hypothermia in hell

Dear Whoever, Here's another letter that I'll never send. If you get this ever, I'll be at my most bitter end. The last time we spoke he spit only warm blades and open bombs. Now this ink is running through my veins, so shut the fuck up and try to understand these words no breath could ever hope to carry. He's my last big mistake. He is the new machine. And falling into the new machine seems to be my only way out. To my defeater: don't even bother to read this. I will fail you every single time. The sound of his voice sharpens my flaws into daggers. So let's toast this to my utter loss. The thought of forever disgusts me. Blankets of snow fall deep into failure. The sun is getting dull and I wake up cold and alone. So just give me an ending. Give me one more reason. My concern will not be confused with pity, because pity swiftly turns tolerance into acceptance. And we don't want that to happen.

no one ever fell in love with anyone because of empty pockets or red splotched eyes. drove around for hours tonight just to keep myself from feeling anchored. weighed down. to keep my mind off thinking about what kids like me deserve. desperation isnt a strong enough word (but it will have to do). nothing gets you ready to have every single word dissected and put under a microscope. i got ringing in my ears but none on my fingers. i got sunsets in the veins on my wrists. we’re not just falling in love anymore, we’re demanding it. im the latest bloomer. i can still see you standing on my front porch- slowed my own thoughts down to a single blade of grass. you couldnt catch my eye cause i was too busy rolling them. the buttons on one side of your coat that wouldnt snap on the other side. they were just for fashion not for function you told me. you were pretty for a boy. it made me laugh when i thought of it, im sorry i wasnt laughing at what you were saying. it makes me laugh still- when im walking around for hours at night. i'd love to swerve off and blame it on the fog, but i've been talking on these roads too much lately. they'd spill all my secrets. this city won’t let me go. my lips cracked and dried from the tears, i'll probably die a cliche. provocative. no one will ever sound as cool as you. we built cool. we made up style. we set the standard and they're all just trying to live up to it. if theres nobody who thinks like us anymore. untouchable is unlovable. you always have me humming in my head just out of key. i bought an alarm clock just so i could hit the snooze button. whats the point in getting out of bed anymore if you only get out to say you did. if you could love the biggest fraud or the best liar- then im your princess. i was made just for fashion not for function.

“the heart is deceitful above all other things"

their eyes are like pills. its funny. the blue ones take to you down. the brown ones pick you up. it doesn't even make a whole lot of sense looking back on it now. there are a couple of sets of eyes that are like bookmarks in life. they are there to mark the chapters. highlights so you pay attention to the changes. dogeared pages. the way he looked at me the first time- all the blood ran out of me. with the biggest eyes. that trusted and believed and dreamed and hoped and lived. so i blinked. i faked like i couldnt tell. i was always so goddamned scared to see my own flaws reflected on them. and i cant count the times i crushed them. and you realize that they will never look up at you the same.

i cant blame you for giving up on me.
join the club.

im guessing you are regretting this monster you created. he gave me a prescription and said "these will take take care of your shyness". no one really gets that part though. and who ever wanted you to come out of your shell anyhow. maybe im just pretty sure that i am a total bore. and there's nothing tragic at all, this is (i'm) completely ordinary. and that's whats so tragic. it's so fucking mundane. so while we're all wasting our eyesight on these screens late into the night dying to find some connection to someone- our backs breaking from being hunched over the keyboard- im sending mail addressed to myself just so i get some. im looking in the mirror and dissecting myself, just a smile connected to a pulse, barely connected at that. this wont make any sense when i read it in the morning.

the keyboard is unforgiving. it doesn't have much give. it hates the life inside your fingertips, it is jealous. if youre not careful youre gonna write yourself into a corner... her mom had a heart that served as a trophy case for award winning methheads. i couldnt blame her for how she turned out but id love to shoot the scientist that figured out the connection between geneology and behavioral patterns.. shes a prizefighter past her prime who just wont get out of the ring because its the only thing shes ever known. because you know how the odds stack up. because you know that its just a matter of being faster and hitting harder. you are a wordsmith- imagine the bedside manner of this spin doctor. "sometimes if things are going right you just need to lower your standards". its last call for a shot of conscience...

you remind me of the way things went before all of this.

i've already given up on myself twice; third time is the charm

heroes are there to be loved, but not to love you back. i'm not saying that heroes are a bad idea, even if they do disappoint you in the end. maybe that's what they're there for in the first place. as your heroes fall away and you're left standing, you realize the only person you have to live up to is yourself.

trade baby blues for wide-eyed browns

its strange the things that inform your writing versus the things that do not. its almost as though your words are shaped more by the things you do not say than the things that you do. there are many thoughts that i am scared to write down for many reasons. "the cancer of time is eating us away. our heroes have killed themselves, or are killing themselves. the hero then, is not time, but timelessness...." henry miller. i rock myself back and forth, this is not happening. people walk by. only eyes and smiles. "yeah im doing good". liar. it is a terrible fate to be given up on and only more terrible to give up on someone. the world is going by too fast out the window. it is impossible to even discern if there is a world out there because it is so dark and so fast. but i can only assume that the world did not disappear on me, though i couldnt blame it if it had. my head fades into the violet seat. i push my head to dream of other times but i cant fall asleep. it is pitch black outside but dawn in my insides. woke up again today. i believe i must have a disorder of some kind- or else why would i care about things so but act so carelessly. nevermind anything.

so much different than the way the others gave a windows down summer sun/nostalgia vibe- i guess maybe thats only my own head but this one feels moonlit. the way things are different as they pass in the dark. the way we can be ourselves after dark. love, the stagecoach always turns back into a pumpkin. sometimes love is about getting even. but sometimes it is about how you are the sun and nothing can shine quite as bright as you. nothing is the same at 6 am. somehow the things we say mean more in corners of dancefloors and we focus on love below the waist and outside of the head. "dont you want to get better"- i just dont want you to worry. "dont you want to get better" - tonight i do. the way they say "youre committing slow suicide" when someone lights up or cuts loose. but arent we all. everything we do just shortens our life, every breath is one less. but its what makes everything so treasured. in my head. it aint a funeral babe, i just want the headline to die. recovery is the new drug. in your average week my head lays on so many different pillows. this windowshopped life has me dreaming of a reset button. daylight is your enemy. im in love with lovers who dont love me except under the pale light of the moon. im sleeping in my driveway tonight dreaming of sleeping in snow or gravel or whatever is next to you.... thank god, disappointment has a short shelf life. i want to buy (uni)som(e) sleep but over the counter doesnt cut it whether it be hearts or capsules. wreck it all, one heart at a time. sleepovers are as good at they were 10 years ago. my dog is proof of puppy love. hollywood is a good story. but best friends are better.

sing into a polygraph. its not all its cracked up to be. talking isnt good for anything ever. lets practice our moves until the sun comes up.

so i've said a couple of new years resolutions

But none of them are true.
In the next year I just want to go back to outerspace.
And move back home.