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I'm no poet,
I'm just a girl spewing lines made-up of nightmares, rage and some times dreams.

And... I've chased those dreams once, never finding my absolution. My burdens land me in front of a filthy mirror every time, confronting myself. But I'm grateful to know that my soul is still intact. I've ran my dominate fist against walls, countless times, only to leave behind broken thoughts. In an enraged mindset, spawns a spontaneous combustion.

I hate you, words I long to scream at that extrasolar cavernous look peering out from both my eyes. Don't hate me, hate yourself, you twit but... I'm one in the same. Allow me to find the perfect idiom to shut you out, my inner madness.

Pen in one hand and notepad in the other, filling lines of toxic waste. Please don't snort these lines as I warn, they're contagious. I secure a cherry stem around my twisted tongue to lock in the flavor.

Hot pink is my newfound obsession, a switch from forest green. I Don't know... The color has really brightened my mood. Hot pink clothes, hot pink nails and hot pink (constructive) thoughts. I'm so glad that I found the will to reconnect with my feminine side. -where have you been my whole life... .

Yuck, grapefruit. I add sugar to sweeten the bitter taste. But I'm smart enough to know, that this thing we have going here (the grapefruit and I) is strictly love -hate. So... I savored the bittersweet.

Now I know what you're thinking; this chick's normal, and I'll show you madness... Now wait! Stop right fucking there, and 'Don't' move. You just infuriated me.

Allow me to warn you that, I'm highly unstable. I've been known to pick fights with myself. If my mind is made up, leave it alone. Don't touch me, just don't. I swear that your pity touch will send me into a psychotic break, and your shocking facial expressions are no better. I refer to this state of mindset solely as, Black Licorice. -one word, disgusting. -No two! fucking disgusting.

There are days that I confined myself to a room; not necessarily having to be pitch black, I welcome artificial light in. These are the days that I need to think heavy to (only) myself. While appearing calm on the outside, I'm shattering within. In my moments of confusion, I like to kill things off slowly in my mind. So remember, I'm calm on the outside, but have a landmine on the inside. I refer to this unstable madness as Papaya, don't eat the fucking seeds.

For the past year, I've been all smiles and giggles. Here and there, I'd struggle with a bit of frustration, but nothing so serious. My heart beats with content and feels so alive. Happiness is not meant to last, because there will always be that one thing lying dormant awaiting to wake. Constant happiness, this is the worst kind of madness. While the liquid below is set to simmer, I'll be eating red tomatoes.

Will you so kindly pass me the sea salt, awe, THANK ...you.

...=-)















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