Rainy days
I often long for chilly, cloudy days that urge you to stay inside, in bed, asleep.
The gray clouds and bitter air justify my laziness.
More importantly, the dark skies mask my dreamlike state.
Fantasies abound as I force sleep to return. Like an addict snorting up the crumbs for that last hit, I suffocate my sight and cover up my sound --- pushing myself to prolong the high.
I'm victorious in my vivid, wakelike dreams of love and life.
There's no sun or warm air or blue skies released in the atmosphere.
My forced fantasies are turbulent, murky, a love that's demanding and violent.
When I wakefully dream, eyes wide shut, my hope is for an uncontrollable love.
I don't want to ease into it. I'm a big girl, you can hurt me.
My love matches my history of despair.
It's reminiscent of high soprano notes bombarding the climax of a song: painful in duration; powerful in persuasion.
Sunny days aren't helpful, they encourage a Sesame Street world.
Yellow birds chirping, happy children learning, steadfast friendships growing.
That love isn't for me.
I've moved on to Showtime, NC-17. I dream of erotic horror experiences where my love pounds into me,
or sometimes I impale myself onto its long, sharp, hard erection.
I enjoy it when its unwanted, that's when its also the strongest.
Sometimes I try to talk about my addiction.
Do you ever want to blur the lines between pleasure and pain?
What's your method?
What's your bittersweet, life buoy, keeping you afloat?
Is it money? My love can't be bought.
Is it sex? My love can't be seduced.
Is it drugs? My love isn't an opiate.
I want to be clear-minded. Don't numb my feelings, don't dull my brain.
Don't intensify my touch and jumble my sense.
Like the impact of a bullet. BAM. BAM. BAM.
Loud, direct, on the mark, sure, intentional.
It's addictive cuz it's easy.
Ever hurt yourself?
Bite your nail til it bleeds? Drink until you threw up? Smoked til you passed out? Ate til your stomach burst? Walked til your legs gave out? Read til your eyes dried up? Kissed til your tongue cramped? Talked til your voice was gone? Sleep til you never woke up?
The gray clouds and bitter air justify my laziness.
More importantly, the dark skies mask my dreamlike state.
Fantasies abound as I force sleep to return. Like an addict snorting up the crumbs for that last hit, I suffocate my sight and cover up my sound --- pushing myself to prolong the high.
I'm victorious in my vivid, wakelike dreams of love and life.
There's no sun or warm air or blue skies released in the atmosphere.
My forced fantasies are turbulent, murky, a love that's demanding and violent.
When I wakefully dream, eyes wide shut, my hope is for an uncontrollable love.
I don't want to ease into it. I'm a big girl, you can hurt me.
My love matches my history of despair.
It's reminiscent of high soprano notes bombarding the climax of a song: painful in duration; powerful in persuasion.
Sunny days aren't helpful, they encourage a Sesame Street world.
Yellow birds chirping, happy children learning, steadfast friendships growing.
That love isn't for me.
I've moved on to Showtime, NC-17. I dream of erotic horror experiences where my love pounds into me,
or sometimes I impale myself onto its long, sharp, hard erection.
I enjoy it when its unwanted, that's when its also the strongest.
Sometimes I try to talk about my addiction.
Do you ever want to blur the lines between pleasure and pain?
What's your method?
What's your bittersweet, life buoy, keeping you afloat?
Is it money? My love can't be bought.
Is it sex? My love can't be seduced.
Is it drugs? My love isn't an opiate.
I want to be clear-minded. Don't numb my feelings, don't dull my brain.
Don't intensify my touch and jumble my sense.
Like the impact of a bullet. BAM. BAM. BAM.
Loud, direct, on the mark, sure, intentional.
It's addictive cuz it's easy.
Ever hurt yourself?
Bite your nail til it bleeds? Drink until you threw up? Smoked til you passed out? Ate til your stomach burst? Walked til your legs gave out? Read til your eyes dried up? Kissed til your tongue cramped? Talked til your voice was gone? Sleep til you never woke up?
Posted @ 2:19 AM
2 Comments :
:::sigh:::
all i have to say is seriously give law school another think
I can't do corporate work for pennies. At least with law school, I can do something else I'd enjoy for pennies. The reality is, without an advanced degree, options are limited (on the road to a successful, comfortable life, for those who weren't born into it).
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