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[10 Nov 2008|12:58am] |
big heart beating like a bass drum has become a whispery thud somewhere under the pillows i've stuffed with secrets because i'm still allergic to feathers
despite the strange distemper taking over in wanting someone /scratch that/ anyone to recreate the 'i'm wide awake you're sound asleeps' calm that comes with the control of breathing shallow because the tops of weak inhaler lungs squeak when i sleep and i wouldn't want to wake him up
holiday night with a colombian architect major in a sweltering san francisco a boy i will probably never see again and care little either way but to be revered like a painting in the anonymous heat felt different somehow
i need to build something again
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[16 May 2008|08:52pm] |
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i can cope with everything, with losing out on what i still maintain, in the lower recesses just below the skin you admonished me for not growing thicker, would have been quite, quite stellar, except i had you pegged as a concept and you had me down as a conquest, but ohgodplease just dont let on you wish you had it don't let on someone else could grab it because i dont do look away now, i don't do self preservation and i'll beat myself black and blue still still still just on a whisper and a reaction
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[02 Mar 2008|07:45pm] |
you visited on my first night in the new city and said so i much i didn't want to hear and we smoked in bed i let lust drive way beyond where i would go and you were drunk and formulating lies i said oh i have you figured out truth is i wish i didn't drawing on my road 'at least you'll remember me when you walk down your street' i could have laughed at the absurdity of that but the corners of my mouth still curl upwards because those silly scrawls share secrets every time i walk by
weekends passed with little sign of care or want and i wondered why i always put myself through this, but still as a dream because it is still you and sharply into focus you're all i want, and i hear in your absence of kissing competitions and in disgust forcing myself to put a lid on this, and just as the vacuum seems sealed
off it comes with new kindness and a silly resolution obvious to others just be yourself somehow it worked i sprung out the door could have jumped out of my skin come in come in come in
new legitimacy and no more fear of you, cider and a perfect night paint drips and let it be known i fed a little naked grump toasty squares and tea in bed at 7am and that pregnant pause could be a part of you melting only time will tell. i want you and you exclusively and there is little i can do to further my cause but lie down weary and waiting. lessons learnt - you cannot force someone to care, but i would wait for you and that
scares me.
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[29 Nov 2007|01:45am] |
flakes of skin have settled now, further away than i might have liked.
the need to sharpen my edges presents itself
tonights a conversation, typed, in the dark, and remembering that i can connect.
the floor below me plays host to the buds of love, she has it, again. trappings.
i'm fine, alone, in spite of my quivering hands.
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[19 Nov 2007|01:01am] |
repeating? ha. haha. so seemed such an apt place to take my worry-words and spread them out end-to-end, just so i can read over the last three years and sigh knowing nothing. ever. changes. a two year hiatus from the world of want left me with little and and and (oh cliche, but that was his crack to fall into)
yes it fucked me up beyond words and yes the achievements of all this time and space since april the fourth and the transgression that i can no longer bring myself to talk about, his cheating, if you must, do not seem to come to much in the face of a big wide lonely world and a girl who sleeps alone. most nights.
the ones where i have company from another set of blue eyes set in a regulation skinny rogue (are there any described herein, three years, that do not fit that description?) serve only to prove that, as much as i crave it, intimacy peels a layer off me.
so we tesselate for a few snatched hours, terrified of opening my mouth wrong and breaking agreed to unspokens in the dark, bedtime at 8am, i am a human just a little more than before, reborn into this boiling, seeping bed. i crave someone elses warmth, and knowing he will regret it as much as he always does, i persevere unabashed, knowing that we've got the post-coital shuffle down to a veritable show-stopper, coming up soon
oh whats the harm, you started it
i would break skin if it'd let me sink in
pulling at seams stitched unfamiliar
yanking at dirty hair, reduced to a footnote
is august and wanting you properly
now here's winter and snatching at as many of your bones that i can still reach, then let you decide whats 'not a good idea,' (oh, but afterwards) take my admonishment like a temperate schoolgirl, resigned to our strange routine of calculated, repeated, mistakes. that you always, always start .
i do not know what you want from me, i disgust myself for hoping i can sneak my way into the category of good enough
sweating and industrious, continuously fretting for a wrong look, keep my eyes shut incase i see something. oh. away with words !
