Hips and Ass for Jesus (you were my friend).

i can't believe how sunny it is. how this room is pressurized by the yellowing star. crystal prisms hung in the window are making little jumping patterns that swirl on the rug and walls. it's so hot, stuffy like a sunday morning where you're required to wear stockings. i'm listening to "don't give up" by peter gabriel/kate bush. i used to hate this song. it's calming now.

there are 3 birds in here with me, bernard, ray and boris. head's floating b/c of the new dosages. i think i'm getting
prosaic
now.

ducks in and out of my life
that which sincerity beams upon
the flawless porcelain morality:
knows the cross better than anyone.
"watch us, watch me, listen you mute
upon that which you'll never pronounce:
i am so pure.
i am so goddamn loved."

let it be then. hold it close though, don't you
know?
learn something
from history that repeats itself
you dumbass.

but then again, i won't ever be a part of secret club
i'm only the fascination
of gum on the sidewalk
pliable, colorful
garbage.

so then friends find their own ways
and then they are able to make friends again.
find the path first? aren't i allowed to
just be a happy mistake?

your mirror makes me a gargoyle smile, approval
but kept at a distance, affixed at the rafters
of your temple, now whose athena will you be?

it's just pissing me off, that's all. there are a lot of things (ok, not that many things) in my life which are getting more exciting, inspiring. this ain't one of them, i realize. i just hate the feeling i get when i think about a certain time when i gave all i could (not like money or anything) and god, it's not their fault. i lost my mind. it's not my fault either. still that's a good enough reason to be looked down upon. cerebral darwinism?
i can't come to terms with it. i never knew how to be a good female-friend. i hope you're happy, princess. you have it all over me. who wouldn't want you for their own? and over and over again, who wouldnt'??

i never did.


meanwhile, it's almost 5 and yay, i've remained conscious throughout the operative window in which my new chemistry strikes.
i can't breathe though. can't stop thinking about people i used to know. "bottom of the ocean she dwells."
someone says "be proud, you're an artist." someone else says "not worth it anyway." even more someones: "enabler." they all cancel each other out because they're all rejectors of me. am i dangerous to them? when did i used to have friends?
i envy them now, the non-obsessive. ideas clear-cut, linear-- each day is a narrative. each day is an egg to hatch (not to fry). they handle their emotions like checkbook ledger, sometimes it runs away but always, always back to the same page. purpose.

this is not a contest! love used to be free! why are girls like this?