I could care less

My fingers pull up sinews of roots that never started anything. It's my jungle of weeds, who are stronger than flowers and more desperate than grass. They stretch across my nerves like chloroplast veins. I can see right through them--they aren't parasites but simple, perfect forests that hold me to my word. They keep me warm, and they keep me close. Finally, I am deaf, and I am mute. Finally, I can see.

So I brought the band back to life, and we're shooting for Broadway this time, but they must learn to loosen up their own throats.
What good are their notes to me when my ears have been filled with leaves? I could care less.

I will leave, and it's for the best; he wouldn't know me silent.
I must thank God for his memory.
In his bloodstream roars a symphony.
In case he won't remember me, I've sent pictures of my larynx.

Moving

Is it out of sight, out of mind, or absence makes the heart grow fonder? I guess we'll have to find out. I can't wait for the relief of apathy, to no longer care which stupid girl you see or how much you marginalize me. It's cool, it's cool, we can still be friends.

Sometimes it feels really good to completely curtail my responsibilities, like ignoring my jury duty summons or not returning the school book I rented from the Ohlone College bookstore.
But then there's times where it feels really bad, like when I spend all my money or drink too much or never do my laundry or clean my room.

Nobody knows me like her
Nobody knows her like me
We're all we've got
And we don't want to be alone

Just is my favorite word
The most useful adverb, the most righteous adjective.
With it, everything makes sense.

I'm too drunk to sleep. That's the honest to God truth of things. You crawl to me on bloodied knee as if I could redeem you. You curse everything I am and stand for, yet you continue to torture me. You hate the smoke in my lungs, the beer on my tongue. At what point does it stop being my fault?

You have given me nothing,
but you have shown me everything.
I'll be hungover for Thanksgiving.
It's a wonderful life.

i imagine that you're with someone else
crystal is muddy, those kissing cherries
whatever it was shakespeare said about her


i am this terrible thing
it's this terrible truth
i look like hell until i put makeup on
everything hurts until i put you in my arm

weigh me down, hold me down to earth
make me light, take me away from this place.

I want to write so many things, but I know they'll just hurt somebody.

i'm angry that i feel alone. i can't sleep and fuck everyone for telling me that i should. they don't know that i shake at night, like how old people do, in a way where i feel like i'm sick. my skin is practically paper and my hands shake like bass lines beating against car trunks.
i'm angry that i have to wake up every morning, and fuck anyone who tries to make me.

i literally have to do everything in my power to not remind you that i'm still alive.
from this point on, you will never know, and you will never try again. they all say it's good, and i hope they all choke.

sometimes i think i'd rather be a business interest
a party machine
part of a county courthouse ring

why can't god just simply spare me
or at the very least, accept my apology?

how to love a robot that thinks that its a man

"Don't try.
This could never be worth it."
I said this to myself today, and this time it almost helped.
Maybe it's true that this is all because of me.
When things fall apart, it seems that I'm always guilty.

Well, most people know how I am by now, and if they don't, they'll find out soon enough.
Then they can choose to try and resist me or to hold on for dear life.
I suppose it's silly of me, then, to try to reconcile my behavior with what a man expects of me.
Maybe women are manipulative. Maybe they are crazy and control freaks, out of touch with reality. Maybe I am not different than what I am believed to be, although all I ever wanted was for someone to believe me.
But I never could tell the truth. Not to God, and not to you. Instead of letting go, I just move things to where I can no longer see them. I use the inside of my foot to slide everything under my bed. Sometimes it feels like it's all really gone. Sometimes I almost believe that it is.
So when I lay on my bed, my mess is beneath me. It feels quiet and empty, and it resounds throughout m whole body until I am convinced that I am alone, and that that's the universal truth of everything, so I can stop looking for it now.

Everyone dies alone, someone said. We are all born alone, and we all die alone.
I see now that this is a good thing. I don't ever want you to follow me, bringing with you all of my misery, all of your bricks of anger and suffering, the deserts of dirt that you pile on top of me.
I'm supposed to forgive you for ever feeling wronged by you. For never apologizing, for never feeling sorry. For being so much better than me, for saying that you loved me, for convincing me that someone dead could breathe.
Instead, all I can feel is this anger, an emotion that keeps me weak, a flaw that feeds you.
But how can I not be angry when you are an insult to the human being? You disrespect the potential of man. Cold intellect and mechanical logic will do little to save you from the pain of a life without love, a life without meaning. What is the point of a genius if he contributes nothing of value to anything? What could you possibly teach anybody? The only thing you've taught me is to always be wary, especially of the people who say that they love me. Where is your compassion? Your loyalty? Your strength? Have you no virtue?

Above all things, the human spirit survives. It thirsts for life, fights for life, dies for life. What have you ever fought for? What could you ever die for? You are a joke of evolution, an anomaly of natural selection, a mutation, a malignant growth.
Cells gone wrong.
You are cancerous, feeding off of everyone else and giving sickness in return. You suck the life out of living things, you smother joy and beauty, you pump disease into the veins of society.
It is an offense that you share the earth with life, with people who aspire, who hope, who achieve
that you breathe the same air as survivors, the tortured and abused who are still more alive than you
that you rub shoulders with soldiers, with fighters, people who sacrifice themselves for the people like you.
You make a mockery of true despair. You deserve nothing, and you've earned even less. How dare you judge me by my infirmities?

Again, in the end, I can only blame myself
I believed that a machine could turn into something else.

