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I wonder if I can write a poem. I probably can't. oh well

April 1st, 2009 (10:57 am)
current location: the chair
current song: kate bush - this woman's work

Doped on glucose, disease,
And severe lack of sleep
Casting inane fantasies
over a future boding bleak
Nervus structures, weep
As I see
I am fated to drain my soul
forty hours a week...

Unwelcome memories
Arbitrarily recalled
The peace, I can't keep
Thrust out from my reveries
to where the hollow grows deep
claustrophobic veins, I feel
Saccharride and Cortisol
maul for their place in my brain,
I shift and stir in my seat
from the swarming of pain...

I perpetuate existence
for my pitiful gains
Always looking out
at the world, with palms agape
Receiving only violence
and narrowly escape
I know
I won't survive the chain
I see it returning,
It comes for me again...

Projecting forth my prime,
and searching for a kin
or something that is mine
it fractures into pieces,
so I only keep it in.
One day I'll wake up changed,
I cannot predict when
Another day is only lost,
as I awake the same again,
So much precious time,
fractions of an existence
in it's interminable persistence
ceased, and released,

I haven't written something like this in years, I don't even know anything about poetry. but that doesn't seem to stop a lot of people. so... HAYY.
I am on the receding end of a sudden surge of shifts, and I'm happy to have 2 days off. although, i'm often happy to have any days off, I hate working. who wants to work?
But I've been doing a lot better at my job, all of my managers have been telling me I've improved a lot, to the point of becoming one of the most productive crew members. so that has made me feel better about jobs. for once my efforts are recognized! for fucking once! although it still kinda sucks, it beats McDonald's.

I've been meaning to post something for a while now, but I just haven't felt up to it... I still don't. In fact, this is pretty much all I will write.
Let me know if poetry is something I should never ever attempt again, if I should find a tall building to jump off of, or something sharp to impale myself with, etc. or whatever thoughts you have on my foolishly misguided attempt at poetry.
Oh, and if anyone in the Barrie area is interested in a cutting party, holla atcha gurl! i'm down. can't you tell?
I just want to get high and get hurt by someone, like those girls in Thirteen when they were huffing air canisters and punching eachother in the face. so glamorous, so beautiful. email me if you're down, earth_wind@hotmail.com
thanx, bye.

PS. Go see Synechoche, New York


Posted by: Clearwater (clearwater88)
Posted at: April 3rd, 2009 02:34 am (UTC)

nice poem
don't cut.=(

Posted by: ((Anonymous))
Posted at: April 17th, 2009 11:06 am (UTC)

chin up, you.

Posted by: ((Anonymous))
Posted at: April 18th, 2009 04:45 am (UTC)

I am all for exploring ones limits... that being said however... don't cut! Your way better then that, and would your really trust another enough to inflict on you body... the sacred ground that it is potential harm. Just saying things can go wrong. I care enough about you to say please please... just don't.

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