towels are fresh. Sometimes I fantasize that I might slip and fall. Accidents happen.
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guestbook
Mon.02.09.09 5:58pm
Re: public
Unfortunately I never got the speed memo.. of your updates.
Its 2 bad too. because im sure now.. 4 years later its already 2 late.
Sat.12.16.06 8:46pm
Re: public
you promised I wouldn't have to wear the other heart with your name on it. but why do I feel like I must?
justxflesh
About Me
inhalexhale
Real Name:nostalgia
Birthday:
May 12 1987
Chat Name:
justxflesh
Disposition:
in question
Location:
lost in <br> transmission
Sex?:
fag
Folders
| public |
public |
| inhale |
public |
| exhale |
public |
| whitexblue |
public |
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| Joined | May.01.05 |
| Online | Dec.31.69 |
...Where have you gone?