Shut it.

Shut it.

I got a little story, gotta little play
it's goes girl meets boy, boy meets girl
Shut your ass bitch, because you can't even tell

You spin your words to justify your actions
You flirt to make yourself feel better
Girls on each arm, you are what you rebel

Think to yourself, seriously
Analyze your actions, because you're really screwed
You are what you reap and what you sow

Now get the fuck out.

Make yourself a living hell.

the burns of this shit

I've got third degree burns on my heart
They are scattered and my heart does not function
properly and systematically

Thanks to you.

There are these momements of normalcy
rapped into ideas of healing
but they are all wrong.

Because still have that hold on me.

The memory is powerful, and the pain is deep.

It is so amazing that I don't believe.
It's been so long and yet here I am...
Not pining, but bitching

I hope that you and she are fine.
I hope that when you find me-you find the site
You find me buried and gone

Part me still living in pissed off poems
Nothing but the living in your head

I hope that it plagues you like, like it once did

Streams of the conscious river... here it goes
Laundry in a basket, tea on my coffee table
Here I am eating ice cream, dancing in the bathroom

There you are reading poetry, lying on the floor
it's an illusion and a dream-altogether
It's okay... I'm not talking-just lost in thought

Dreaming with those seam
I'm driving away in a minicooper
running away on a marathon

Yet here I am in my room
Typing away with the ghosts
that will not pass.

Second Hand Let Down

I saw your picture today, I was scared.
I heard your voice today, I was riveted.
I knew that cologne like a mile away.

Our mutual friend, explained everything,
dumbed it down to the ends of extreme

She supplanted these thoughts of forever.
These dreams of idealization, but yet I'm still mending.
Like that girl with the screwed up sweater....
I'm mending it, sewing it back together....
forever... mending... thinking it's through.
Yet, it's unraveling again and again...
and again....

Over and over.... line by line....
needle in and needle out....
seam by mind numbing seam
tedious and fun....
just slowing making things fit together.

I don't want your pity, don't want your thought.
Don't want an excuse... don't really want what we fought.

There are times over and over again-here I am again.
Dealing with your ghost... dreaming that I've killed it.
It's gone and I don't have to deal with it.

Only to be mistaken, to run into
another mutual friend-who said we were so caught.
There was nothing more to mention...
nothing more to say
Don't hesitated, because I'm already jaded.

There's A Part

There this part of the narrative I'd like to share
There's a part down to the core
Like middle names and favorite colors
Beloved people, who have passed away and secret realms
I was to explain it all to you, but I won't

I won't scare you will petty statement or tell you tales
Can't tell you my secrets, although you say it's safe to tell
Tattle tales of the heart, or something like it

Writing in a journal, taking back the words I've said
Writing down the words and stories I can't send
Explaining once and again.
I'm dreaming.... delirious and you don't care

Or many be it is that I care too much,
We're on this cyclical down
You ask me questions-I dodge.
Don't call me out...
But You will
Call it as you see it.

I know I do... I know that there is no running for you.