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God damn it.

...I have been left in a ditch on the side of the road, waiting to be seen. But no one came.
So I stood on my broken bones and climbed out into the light of day, with leaves and mud caking my body.
For one silent moment, when no cars were near, I contemplated actually screaming for help. But no one would come.
I decided to walk. 
There were no lights of civilization, so I had to choose a direction and stick with it. 
I had no more tears left, no crying for me. Not even a whimper. 
I held my head high and walked home in the nude. 
No one saw me...

The sickness that never ends.

It's been a long time running.
School, work, music, my stupid art..All of it I would chuck away just to have a moment of complete ignorance.
It would be beautiful to be unaware of the nastiness. Unaware of the seething hatred I have for myself.

"HAha! Get over it you weakling!"

Fuck you too, honey.

I don't want to eat.
I don't want to eat.
I don't want to eat.

Every single fucking time I take a bite, or eat a meal, or dream of something delicious-
The rotting stench of guilt robs me of my senses.
I feel sick after every bite...But I'm hungry...I need to eat something!
And every day I pay for it.

I don't want to look
Into another mirror-
Not again.


-The night has come upon us in graceful waves.
With a thieves' heart and a constant weary we set out onto the dark streets;
With open windows and closed doors.

We met at the beach by an ocean that had an angry name
There the fish were gasping for air and coming to the surface
And in the background men made of clouds and sea salt played the violin with intention.

"Who is that man" I said with a trembling lip
"Why does he think he can look at me so-
What gives him the right to have such eyes?!

I made my march and shed blood with fiery
I held my tongue in time of war
But only now am I allowed to look deeper into my shadows.-



September has been a long month. I have felt many emotions this month, but most of them were just mild episodes.

I'm wrung out. Tired. I want to bounce back but it hurts to wake up right now. I'm not depressed. Which is good, but at least being depressed

would be the explanation for how I am physically feeling. I am cruel to myself and that is the only person. I wish I wasn't like that either.

I have all this creative energy but I don't want to use it. Stupid stupid girl.

Worry List

* money
* getting a second job
* losing my bartending night
* getting fatter
* not getting motivated enough to lose weight
* making Justin feel completely insignificant
* getting sick
* my teeth
* my face is itchy

This curse

Constantly this curse of dreams.
Its never resting whenever I close my eyes to sleep.
I dream of death and love and hate and fear
And every time that I awaken
I am then confronted with my ongoing nightmare.
Lids peeled back.
Exposing burning veins and sticky eyelashes.
Crud cakes and crippled tongue.
Why can't I just sleep?

Subconscious torture!


My ovaries hurt.

I don't trust people even though I really want to.

I hold it against people severely for being arrogant.

I hate it when old people stare at me.

I love Wal-Mart. ( shut up )

Closed minds are for victims.

Snitches get raped in jail.

My heart stares at me from
Across the room
His whiskers grinning
With sleepy sexy eyes
Resting upon something
That smells like me-
Although he is death or rather
Deaf (excuse me)
He knows what I speak of
When magick licks my lips.

My little deaf kittie. His name is Roman.

My Altar.

The first one is my little garden and energy housing. I also bless jewelry on it. I have recently added more to it- but...ya know.

The second one is my actual altar. My tarot cards are missing from the right hand bottom corner. I have been using them a LOT lately.
It's small, but it fits my purpose.

Unecessary Pain.

I'm not in the mood to work. I want to sit here and stare at the wall and contemplate contemplating nothing.
The air is full of static and everything I press against my skin is uncomfortable.
Why is my breathing so slow and sparse?
Fucking people who stole my bike.
That was my bike.
It was a present.
Mother fuckers.
Walking in the heat...
A heat so hot you start to cook from the feet up.
I always hate it when my ankles start to burn.