I’m so angry all of the time now ( what does that look like, explain) Note to Self
I don’t care about anything anymore ( keep it creative but make it plain) Note to Self
I’ve fucked up over and over ( type out something that’s often repetitious) Note to Self
I can wallow in my own madness (Equate it to some other great writer’s predilections) Note to Self
I can drink all of this bullshit away ( talk about how alcoholism is a disease-
then whine to whomever is reading and force them to feel sorry for you, sweetie)
Self: Okay I see, Okay I see, Okay, Okay… I see…
My anger is sharp talons ripping my own fragile heart into shreds
The hope that I was dreaming of wears a plastic unicorn’s head
The sun comes up and down it goes with nothing new under its shine
Aren’t my black widow spider webs just like any other ties that bind?
Jack, Virginia, Edgar & Hunter all know the easy map outta THESE BLUES
Death is the number of bottle bottoms toward heaven it takes to forget you
Intangible good is fickly fleeting since without horror it has no meaning
But across the night sky you watch the bats black curtain of dark convening
I can pretend I can pretend I can pretend I can
that I’m the only girl for whom reciprocity has
never thrown it’s hat into the ring…
I never wanted to be remembered as just a fling….
Ain’t no thing that I’m hurting….
But I can’t pretend I can’t pretend I can’t pretend I can’t
THAT I WAS NOTHING TO YOU. Somehow, still, I ain’t.