OUHBEFSVDSGRH

I fucking hate you and how you live.

I fucking hate whatever you say.

I hate how you go through life,

sleeping in and wasting days.

I hate how you work

and I hate how you feel.

I hate everything you do

because none of it is real.

Nothing you do is right,

you all should burn hell.

The only one I love,

won't take me back, Jhanelle.

This Pestilence, This Lovers Dream

Can you feel the stares rip you from bone to soul and mesh you into the melting pot of unformed conclusions? The heavy weight of my gaze will sear what has not been seared, and rape and tarnish whatever left temptation is drawn behind you, walking in our loves blood, leaving bloody footprints, formed in the cold sand of yesterday.

My manic rises in sincereness' grasp, and deafening thrusts, into my skull fucked tomorrow of which no panic shall rise. Reminiscence stretches its skin, breaking forth the marrow of our life together.

Muscle aching for our touch. Can you feel my pain seeping out of every orifice, dripping down my mortal flesh, digging into the mind of time, and dying at our feet below us. No, our skin so tightly drawn and pulled, every nerve is broken and bleeding underneath my plastic smile.

There is no feeling and no regret. Only numbness to what you feel. Our bloody life together, dead to us and the world, reaches forward in dreams. Innards falling in it's path, limping in catastrophes shadow, rolling towards my open mouth of opinion.

Fuck you and your new life. It's only a skeleton, marred by years of solitude, rotting in the earth like my love to my mind. I can feel it dying over and over again behind my eyes, pushing and gnawing my eyes until my life is black. My life is over. Until my life collapses. Did you feel it?

A little less then hopeful

Well a lot has been going on. Little writing. That is due to a mix between too busy and no fucking ideas. I cannot figure the fuck out one simple but crucial detail. Anyway tonight I have a choir concert, which will be my last time singing in this highschool. goody. People will be crying, that always annoyed me. Tomorrow is Senior Prom. I hate prom and the idea of it. The party should be fun though. Then a nice stressful month ahead of me. I really am not looking forward to life for the next month or so, or for that matter for a long time indefinately as of now. Side effects? Who knows, but I just realized for the 50th time in my life that no one reads this. Fun and empty way to vent a tiny bit? I don't like venting. It makes me feel like I'm complaining but I have to eventually, so why not on the internet where anyone can see it? Goody

The age of banana republic, fake tans, preps

I went to Wegmans, and we dicked around. We put things in other shopping carts when they weren't looking, we reorganized the whole fiood section, and I accidentally knocked over a whole aisle of shampoo. It was fun. Then this little teenaged girl, but I mean she looks like 8th grade, baggy sweat pants that go up to her waist, tight blue shirt that doesn't quite hit her virgin bellybutton, and sun glasses that fill half of her face. She begins to follow us around, calling us retards and taking a video of us with her camera. It was really funny when she said, "This is going on Myspace! This was fun at first, whenever we waited for her to come around a corner, we mooned the aisle and waited for her and her nine year old sister to comment. Eventually my friend called her a slut. I tried to cover this up by changing the subject to my cunt sister, but to no success. She comes over and starts yelling at him. This was amusing because her insults consisted of: Fuck you, you're retarded, you're gay. And when we ignored her she moved closer so we took notice to her. Attention seeking, messed up mascara, stupid big glasses, bad insults. We concluded that she was 8th grade. So then she turned her attention to me.
Girl: Did I give you permission to talk to me?
Me: *sniff* *sniff* Do I smell slut?
Girl: Do not call me a slut!
Me: Trust me that's not offensive, if I said that besides the fact that you have a 98.6 temperature and two orfices, you have nothing going for you.
Girl: Your so gay, you have no life
Me: OUCH! *grabs chest* that hurt so much. I will never recover. I will think about that when i'm doing fucking your father.
Girl: I don't have a father
Me: I know, he was trying to get away from you *Smiles*
Girl: You're retarded
*Manager kicks us out for "stealing from customers" Which is quite the opposite.
So before we left, I took the whole line of carts out front of the supermarket, and blocked the entrance before leaving.
Rebellious? No. Cool for insulting a young girl? No. Bored. No longer

Inebriated Creations

I feel like I’m swimming in the heat of the blood of life itself. I’m dazed in binding sights and blinding effects. Everything is falling from nowhere to forever and after forever, through the ash of the memories of hatred. God forgot about this world after we stopped believing in him. So we were left alone in the darkness and we are now a failed abortions paper lunch, thrown together without care, rotting in impurity.

I’m brushed aside by lifetimes, swimming with insanity as a friend. And all good love followed for discretionaries. Strewn across the country my innards fall dim. The sunset itself jealous by the dark warmth. Help, they cry, sinking into the entity of regret. May they live and die together throughout the forever of life and nothing of contemplations.

Single served rejections, injected into veins. Ejection from the norm and completion pleads insane. Dying everlasting. Torn from limb to soul. Swallowed in the eternal grasp of tortured unwilling of old. Limping from the materialism, perilous glowing lot. We begged to grow together and die, regain to rot. Blood fell from the lips of beloveds with children beyond the grave. Unity’s integrity is flavored by war, by ash, by dear, forgot.

Eyeless, remorsed, deteriorating waste, fading to colorless noises. Fear of fear and trepidation of love may break into self reliability. Realities and fictions, synonyms of hatred. Blinding impurities fall for withered trees. Envious with life as his only bargaining chip. Fortune sits upon his imagination, glancing at the memories, then wish away his horrid dreams. Its all melting he moans, when death seeped into lights. Fulfilling his ever treacheries and excruciating temptations. Floats away does it not, in seasonal upbringings. Surreal daydreams and infinite shadows shift through the trash and into hearts.

Inspiration

I realized that my poetry is extremely abstract and interesting, but unfortunately makes no sense at all when im inebriated. When I am, which I rarely am anymore, I write random excerpts of my twisted reality and send it to my friend. i love reading it the next morning because it sounds great, but in no interpretation of any sort does it make sense. i will post it later if i remember, but until then, take my word for it.

Recently I have been dating Jhanelle, my best friends ex. don't worry, he broke up with her, AND she kissed Me. i've liked her for years. And I was accepted to college, so i no longer have any cares for the rest of the year. Wasting away in margaritaville. help