I’m not editing because I’m too tired

June 4, 2010

Everything around me is singing
with that summertime burning
the cry of heat, happiness and happenings
but nothing good is ever happening
i am like a wax candle kept on a windowsill
perfuming a room with an unknown smell
find me
the odor wafting over beds and nightstands
lingering like a one night stand
beckoning like the night prior
i need this
come and get it
and summer has melted me
but if we move away from the heat
i will revert back to my solid form
and sit silent, odorless
summer is what makes me a mess
i am missing out on plans
not like invitations without RSVP
like hours scheduled for me
make my life worthwhile
i keep praying
and praying and speaking
meaning i say i believe you
but it’s getting harder
every pitfall is a blessing
but for once could you send me something not in disguise
because i have enough fake
it oozes from everyone’s pores
and i just need something real
good born of good
like god born of man
you don’t have to take souls back
just show me something i can hold onto
something pure and good
i’m sure we’re cursed
nearly positive
because three letters confirm it
bpd.
tangibility has always been a big deal with me
i need to touch and feel
touching and feeling is reserved for this keyboard
and the pain i feel everywhere
the broken down ache
like a new car that won’t start
or is undriveable
needing more
just like me
but it seems impossible
so i act out and commit crimes
because it seems impossible
and i need to teach myself to believe
that everything is possible
but if there’s a road that isn’t gravel
or a detour past the construction
could you post some signs??
poured out
poored out
whored out
to corporations
smiling and nodding
talking with poise.

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