tragic little lives. we relax on satin pillows, cry about overly
exaggerated wounds. we drink for lack of other distractions.
there is no drama, there is only the idea of such. our world is
only a giant, intertwined stage in which we all play our own
sad, sorry character.
he says that i am like a parasite inside his head that he cannot
understand. i will admit it doesn’t make sense. like a fire, i
burn. more & more, daily. control of these flames is no use.
they sear all within my wretched touch, rolling & growing like
an eternally burning tide. My loneliness devours all ideas
within the axis of reason. your eyes close, close again.

i sleep in daylight, when the mindless zombie nancyboy
products & pseudo beauty queen darlings of our society
sleepwalk through the cities. along the highways, interstates
& riverbanks. they return to their silent rule over all in sight.
our kind doesn’t belong here, can’t breathe that same Chanel
acidic oxygen.

ugly world, you have made me grow in so many ways. forced
my eyes upon the dreadful kind of madness. tonight we
breathe underneath the stars, moon, gods & such. we don’t
live to feel but to pretend. i have found no repairman for
my broken heart. no phone numbers to call anymore from
stranded pay phones:

california– you too changed me, & yet it was light-years ago.
my mind’s eye will never forget every 24 hour coffee diner
that lined those distant highways, the lonely drifting strangers
& their cold stares; my eyes ablaze with no doubt the drug
choice of the week. the year. the month. and then time
almost did a cosmic somersault insider herself, enveloped
in a secretive sort of way in which i never could have seen
coming. the ocean, streets of palm trees, homeless boys
from minnesota with their roses & surfboards, seagulls crying
in perfect tune with my heart which ached, ached so for
something concrete…
it hit me in the face, all at once. for the first time in my life, i
had no where to run. i had made it to my ultimate destination.
so now what?
(and so i caught the 7 am flight from LA to KC.)

not to say that this is where my infamous fated, chemically
inspired “blackout” began. the true story, though much more
bleak– as expected– must simply not be forgotten for the sole

purpose concerning the apparent seemingly palpable end-
result. i fell in love with a boy who had no regard for the real

world, & a taste for breaking hearts. the self inside of me was
broken down.

NOW I’M JUST BROKEN;