b thang.
operator
[newest]
recent morsels
- dreams
- ALSO ACTUALLY
- Dear C.,
- loose/
- thankyou ian.
- home.
- i dont want anybody to read this entry please.
- last night
- crossed and kept me safe.
- company calls epilogue.
my other links.
old morsels.
- September 2004
- October 2004
- November 2004
- December 2004
- January 2005
- February 2005
- March 2005
- April 2005
- May 2005
- June 2005
- July 2005
- August 2005
- September 2005
- October 2005
- November 2005
- December 2005
- January 2006
- February 2006
- March 2006
- April 2006
- May 2006
- June 2006
- July 2006
- September 2006
- October 2006
- November 2006
- December 2006
- February 2007
- March 2007
- April 2007
- June 2007
- July 2007
- August 2007
- January 2008
- March 2008
- April 2008
- June 2008
- July 2008
- October 2008
- November 2008
- December 2008
- February 2009
- March 2009
- June 2009
- October 2009
- December 2009
- May 2010
- January 2011
- September 2011
- September 2012
- April 2013
- March 2015
- March 2016
28.6.07
dont you realise, dreams mean nothing
i am fond of making sweeping, groundbreakingly terse statements.
i like to sum up events, moods, relationships, bundle them into a nutshell and roast them for sale on the bank of a cold grey slice of river.
i always catch myself saying:
"you always"
"it always seems"
"everytime i"
or things like:
"i have never met anybody like you"
"i have never been in a relationship like this"
and especially the word "literally" i used this word every fucking day. literally, i am not joking fucking, what, do i read everything in a book. is everything a newspaper story, am i a journalist to my own life? why is everything so comfortable? so boring? where have i gone, where did i come from? what happened to me to make me like this? the sum total of about 3 actual things that have affected my life? the countless more fleeting inward struggles i inflict upon myself, for no reason, with no gain, with no cause?
sometimes, i want to laugh at you and your stupid massive problems.
sometimes, i just think your huge, heart-shatteringly life is fucking pathetic.
sometimes i want to shout at you, and scream that all these big fucking fanfare events that happened to you mean fuck all, they mean absolutely fuck ALL if you don't have any inner showers of sparks of disease and melancholy and suicide that you want to acknowledge.
sometimes i want to tell you that your dreams mean nothing, and laugh in your face like a rusty boat close to shore, spit on your trainers and say that no one cares what youre hiding because they never want to find it and they never want to know you because you, you simply don't want to know them.
and i will leave you on the concrete boardwalk, they grey blue sky bringing a bruise to the ice blue water, sprays leaping up and joining the blue air, crying with red around your eyes in rings and i will stare at you, staring at the floor, distance between us in the deafening wind and wonder, and wonder why i ever found mystery in someone like you.
whispered by killa b at 8:50 PM |
0 answerphone msgs
commentz