I’m torn into separate pieces, a tale of two households, unalike in dignity.
On bathroom floors we lay our scene
Does this sound familiar? Somewhere my AP English teacher is beaming with pride.
Because from new grudge breaks that same old ancient mutiny.
Where lascivious blood makes innocent hands… ugh, soo tired from typing this same stupid story. Am I a visionary, or is this a Rorschach test of…wait, no, I want to scream.
So, tell me.
When do I get to be messy?
Can I be mean? Or am I type cast clever, forever stuck in a realm of Latin roots and literary references, my own hell of self-doubt and story book sentences.
If I was a good girl, I’d be able to forgive, but I’m not so I don’t. I hold on to grudges and get paralyzed by panic attacks like premonitions.
Optimism talks but pessimism screams. Now I can’t hear the sound of my own thoughts over the ignominy.
There was a time when I’d read broken glass on bathroom floors like tealeaves. Now I study disconnected calls like broken love lines. I don’t know palmistry, but one can assume that’s not a good sign. This may be forced but let’s talk directions.
You’re good at slipping under my skin and I’m bad at getting over…
you hate the thought of me with someone else but I hate thinking about doing this for the next five
years slip past like hours, 1, 2, now we’re walking through three.
Because i’m bad at getting over you but you’re good at getting under
Me.
Wait, stop! No.
I want to scream.
I’m not here for a long time, I’ll be a new person every time we meet.
A funeral procession of past lives - that’s the beauty of reincarnation, creation, hyper…
ventilation.
I’m bad at getting over, but you seem to be good at getting around.
That’s probably pointed, this may seem mean.
But I already told you - I was going to get a little messy.
Enhance your reading experience with today’s Blog pairing menu:
Catchy tune: A&W by Lana Del Ray