| (no subject) |
[Mar. 9th, 2005|02:06 am] |
dead to the world, she said
clove scented smoke enveloping her lungs with every wasted breath
but it was the unspoken words she was choking on when she coughed up blood.
a pain she couldn't talk about,
a past she couldn't leave behind, no matter
how many miles
her tired feet did travel.
a coffee shop nomad toting hemingway and journals
with soft brown covers and scrawling noir ink
penning a broken spirit masked as a broken heart
it was the unspoken words she was choking on
when she coughed up blood
and tears like acid rain rimmed her dark eyes
and when she cried she thought she might drown in the torrent
she thought she might like that.
dead to the world, she said, taking a breath that resisted death
her fingers rose to the challenge of the page once more. |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 9th, 2005|01:37 am] |
sometimes honesty is too much to ask for
skeletons in closets are shoved under rugs
and a history half explained gets dressed up by
a part time fiction writer
i clothe the skeletons
and they are ugly. |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 15th, 2005|08:54 pm] |
endings and beginnings
The ride home was punctuated by thick drops of rain splattering on my windshield, and the radio was content to play a mix of all the saddest songs that ever came to exist. A few blocks from my street, I wanted to throw the tired machine into reverse, not to beg for a clean return of the pieces of my heart, a second chance, or a lengthy explanation of where everything went wrong. No, I just wanted my tub of Ben & Jerry's out of his freezer and inside my hands. Maybe I wouldn't even use a spoon, just my shaking fingers to pull out the globs of brownie and cookie dough while I hosted a Johnny Depp movie marathon in my room, turned off the phone, and threw away every memory that I had taken over three years to accumulate.
The truth I had been denying was cold and hard like a blade, the fact that I hadn't been in love with him for a long time and my hatred of him for making it mutual. On more occasions than I could recall I had wanted to end it myself, but I was trapped in my tired and miserable routine, afraid to claw out of my warm and stuffy cocoon to be the butterfly I knew I could be. It was the prison I was accustomed to, I had the key to leave but lacked the power to turn it, and certainly doubted his strength on the matter. But here we were, I'm done, I need space, I'm sorry, and happy anniversary. |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 2nd, 2005|11:00 pm] |
|
i feel like i'm made of glass. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jan. 18th, 2005|01:31 am] |
oh don't you know i'd nail myself
to a cross
for you?
but your lips are stitched so close
and the blood
d
r
i
p
s
like wilted petals from a rose...
i will bleed 'til there's nothing left to give
out of blind hope
that you
might learn to live.
it's a long fall from the top of the building
but it gets better
every time.
it's a long fall from your head to your heart
but it gets sweeter
with every jagged line
hey, don't you know i'd break myself
so you could swallow
every tear-soaked piece?
did you hear of the demons
in my soul
and how their cries
beg for release?
did your shaking fingers touch god
when you held
my face in your hands?
it's a long fall from the edge of a cliff
but every rock
serves to justify
it's a long fall from the clouds to the earth
but when heaven's full
angels are first to die
don't you know i wanted so much more than this?
but it's a long fall from the edge of a cliff.
don't you know i thought i knew what love was worth?
but it's a long fall from the clouds to the earth.
i can't wait for you to open when i'm aiming to start
cuz it's a long, long fall from my head to my heart. it falls apart. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 10th, 2004|12:07 am] |
i need to say goodbye, and say it for the last time.
a box full of treasures to be buried deep.
unshed tears and a drug-induced sleep.
i need to forget the first day that we met
every day after that, the words you said and meant
but time strips words of meaning
until you don't a mean a thing to me.
and it's not that i don't want to care
but at times i think you fucked me up beyond repair
cold, broken, scarred; imperfect and marred.
who could want me? this damaged pixie.
with a heart's beating ceased, bleeding and pieced
cuz i gave you the most and you kept the least.
i'm faithless to love and its power to last.
i need to say goodbye, need to bury my past.
take this letter, written in blood, ink, and tears.
sealed with apologies for the last few years.
i'm ready to move on and put it behind me
i can only hope that all of life's good things will find me. |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 23rd, 2004|11:22 pm] |
home again
with my wrecked veins
and the falling stars
this is the place
that every road takes me
different names
with the same destination
inescapable loss
from an all-consuming vacancy
this void
can / not
be filled
home again
in a pool of blood
with the dark knowledge
that i gave all i had. |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 17th, 2004|11:19 pm] |
this journal is old.
it's back in biz so i can keep my writing together for comp class.
enjoy. |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 6th, 2003|11:55 am] |
Still peeling away shards of depression
The remnants of a hopelessly suicidal existence
Was I only born so that someday I could die?
What if some day comes sooner the next?
Or am I dead already?
I wish I could cry
But the tears only come
In moments of perfect inconvienence
The scars may fade and the wounds may close
But there still is a hole in my heart where your footsteps used to be.
If I was a little less me
And a little more you
Than maybe there would have been something we could do
But alas, there is not, and I am here on my own
Wishing my strengthless fingers would dial the number
That would give me at the very least your voice. |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 6th, 2003|12:57 am] |
|
Growing up to me meant putting less faith in others and more inside myself. |
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| LP-inspired, once again. I think in a past life I was a rapper. |
[Aug. 8th, 2003|10:58 am] |
Label me and disable me
Cuz it enables me
To finally see
All the bullshit you're always throwin at me
It's not supposed to be
Like this; so I
Carry on, but I'm watching my back
Trying not to lose track
Of every defense and attack
For such a long time I was cutting you slack
But now
I want myself BACK. |
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| i was feeling in a linkin park sort of mood. |
[Jul. 9th, 2003|08:48 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  cynical | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Linkin Park: "Faint" | ] |
Day by day
The voices will rage
Trapped inside your skull
Like monsters in a cage
Day by day
You will break away
You won't hear
The words they say
Night by night, I wonder
Where has he went?
