I want to be annihilated completely, I want reciprocal forgetting, I want the angels not to recognize me.

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Maybe I’m just too hard to love?

Why do you think it’s ok to say things like that. I am that worthless? Am I that DISGUSTING that it’s ok for you in your mind to say things like “I’m going to hit you” meaning it seriously if I don’t SHUT UP about something. If I don’t remain Voiceless and say whatever it is you want to hear. Is it not ok for something to slip out, something not about you or mean or rude, but a desperate plea from a worried girl? Something so not ok that it’s alright to threaten me and say that you’ll never care where or how I get cigarettes again if I don’t shut up right now. Shut up… after two or three sentences?

I just wrote you a beautiful love letter too. I told you about it…you didn’t ask to read it. Is that another thing you don’t care about like how you obviously care about me. 

Remember how you were in the car? When we were on heroin? Remember how abusive you were then? Remember how you BIT ME in a fight for a few bags? Remember how you would make me feel like shit everyday, make me feel less than a human being? You’ll NEVER have to feel that way because you, oh you, are a WHITE MAN and I am NOT a MONSTER.

I fucking hate everything? I wonder why.

If ou think it’s ok to threaten me. It’s not. If you think it’s working? It probably is because right now I am terrified. You’re frustrated? I’m SCARED. Fuck you. You think I was crying because I didn’t get my way. Are you insane? Maybe it’s because you made me feel worthless like some piece of shit you can just kick and not worry about. I worry about you. I love you and yes, I still do yes. 

I don’t want it to be this way. I said something stupid. I admit that, but really? 

Not cool dude.

xXx

[edit] just got told to go to hell, to fuckng kill myself and that I’m worth less than his cell phone. I screamed and screamed. I don’t get it… maybe I will kill myself or cut at least… I need to pour out this sadness and rage through some good ole bloodletting.Thanks for nothing. Also this is all because I asked him to ask his dad for five dollars. All I want is for him to put this in perspective.

Oh and I interrupted his “writing” too much. Get a life. Good writers can deal with families and LIFE in general. That’s fucking HOW people write.

So I left the car and walked to a graveyard. He followed. “Is this where you think I belong? I belong here don’t I?” 

“You shouldn’t take my words so seriously. You know I didn’t mean that. Why are you taking it to the end that degree?”

“Hm isn’t that exactly what you did to me?”

Silence, stillness, thoughts

And all I wanted to say was I love you, I forgive you, I understand, I don’t know.

-angrysadcutterextraudinaire 

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Trading Bondage for Vagabondage

Well, after about two hard years of lying, stealing, cheating, fucking the banks and the credit card companies, all for the love, no, the burning desire, unstoppable force of heroin, we are clean and have been for about two weeks. It’s nice, er, it would be nice if we didn’t have to live this miserable homeless existence in the car or out on the street panhandling. At least we’re not getting sick, right?

However there is a few problems.

1. The void in my heart/brain/soul that heroin numbed and filled is back again. I’ve been trying to fill it with my pagan faith, positive affirmations, meditation and magick. But alas, it still pains me. I think one of these days, I’m going to o step in from of a speeding 18-wheeler and nobody will be able to stop me.

2. Kevin doesn’t want to kiss me, touch me, fuck me. I thought that would help with the void. He’s been so mean to me – ordering me out of the car, throwing Charlie (my lovable oversized stuffed brown bear that I feel is my protector and good good friend), yelling at me, driving risky, and all around terrifying me. He says he’s sorry eventually sometimes – but this last time…. was so bad…. I’m finding it harder and harder to forgive him. I don’t want it to be this way, but I’m not th one that started this.

