kickinglovers

it has made me unsettlingly angry. the presumption of another about my own - orientation. a piece of information i wish to disclose only to those i feel comfortable. to then find out i am talked about behind my back... it saddens me.

you, you with the long hair, you with the pain. redirect yourself to me. settle beside me on a cushion and talk in the dusk of silenceabout the shapes you see. pretty delicate slide we flew from right? into the mosh pit of confusion i seem to adore and hate. take it day by day... that is what the doctor said.


so begins the inability to sleep alone. the light must be on. comfort, hormones, habit - my food is devoured, like preying on a weak animal and satisfactorily dismembering the remains. my heart is aching. how can i compare my eating habits to such imagary without risking sounding animalistic and predatory.

i am timid, i am meek.
i am tired.
and this is wearing me.
control has shaken of the shackles of resistance
and left me hanging by my ankles.
upsidedown
(the world is heavier)
dues repectively rush to my head,
my blood weighing a tone.
if only i could make a cut
i'd be free of this rotting stench.
a barbaric consideration.
always a thought.