kickinglovers

If the moon smiled, she would resemble you.
You leave the same impression
Of something beautiful, but annihilating.
Both of you are great light borrowers.
Her O-mouth grieves the world; yours is unaffected.
And your first fit is making stone out of everything.
I wake to a mausoleum; you are here.
Ticking your fingers on the marble table, looking for cigarettes,
Spiteful as a woman, but not so nervous,
And dying to say something unanswerable.
The moon too, abuses her subjects,
But in the daytime she is ridiculous.
Your dissatisfactions, on the other hand,
Arrive through the mail slot with loving regularity,
White and blank, expansive as carbon monoxide.
No day is safe from news of you,
Walking about in Africa maybe, but thinking of me.

I am sick, two days sent home from work. This morn i woke beside a star(fish) and ran downstairs through the house only to throw my guts all over the bathroom. How repulsive. She lay sleepy, near to nakedness that when she woke she was confused as to her state. It was a good way to sleep and wake. A good way to be sent home ill.
Gastric Flu. what is that. Whatever it is, i dont like it so much. Needing some subtle attention right now, I'm just too sore and shakey for words.


(weds)
four pounds and thirty two pence..
any donations welcome..
i wanna go out tonight and im home alone with no parents to borrow money from.


feeling a little better, but i'm hyper over the thought of drinking a bottle and a half of vodka and losing count of how many joints. before i go out. im sure i will suffer tomorrow..
alwaysbeingblue you'll look after me tomorrow right? even if it was self inflicted.

Spoonfeed my heart.