Noticing things

The clearest thing to me is that I don't notice anything anymore! Trying to stay in the present. I've been working on tracking my thoughts, and I'm always thinking of the past or the future, never enjoying today. Granted, today usually sucks, but maybe it's because I'm so worried about everything else.
I give in so easily to my impulses. I don't think this is always a bad thing. And I'm afraid now that I'm single again, I'll be back to my old maninizing ways. Oh well. It's better when you don't let anyone too close, at least with things being the way they are.
It's funny, really. The way life is lived in cycles. I don't know why we're still under the impression that time is this linear thing, or experience is linear, with concrete lessons and results. Things end and begin again, over and over. Sometimes all at the same time. Everything just comes back around. I don't know if this is liberating or immobilizing, but at least I know it's true.

Sometimes people are just bad, shitty people, and there's nothing you can do to stop it, and they're always gonna try to make you think that you're the one who needs to change.

I can no longer handle the emotional weight of being a piece of shit.
Only God can save me now.

i was never good enough

i was not good enough i was not good enough i was not good enough i was not good enough i was not good enough i was not good enough i was not good enough i was not good enough i was not good enough i was not enough for you i was not enough for you i was not good enough for you

No random guy in the world could ever make me feel anywhere close to the way ANY random girl can make you feel.

Music

My music reminds of who I was before.
Thank you, God, for little truths.

i feel like i really never truly know what you really think and who you really are
and vice versa

Everyday I wake up and think, God damn it.

broadripple is burning

oh, darling
I'm drunk
and everything that I had loved has turned to stone
so pack your bags and come back home


and i'm wasted
you can taste it
dont look at me that way
cause i'll be hanging from a rope
i will haunt you like a ghost

if my man was a fire
he'd burn out before i wake
and be replaced by pints of whiskey
cigarettes and outer space
then somebody moves
and everything you thought you had has gone to shit
well, we've got a lot
don't you ever forget that.


oh, darling
I'm drunk
and everything that I had loved has turned to stone
so pack your bags and come back home

sink

I don't wanna let you go but it hurts my hands to hold the rope

If you call then i'm coming to get you
If you call then I'm coming out
if you call then i'm coming to get you
but you wanna sink, so I'm gonna let you

All I want is some earth and seed
to only grow the things I need
but first I must find my way back

Maybe if I did not base truths on faith, and maybe if I did not speak and act on pure emotion, I would be considered wise by men. Attractive, even, in my skepticism. If I could only approach the concept of God satirically, I would not be missing some vital component that comes with reason.
Reason is different than faith, I do not deny it, and I do not deny that it is usually more valid an argument. But I don't think that possessing faith means I lack the ability to think critically, nor do I think that it means I am naive, or predisposed to superstition.
I've discovered that there is this sort of limbo between what is intellectual and what is God, and this limbo is not anything that resembles a middle ground. There will never be a reconciliation, yet it remains a persistent struggle. A reasonable notion will always come into conflict with a faith-based one, and vice versa.
And with as much fervor as I believe in God, I hope that, in the end, I was right to choose so.

It's so hard when you don't have trust or faith. Those always seemed like such solid concepts you could count on, but when they're not there, it's like a summer camp group activity gone wrong. It was supposed to be bonding and liberating all at the same time, but everyone just ended up falling flat on their backs.
It's simple dictionary stuff. You can't be free if, by definition, you aren't.

All smart people lie. If they tell you they don't, they're probably lying.
The smarter they are, the better they are at it, and the more frequently they do it. They hold fast to the subtle habits found in their personal brand of deception, and they cling to open doors and figurative speech. They spell out the truth and play it off as sarcasm, or they pretend they don't remember a thing, or they wear glasses that they don't need, or they tilt their head in feigned disbelief or understanding.
And the truth is that, this guy, he is probably a genius. His speech is deliberate and concise, and there are few gaps in his logic. For him, emotion must be a whole different plane, a fourth dimension that is inaccessible to those who live by his reason. It must be nice for him. Never having to look at what he thinks is real and wonder if it's something he made up to just to feel better about everything. He would actually be pretty intimidating if I could actually admit that he intimidates me. A personal life lesson he has taught me is that I shouldn't believe in anything that I can't ever know.
But he probably lies a lot, because like I said, he's really smart. If he did, I would never know, and if he didn't, I would never believe him now because there is no way that I could ever know. So I have a dilemma. How could I ever trust someone who is always a million steps ahead of me, who probably knows almost everything, who I could never get the best of or second guess or convince him to stop second guessing me?
And when I lay down at night, I know that I'm a fool. I'm a woman through and through, impulsive and repulsed by the undeniable sovereignty of reason. What I feel is nothing but a denial of what they know the truth should be, stupid justifications for things I force into reality. When I don't feel truly sorry is when I must be wrong.

Good Woman

I want to be a good woman
and I want you to be a good man.
And this is why I will be leaving
this is why I can't see you no more.
I will miss your heart so tender
and I will love this love forever.
I don't want to be a bad woman
and I can't stand to see you be a bad man
and this is why I am leaving
and this is why I can't see you no more.
This is why I am lying
when I say I don't love you no more.

lol

"Don't tell me you're cold, and don't tell me you want me to come sleep with you."
Just so you remember that you said it.

Breaking up is hard to do

and I wish I had the strength to live without you.

God is good

Lol at people who what they say means nothing compared to how they actually act.

Should have known enough to know better