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[May 25 2009 / 2:11pm] |
Your hair still crosses the back of my head sometimes
I never let it drown me the way we know it could
I've got a fear I'll talk to you now the way you never should.
No, I still can not stay concentrated, still can’t conduct a rhyme.
Remember that your side that is bigger than the other
Is the same as mine, and I think of it when I use a pen
Writing a professional plea, sometimes a sentence comes out about how you were back then
Seventeen weeks past and I was an unfamiliar figure to your brother
It’s a heart flame, she knows,
Caught a bad habit, learned from the hurt I gave to you.
You wouldn’t try the cross I slipped on your wrist; these days, now would you?
In love now but my vision still waits for the cracks I made to show.
If time could heal my shit, I would be bigger and better
Than your weight could ever have accomplished
But I am not; I am looking smaller than before, looking famished
And isn’t this the in thing, to never get better, to remember your name to the very letter.
No here’s something new for the masses
One person who hurts enough to feel entitled
Is it so impossible for you to think we may have settled?
But if he thinks I can’t swim through now, his perfect eyes have lost their glasses.
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| _____ |
[May 10 2009 / 1:45pm] |
The men to whom I still suffer are moving in my legs
And those men who do not crush me,
Warn me,
‘What if this left you?’
But a joke it feels like because this white stony ground
Or the milky music here,
Doesn’t look like it might leave
To keep me from leaving, touch my face when I sing
And take my hand in a gentle way
You are my best friend so please don’t ever make me suffer.
Maybe I have nothing left but an itch on your shoulder.
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| good god |
[Apr 28 2009 / 3:45pm] |
There is this intimacy that, over the past, how ever long it’s been, I have only been able to find in myself. And so with that, I take no shame in using my self as a canvas. But I do long to show many things that are extremely personal and uncomfortable to act out or say or do after the fact. I have love for these moments; it is apart of whom I am inside that I like. I stand by self sometimes to watch and it’s never old to see the eyes, the backs, the fingers. On a level headed plane, I am frustrated. The feeling is more that I am stuck than uninspired, stuck in something. Sometimes if I let go, I know I will hit something eventually but it’s just that when I do so and I hit to most divine thing, I look at the clock and it is many hours later than when I was released. I would like for the criticism or the trivializing to give me strength to drive harder, but I am forever the one who is weak. I could leave, I could stop, that’s how much it can hurt sometimes, make me want to sever the only real link I have to my mind.
________________________________________________________
Still am I when I can see your words leave your mouth.
The diamonds of water that leave me,
Are inexpensive at best.
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[Feb 09 2009 / 4:18pm] |
For most of this decade I've been sweating under lights
But I've tried
I've tried again,
And another time
And now I've let my audience simply go.
You do something about your self, and the way you are, and you get nothing. You end up making a meal of no more.
The past 8 months have been really ridiculous and I look back and can't believe it really. I threw my self away. I threw my self away because I wanted the thrill of heart break I guess, but it wasn’t thrilling or exciting. It just fucked with my body and my common sense.
-Courtney
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[Jan 29 2009 / 3:43pm] |
I lived the first day of the New Year performing in front on audience I would regret.
I lost my soul in your exhausting river.
I have no been good lately. The shallowness of the average person has been thrown in my face.
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seewhyduh's journal
