My photo
I want nothing more than to be that sexy, moody, artistic waif, lounging in a coffeeshop writing poetry, existing off of black coffee and cigarettes.


Thursday, May 20, 2010

i feel like something's missing at the moment.
a lack of colour.
i feel like i'm still in dream world,
from sleeping.

i dreamt about S.
that's the second time this week.
I can't remember back farther,
of course.

they're such inconsequential dreams.
but i love dreaming about him.

haven't eaten.
i at the salad earlier,
but i haven't eaten since i woke up.
it's 937 and i havent eaten.

i'm enjoying the feeling of the gnawing at fat going on in my stomach.
tomorrow the scale will kiss my feet,
and the fat will fucking mourn my company.

I can't stop thinking about otherC lately.
i just keep coming up with random feelings of pain
and then they dissipate,
and it's all okay for awhile.

but it doesn't help when i open my journal
and it opens to a page i had completely forgotten about.

it opens to a page of bald and blatant description
I wrote that way on purpose,
so i would remember every fact and feeling,
unbiased and as true as possible.

I cried.
I read the page and remembered the experience i had forgotten
the feelings i had forgettin i'd had.
and I cried.

That was not a good experience.

I can only hope that when it happens again,
with S this time,
it won't be so bad.

i don't think it will be.
S is different.
he's caring,
he likes me so much.

his eyes can't lie to me.

and neither can his kiss.