frustrated with myself
2003-01-16 ~ 4:59 a.m.

i can't write...and it disillusions and disarms and destroys me...

motherfuck...

motherfucker...

motherfucking motherfucker...

sometimes it just makes you feel better.

sometimes cussing is just a beautiful and appropriate thing.

why can i not i type it our, heave it up...

just GET IT OUT?

when did i become this? when did i lose that? was i so stupid as to throw it away? why yes...yes i was.

PLEASE...

pull it from me, draw it out like my last gasping dying breath...

suck it from me, drown in it.

would you do that? to save me this torture exquisite pain, would you give me more...

i love to see the veins in your throat pulse throb to life when arched.

why does it ache to hurt me so bad?

why won't the words be my friends?

why won't my mind slow down?

gets lodged halfway up and burns through my trachea every time...

i could probably blow smoke rings through that hole...

and maybe the tendrils of smoke would disband and form letters and make words in the air for you.

that might be worth reading.

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