Sunday, March 07, 2004
i want sugar in my tea
(i cried tonight for the first time since the day you left. it was magnified and remembered by the mirror and it was all i hoped it would be. watching the tears pool at my chin in streaks of mascara, flushed cheeks, the roll of my lips; was glorifying. i let it happen.
I wonder if i was this masochistic before we met. is this a value that you alone instilled in my soft-shelled heart, or has it been running through these veins for a long, long time?
i feel like never eating again. a hunger strike in the name of me is in order. in order of my tears hitting the porcelain sink. amen. and not for you. i don't think i could swallow that kind of rejection, when you steal my crackers and watch me starve.
"oh well," they say.
oh well.
it won't matter ten years from now when i'm driving my kids around in the latest, safest minivan. it won't matter that i cried these tears, and it will be justified; this whole train wreck.
i feel sickeningly unattainable. it's fitting. my newfound resolutions have become harsh reality. a hand on me is a queer thought, a beating heart. sleeping makes me sweat. i can't take these car alarms, screams and slams, and constantly closing borders of this room.
weezer. bottled water. calcium aspartate! red eyes.)
and i'm jello, baby.
I wonder if i was this masochistic before we met. is this a value that you alone instilled in my soft-shelled heart, or has it been running through these veins for a long, long time?
i feel like never eating again. a hunger strike in the name of me is in order. in order of my tears hitting the porcelain sink. amen. and not for you. i don't think i could swallow that kind of rejection, when you steal my crackers and watch me starve.
"oh well," they say.
oh well.
it won't matter ten years from now when i'm driving my kids around in the latest, safest minivan. it won't matter that i cried these tears, and it will be justified; this whole train wreck.
i feel sickeningly unattainable. it's fitting. my newfound resolutions have become harsh reality. a hand on me is a queer thought, a beating heart. sleeping makes me sweat. i can't take these car alarms, screams and slams, and constantly closing borders of this room.
weezer. bottled water. calcium aspartate! red eyes.)
and i'm jello, baby.
