scythe42

scythe42

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I want to kill something. I want to rip its skin off quickly, with a steady hand. I want to do this quickly, precisely, with as little blood as possible. I want to stab something. I want to injure something. I want there to be no blood, no mess. Just pain. Just pain to stop me from thinking like I am right now. From thinking constantly and worrying and wondering and not knowing and Uncertainty Uncertainty why can't I be Steady? Why can't I be consistent? Why can't I be the person that everyone is. Stable. Fingernails in flesh giving me peace finally peace, just feel the pain feel the flesh, the indent, the grounding of reality. Steady. Steady. I am here. Thoughts drown out like tadpoles in the ocean, waves of pain pulsing under the skin, just reminding me to be Steady. I just wish I could be.

We sat on the patio, brownies in a pan on my lap, sitting in the sun behind a cat. Licking frosting off of fingers, drinking lemonade. What a sunny day.

I grab his face and kiss his neck and pull his hair down from his skull and bash his face into the window five times or more and wait until the glass stops dripping blood down his nose in his eyes from his mouth. he wanted me to be angry I became angry. I don't think he appreciated the outcome.

flee

I hate when plans are not planned and sentences are not valid. I hate when plans change and they expect you to get 5 hours of sleep and fucking go somewhere you weren't fucking planning on going this weekend this month this year this decade and you have to leave and you are angry because they're making you leave and no one ever wants to leave a place that's warm and comforting and has all of your friends where you can talk to your friends and not be bored and not go crazy and not need to play the cello and you can just relax and write poem after poem of the plans you have for yourself in the future.

flyer

cognitive dissonance "i don't fucking give a shit about supporting my fucking teammates" ha. Funny. Calm songs playing in angry minds and apathetic heart. Wondering how to pull them down flying into a large building and shatter their femur, blind their eyes so they can be just as unaware of the world as they already have been. They'll just notice it this time.

You know what amazes me? As I sit here reading articles about video games and thinking about buying neutral colored shirts and shorts, how someone can walk down the street with their heels clicking past them and their skirts flowing and have the world take them seriously. With loads of make up on their faces smiling like they don't have anything better to do than roll in the grass down a hill, jump rope on the driveway. How are they going to be taken seriously? their high pitched voices will seem like a nuisance and laughter will follow them, yells and cat calls driving past them. Will they be heard? I sit in my comfort zone enjoying the view from the inside, glass window women walking by waving hi. How will women ever be taken seriously?

He mentioned the last time I saw him. I was sitting on a bench, watching the sunset, as he walked away from me, whistling like nothing was wrong, backed up his car and hit the road. I didn't see him for years. I hope he got better, improved his life, got his shit together. I don't think I'll ever hear from him again,

duct

I hate when lecturers lecture me like i wasn't even listening, duct tape my mouth so as to not ask any dumb questions. And sometimes I would write my notes and draw dragons on the side, breathing fiery knowledge at my side, giving me words to spit back at the people who think children don't think, children just lie and lie around, don't even hear adults, the sound flowing through their cerebral spinal fluid. Lecturing works, they say, lecturing works because children need to sit still, don't question, sit still and listen to everything that comes out of adults because adults are right. Don't think critically, don't be ridiculously thinking that's alright, to question authority. Authority is for you to listen to and everything else is just background noise.

I haven't brushed my teeth for two days, but this music tastes like mint chocolate chip ice cream and meaningful conversation in a slurry of realizations. Words don't come so easily to me. Crossroads taking me somewhere, afraid it's nowhere, but life will keep moving me along, as will infinity. I'm petrified that something bad could happen along the way, driving my home home. I might drop off my senses before I get there, lose carelessness I never had, never let go of time constraints and always close the window panes. But this song feels like infinity, and words might finally mean something.

I think i have the plague. It is growing inside me like a watermelon seed, but it's only for female humans, eating away at intestines, at my heart and my lungs and I cannot breathe I am drowning drowning from the past and the blackness of my future as it envelopes me into looking into glass nothingness. My reflection does not stand but walks away from me, shaking her head, tears licking the floor as she slips away from me. And I want to know, where did she go? what do I do now.

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you wrote about complete
“Sometimes I don't feel complete. It's not about relationships, or passion, or hobbies. It's not about new rugs with a victorian style and traditional taste.”

the words you reach for

faceeyessunsometimeswaterwordsnightskywonderairskinheargrassdarknowbreathe