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[18 Feb 2007|11:47pm] |
( the tiniest things set my teeth on edge
something i can't put my finger on
something i could easily put my fist through)
this is supposed to be some kind of threshold, right? twenty one? fuck. i swear to god i'm not coming up for air. noone has ever had this way of getting under my skin, in the worst possible sense. i want you out of my vicinity but it's not going to happen for a while, and the best way to deal with this is to take a step back. i am worthier. i have a brain full of reason ready to use in every situation, but it doesn't come easily in the face of puerile adolescent nonsense, i can't quite figure out why i care enough to get so irritated!
so this is twenty-one. i do not need to prove myself to someone i could not care less about. remove yourself from this situation, you were born beyond bitching. four months maximum, head down and rise above.
i will recede into the feint ruled momentum, i will get the job done, pull twenty four thousand words out of the ether, unperturbed by the fact that you think its okay to come in here and belittle me for it, and i will do it well, and when i come out a success i'll be the one smiling.
not for your benefit
nothing to fucking prove.
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[31 Mar 2006|08:00pm] |
finding last years words , from his momentary foray into this twilight world for losers and geeks, i'm dizzy from bleach fumes and just what alway wanted to read.
disappointingly dated, because maybe the urgency will have faded with my too-many-phonecalls and an inability to play evasive. true, i'd run away forever just to try and make him miss me, i feign non contact occasionally, even stoop to made-up jealousy for his attentions to inoffensive girls we both like just fine, just because i want to keep it desperate, love like a bomb / all tied up on cotton strings / absolutely important and kept above all other functions
(oh who am i kidding)
almost a year. still dizzy x
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[11 Dec 2005|02:51pm] |
rob's gone home for a day; no, i do not mind.
{evaporated & barricaded. ugh, sunday.
i told her we needed to have a talk.}
at the end of all of this i want the summer back.
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[26 Sep 2005|12:53pm] |
and the truth is the sexiest thing, i think.
--
walls between us made from fibers and ego. in silence & insolence. and of course the one thing, the biggest thing, that knowing i could be so much more and so much better. a girl that threw herself bodily into art and thinking and came out with something covetable to show for it. i can't be her / and this is probably only because i keep my ears pressed too readily to others pages, and keep half written scraps gathering trust behind my bed. once, sat in a park in washington d.c, i told a girl (kcollah) that i wanted more than anything to be able to write him down, and that this new love and this unbridled gush of want and worth and desperation seemed devalidated because i was no longer drawn to notebooks and update, but to his collarbone and a nice quiet hug. it's transitional, i know. but it grates.
#
despite all my age and how long it has been, my skin still falls off in bits. and i wish that this was just a clumsy metaphor but i shed like a reptile and fibres from my clothes get caught in the wounds and every single night i scratch myself to sleep. excema | amecxe . mother would be ashamed, but she isn't here anymore. so i wash the dead cells off my own clothes and bleed a little more than normal.
[
on getting up late and spying.
there will be no more of this soon and i must learn to love the seven am.
*
on what it is to be loved. it is the most unexpected surprise. it is close enough to spark. i forget sometimes, especially now that the word itself is not the biggest swear. i am all a flutter from the neat and unassuming hips of a boy that leaves his clothes all over the floor most mornings. he does not like the mornings and when i am drunk. when the world goes wrong (the restaurant gave me meat and the bus machine swallowed my coins) he is there to nestle with and smell. (gaaaaaaaaahrghrgrhffghg)
i am in lovelove, i have a brilliant job, magic friends and my body image isn't even so bad anymore. to conclude; i have been halfassed about too much for too long in my life and it ends here. and the typical thing is you and i both know that's another lie.
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[22 Sep 2005|04:41pm] |
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i am happy.