What happened to those
Happy days that we spent?
Where did I cash them in?
And can I ever have them back again?
It's the afternoon
Your harsh words are in bloom
Taking away love once felt
And the rage consumes
Night by night, I feel the absence
Unanswered contemplations,
How did this happen?
Night by night, my tears take flight
And there's no one around.. to hear the sound.
The sun is setting
And I am betting
That it won't rise on a settled argument
I
Try to trace it
But I can't face it
Where things went wrong, I
Can't replace it
Night by night
My head will spin
With frusteration
'Til sleep closes in
Night by night
This pain won't last
If I can liberate myself from the past. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jul. 7th, 2003|05:49 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  crushed | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Metallica: "One" - "Unforgiven II" - "Sad But True" | ] |
Water, water, take me away
So that I may drown and I may decay
Cool water lines my skin like a blade
Water, carry my body into the shade
I feel the moonlight on my lips
And I reached for the stars but I caught only tips
And they burned
The edges
Of my broken fingers.
Water, carry me away
And I will linger.
My spirit, bound by h2o
Turning the pages with water flow
River dweller, so cursed and so blessed
Undine creature, lay me to rest |
|
|
| title: "obselete" |
[May. 25th, 2003|08:05 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | frustrated | ] |
I cried myself to sleep again.
I cried until there was nothing left
Except the sedimental remains on my eyelids
Smears of salt and mascara
I glanced down at bare porcelain arms
And wondered why I was still alive
When all the seemed to run through my veins
Was death, sex, and pain
I, so quick to pass judgement on others
Yet blinded to my own reflection.
In truth the person inside the mirror
Was dead, and had long since been
Her hopes dissintegrated into the dust of adolescence
Her dreams like stars, once bright, now just burn outs
I was that burn out star
Only existent in a memory of what was
No longer part of what is and what will be
There is no longer space in the universe for what is obsolete. |
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| letter to the beauty schools i sent out to.. there were six. |
[May. 3rd, 2003|12:28 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  hopeful | ] |
Hello [insert school name here],
I am interested in enrolling in your college the following year to take your Cosmetology program. I was wondering if you could possibly send me more information about your school in the self addressed stamped envelope I have enclosed. Any information you could offer would be very beneficial for me, but these are a few things I am especially interested in knowing:
• The cost of tuition and what it is included with that price
• The length of your Cosmetology program in months
• The requirements to be accepted into your school
• Any financial aid or scholarships I may be eligible for
• Do you have a job placement program for graduates?
Thank you very much for your time. I hope to receive a letter in return.
With much interest,
Katie R. Burt |
|
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| (no subject) |
[May. 2nd, 2003|11:38 pm] |
|
The elephant has left the room. |
|
|
| a poem about love. |
[Apr. 29th, 2003|10:01 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  anxious | ] |
I'm near you
But I want to be nearer
I closed my eyes
So I could see a bit clearer
The sky was there, in shades of blue
But all I could see in the sky was you
The simple things remain in my mind
Like the lingering touch of your hand upon mine
And the way that every word you say
Steals my heart and takes my breath away
I thought there was no room left for love. . .
But love has found it's home here.
I keep living my life, come what may
But it seems to me, that love is here to stay. |
|
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| "smart sally- r.i.p." |
[Apr. 27th, 2003|09:20 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  accomplished | ] |
I locked my door behind me, but my mom didn't hear it. Had she, she may have rapped lightly at the door, asking in small concerned tones if anything was the matter. But tonight, the TV was blaring in the family room, and my parents were engorged in this night's episode of "Wheel of Fortune". I was safe from intrusion and interruption.
Rattle-rattle. I tested the lock, simultaneously emptying eight small bottles out of my pocket and onto my dresser. The lids popped off easily, exposing in each bottle pills of different sizes, different shapes, different colors, with different uses. Next to all of these was a half-filled glass of water that I had brought up earlier.
When most people plan their suicides, they have a tendency to forget the details. But I was
("Smart Sally!", the kids at school taunted, "Smart Sally! Smart Sally!")
a person of impeccable organization; I never missed a thing. I knew that you could not swallow an excess of fourty pills sans water without your throat swelling and closing first. In the top drawer of my dresser was my note, neatly typed, double spaced in standard font. In it, I offered an organized list of
(the people and things that drove me to this!)
reasons for ending my life. A few years down the line, people may call me crazy- but not without noting first that I was an intelligent sort of crazy.
One after another, I swallowed, until the last of them was gone. I had downed a medicinal cocktail of Valiums, Darvacepts, Vikodins, and Motrin 800's. According to my calculations, it would be a matter of 80 minutes before I became drowsy, and 240 hours before my estimated time of death.
I layed down in my bed to sleep for the last time. This was not to be a sleep of normal proportions, this would It, The Great Sleep, from which there would be no waking up. There would be no nightmare to pull me away from state of unconsciousness, there would be no buzzing alarm clock to tear me out of bed. I became engulfed in a sea of white sheets, draping across my skin, the blood beneath it already distributing mass amounts of pain killers. These were the ultimate pain killers, for they would destroy a pain in me so deeply rooted that their smaller counterpoints could barely dent it. Only in this deep, everlasting sleep could I escape from the disease of mentality that plagued me.
As I dozed off, a small smile crossed my face. It felt like I was using ancient muscles to perform a gesture that had not been used since before the dinosaurs had walked the earth. I was confident that for the first time in a long time, I would at last rest in peace. |
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mywastedtears's journal