oh yes,

oh

yes

work your way

into my arms, love,

work your way into

my hands, work 

your hands into

mine, love,
into

mine.

October 21st

18 years old and nowhere to go.

breathing

I'm so tired.
Tired of all of these people spouting advice at me and saying,
timetimetimetimetimetimetimetimetimetimeTIME
"It takes time, you'll be okay"
"Time will lessen the blow"
"It hurts less with time"

I know that. I know I know. I've already felt the affects of time,
on this, and more things than this.

"I've been there"
"I know how you feel"

If you did, you wouldn't give me advice.
You would know that all I want is to forget
about him and to change, everything, around me
to not reflect all these memories and moments
and have my furniture shout at me, "WADE
WAS HERE"

I know you love me.
I love you for loving me.

But let it lie.
Please, let me
lie.

GOD

I have the worst timing in the world.

On criticism and my poetry:

When I write, I write what I feel and then stop when I don't feel anything anymore.
The feeling, being it's sneaky little self, creeps up my back and into the back of my skull
and again, I feel it and I write.

It's a cycle.
A cycle that I can't "work the knots out of" or "re-write" because I'm not happy with the result.
The point is, when something I write flows, it's due to the fact that my thoughts flow. When I write something that catches every now and then, and sticks to itself in a not-so-attractive manner, it's because my thoughts were jumbled and sticky.

Maybe when you write you plan out elaborate stories and plant themes and you rhyme and everything is just so. And I'm not, believe me, saying it's a bad thing. It's not by any means, a bad thing. When I feel just so, I write just so. Perhaps you are always just so.

I'm not complaining (even if in the slightest way, I actually am), I appreciate your criticism.
But I don't want to re-write something that I felt. Ever.

Thanks for sharing it with me.

"I think I know some stuff.

Drugs don't make it better for me

Not anyone.

Beer tastes good

but in small amounts

music makes me feel alive

lots of people

alive

food is wonderful

creatures of the planet are beautiful

they make food what it is.

I like thinking about things late at night.

alone

but I wish i could share my thoughts with someone else.

the person who is right for me, will sit next to me, and I will feel like I am alone,

when I am thinking

because that person will be such a part of me.

it will be the good alone feeling i like sometimes."

- JC

Big TALK

Talk talk talk talk talk talk talk

is all you ever did, sweetheart

talk and talk and talk

not once did you

think of what your words

were doing

to me

that you were

changing

me,

that I

believed

them.

--------------------------

I don't have myself

any

more

no strength
or energy to
write
this

any

more.

I can't

hate you.

I can't

love you.

I don't

have you to hate,

I don't

have you to love,

I don't
have you
at all

------------------------

I don't want this
I don't want
this

I don't want
all of
this


hurt.

the last time you told me I was pretty

I was wearing my striped blue button-up
and capris
my usual shoe and
dark blue socks

opening the door
smiling and
kissing your
big lips


I'll never feel

pretty
in
them

again.

now then and where?

I feel as if

maybe
as if

yes yes
as if

I need
to make
deci-
sive
deci-
sions

and re-
vise them

be
fore I
die
for

them.

over and ov-er

writing songs I
fill the
blanks of
you and
I

left behind, there,
and here you
see

I have
replaced you
and you have
obviously

replaced
me

no longer, please,
no longer

not until I can
grasp
you
again

not until I can
grasp
you





again.