Friday, 12 March 2010.

and I just keep on ever-spamming
because I can't get over the guilt
that I bring upon myself
like this.

Also reality checks are painful.
the sort that you look at
and you think
so this is intelligence and articulacy and everything I want to be
and can never show myself to be
and so much better and above what I am
who I am
and this
is not me.
And then you feel this sea of envy
and an undertow of hatred
for yourself.

Or maybe that's just me.
But beauty in and of itself, that flashes across the surface of life and vanishes, is beyond all that can be described as beautiful.

Also

when I crumple a little like paper in someone's fist
because I'd love to confide in you
and let you confide in me
but I as myself
am this undeserving of trust.

also you and the cruel words you use
that tighten the vise
encircling my throat
when I'd like to cry and take it back
I'm sorry to you too.

and you
because if you'd been here for me
I might have stayed strong
but how can I blame you?
I might as well curse the sun
for rising in the east and not the south







let me shatter from inside to out
and rebuild myself
in the shower of sparks burning
deeper than your words
and sharper than your penknife
because the privilege and the honour
of breaking me, fracturing crumbling destroying me
is mine and not yours or anyone else's.

{ 10:40 pm }