thinking cracked thoughts about us.
I’m halfway there, till the end of the year,
when I’ll arrive unannounced, if I must.
My home is calm and peaceful.
Empty beer bottles and dishes as far as the eye can see…
My nose stands in line, the burn sobers me up.
The mess is now clean.
The fire is roaring, and my nostril is raw.
You’re reading the newspaper,
and I’m quietly checking out your ass…
I spend a lot of time looking at that ass of yours,
and sometimes, when you’re bending over in front of me,
I think you know that…
Don’t ignore me.
Don’t keep me on a shelf.
Don’t think that I need you.
Don’t mistake my love for weakness.
Don’t underestimate my inner strength.
Don’t assume I will always be here.
I won’t reply to your texts anymore, because you don’t reply to mine.
Yes, I know it’s childish of me.
I’ve told you so many times how much it annoys me when you ignore me though.
Annoys, upsets, and embarrass’s me.
I pride myself on not being needy, and I know I text you bugger all – once a day on average.
So wtf is your problem with replying?
Once in a blue moon, you surprise me by sending ME a text. . .
Today was one of those blue moons.
I chose not to reply – just to show you how it feels.
I admit that I giggled to myself when you text again an hour later, asking if I got your msg.
Do you feel silly texting someone who doesn’t care enough to reply?
Are you wondering what I could be doing that’s more important than replying to you?
Has it crossed your mind that maybe I don’t mean it when I tell you how important you are to me?
Has it occurred to you that I may have had some sort of disaster?
I know how small I feel when you ignore me…
What do you think now? How do you feel?
I’m high as a kite and can’t stay on track.
There’s so much I could be doing, and I’m trying to do it all…
A trail of mess behind me.
The fire is roaring, and I’m shedding more and more clothes.
The view is great from up here on the ceiling…
Bouncing around in circles, floating, flying, twirling.
Eyes watching me from the wall.
Mary-Jane calls me to sit down with her, to sit and twist…
I would be rude not to.
And would I like fries with my order?
Why yes, yes I would.
The thrill isn’t thrilling.
I’m not feeling a buzz.
I’m sick of you trying to rip me off.
I hate the shit that surrounds you – the people aren’t real.
I can tell you’ve been cut, and you won’t ever heal.
Your murderers should be shot.
I hate what people will do for you.
They’ll do it for me, but because of you too.
I like monkey shadows, and the noise in my ear,
the pole dancing pig with her laugh that I hear…
Down deep in my heart, the truth I do know,
A chick I know has just turned up on my doorstep – says she’s “broken up with her boyfriend (she says that weekly) and can she “please Nike a bag to celebrate?”…
I guess now she’ll wish she hadn’t fucked me around those times in the past… Besides, I told her last time, when I finally tracked her down, that it wouldn’t happen again… And I meant it.
It’s a cold sunny morning here and I’m craving delicious homemade crab-apple jam on toast .
I’ve got a busy day ahead, and the little bag on my dresser waits patiently while I eat…
I’m ready to get cracking now, and my nose tingles with anticipation.
…and UP she goes .. Owww Oww… OUCH!!
I feel the effect immediately – What a rush!!!
My toes start tapping while my nose runs.
There’s nothing I detest more, than a guest who ignores my “It’s time for you to go” vibe.
I’m a polite person by nature, I don’t like to hurt feelings, but OMG, sometimes I literally have to bite my tongue to prevent myself from screaming at said guest to “Fuck off!!”
Tonight it took me two & a half hours to get one particular repeat-offender-overstaying visitor out the door, I even went so far as to blatantly stop listening to her, and buried my nose in my beloved laptop instead. Still she babbled on – about absolutely nothing of interest either, I might add. I must strike her as someone who cares about what time her cat came inside yesterday afternoon, or what some random bloke at some random gas station was eating… Is it my hair? Or do I sit in a certain “bore-me-to-death” kind of way?
I’m the type of person who can appreciate the art of a comfortable silence, its a precious thing to be able to share. Tonight I can honestly say that my ears are still ringing from her constant white-noise chatter.
Tears fall from my eyes and my nose feels like it was on fire. I love the sting. I crave the sting.
I need to tidy up the kitchen – put all the dishes away & wipe the cupboards out. Hell, I might as well wipe the fridge out as well. I’m full of energy and I make my way to the kitchen (sublime blaring from the sterio) I start dancing my way thru the cleaning. . .