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[20 Sep 2005|12:48am] |
when i love you stops feeling like enough i know i'm in deep enough to be right under his skin and its a dangerous place to be
i've sewn a boy to my side
so what to do now except lay away and fret about the seams
x x x
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[17 Aug 2005|12:45am] |
everytime i say 'i love you' it means something new.
my boyman; the way you scrunch your nose is much missed here,
over the atlantic
here in pennsylvania
jessica hallock is playing the cello .
i'm stopping typing, the noise gets in the way.
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[12 Jun 2005|09:43pm] |
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i'm sort of mending. and when i sit and do nothing, its with purpose. some silly atrophy, with purpose.
there is a he, of sorts. well, it was always going to be better than hugging pillows and craving.
but. these are the times, i think. (words don't work tonight. foreign - feigning.)
cutting wires / trying to swallow words / filling boxes with everything i own
summer begins at 4pm tomorrow.
parcel tape, jarring.
{here is new life/ nice neice nice neice
ruby anabelle.
her father is a born again christian.
is it right to want to whisper
'no heaven no hell just us'
in her tiny little ears.
damned from the start, i suppose, and its not my choice to make.
b
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[18 Apr 2005|02:08pm] |
and the days map themselves out
brittle and unforgiving
we will get there, my love.
{
31st may - get kicked out of house
homelessish for june
no longer able to put on that show.
9th july - move into punk house
everything will be fine.
18thish july - australia
10thish august - P fucking A.
JESICCAJESSICAJESSICAJESSICA.
(you are a big heart beating like a bass drum.
stolen from one of your fans]]]
philadelphia, boston, dc, new york.
the lone traveller
meet me at the carousel
bring me your eyelids and your ;
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[09 Apr 2005|04:35am] |
sinew shakes a hand shake
from these weary wrists
we will go on talking
the band goes on playing
we never spill our guts
play it cool in our safe space
those doors aren't shut forever
your feet may not be stagnant
but what's outside is up to us.
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[06 Apr 2005|05:14am] |
give me five am and fleeting calm until i fall off the floor.
like buses?
then i think i may be about to be flattened by a routemaster.
intestines on the pelican crossing.
i'll sayitagain, its all in a string of the saddest songs and the hollow where a hand should be. the nocturn will always take its toll, a paean to the dead, the mournings aren't just lost, they exist with the force known only by a girl whose eyes only close with the dawn chorus. i'm collecting secrets in my dark circles. i can satiate with grace, i can mould my words i can manoeuvre apologies like the sweetest spun glass;
but these awkward fucking limbs aren't going anywhere.
(frightened. i want to know when it stops being okay to say you miss your mum.)
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[26 Mar 2005|04:59am] |
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let the vodka do the talking and crawl across the floor. who's cloudy and forgetting? lucid dreams and eyes burnt open. the plot plays on and the wall comes crashing into focus. and where has she gone and where has she gone? its just the quiet and the you aren't mine but i don't want to be yours either, and that is fine. still, at the end of this, after the unnecessary guilt (orsoshesays) and the burden of reflecting, invitations soaked in vodka burn much better, this is what i should learn. uninvited all the same.
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[17 Mar 2005|06:35pm] |
trains;;
somewhere in the rhythmorol, just past the intersection on your forearm, my train of thought became this week's newspaper tragedy. signal failure. noone checked the undercarriage and the machine spews out tickets like they were leaves on the line. this is an umanned station, the fat controller had heart failure. i've never missed my train before. a platform for abuse. she said its delayed. fucking delays. oh sweetness, knot up your excuses and tie me to the tracks.
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[17 Mar 2005|06:35pm] |
from christmas eve;;
should i really be awake at three am on christmas morning, penning angry lyrics for a band as yet unformed?
i'll remember this for future reference, and where have all my friends gone? i speak in stomach cramps and idle threads of thoughts and reason unkempt. pass me, cover me, let me glide neatly through the eye of a needle, i am, as always, so resolutely feeble. people used to ask if i thought about the words coming out of my mouth before i spoke them. i'm beginning to wonder myself. merry christmas bryony, you are not much at all x xx
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[24 Feb 2005|04:30pm] |
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im fucking done with there being noone
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repeating's journal