3. My parents are moving from the house that I grew up in to a home in Florida. That means I lose the house I love, the woods and trees that grow on that property that I love, my parents won’t be here to give me food, clothing or money, I won’t have access to my magick box, clothing, blankets, jewelry or anything. When I miss my mom or dad they are supposed to be there – accessible for hugs and snuggles and taking care of me when I’m sick or sad or in need of their parental love and presence. My world is literally turning inside out with the thought that they’ll be leaving MY HOME. MY FOREVER HOME, MY HEART HOME, MY GREATEST SANCTUARY AND SHELTER. Annnnd me and Kev are on methadone, which you have to go to the clinic everyday so it’s not like we can just stop that and leave. Kev can’t even leave the state right now cuz he’s on probation. And I’m not sure if dad, who hates my bf with a passion, will help both of us get set up in Florida.

I literally hate everyone right now – except maybe my mother (which is extremely odd)

xXx

Starlight

 
 

i want a boy with lips like morphine…

Knock me out every time they touch me
I wanna feel a kiss just crush me
And break me down

I haven’t written about Kevin yet. Steve and I broke up in December and it was really really tough. I cut my arms terribly and now have long, pink, puffy scars. It was the literal worst. I thought I was going to die so many times. I fantasized about it constantly. Then something incredible happened. My life was saved. I met Kevin online – I noticed him immediately on the site and messaged him. It was like magic – we connected instantly. Now we have been dating (in person) for about 2 months.

I’m scared of how hard I fell for him. I constantly question my feelings – are they real? is this really happening? I don’t know anymore. He cares about me like no one else – I don’t think I have ever been cared for so much. Sometimes I still think about Steve but it’s becoming harder and harder to remember him. It’s like Kevin is erasing that whole disaster. I remember bits and pieces. Foreheads touching, toads, flashes of memories that make me smile sadly.

I feel kindof sad today. I haven’t really been seeing things but I have been doing a lot of heroin. I don’t think I’m an addict yet though. I love it so much and I love that Kevin and I can get high together. It’s the absolute best to be able to be totally honest with someone. I’ve never had that in my whole life. really. I lie to everyone constantly. Even when I don’t have to, I lie.  I don’t even feel bad about it.

I also haven’t been eating or sleeping. The eating isn’t really an issue though. I can live without eating much. I actually hate eating. It’s a waste of time, money and calories. I like sleeping though and not being able to sleep is really fucking me up. I stay awake in limbo for hours. Shock waves in my chest keep me from nodding off. The heroin helps immensely though. It’s the perfect drug. I don’t feel like I have an eating disorder but sometimes I really think I do. The amount of thinspo on my dash is proof enough.

Back to Kevin. I can honestly say I love him. Which is weird because I never thought I would be able to love anyone but Steve. Kevin literally swept me off my feet. He became everything so soon. I don’t quite trust it yet – but I want to oh I want to. We also have the best sex. Which helps alot. We haven’t really been doing anything because of all the dope and work and such but when we do it’s amazing.

I feel like I’m chasing something – like an idea or a ghost. I feel crazy a lot. I haven’t felt myself all week. I feel broken and bent and disordered. I feel like this is the consequence of some brain chemicals gone haywire. I feel especially moody. I feel like I should be writing poetry all day but I have homework to do that I have been putting off.

fuck.

xXx

Passing your house the other day…

nostalgia never fails to reach me.
I never fail to remember the dates to every single important thing that happened.
I remember the date when we first kissed, I remember the date I met your parents,
and I remember today’s date last year.
I remember that day I was really upset about something and started crying on the phone and you with your goddamn sweet voice started reading that goddamn sweet poem I gave you earlier and I guess you thought it would make me stop crying because I did. and I smiled and I remember you telling me how much you love me and how I felt your comfort and presence even though I was alone in bed and I remember that night clearly and I remember. you loved me.
nostalgia never fails to make me miss you.

 

xXx

Pen Pal, Asylum by Megan Merchant

I’m loose wires, twirls of yarn hair,

burnt-ash eyes swept from a stockroom floor.

I’m eighty percent paper, pink-thin skin,
litmus-blue for you.

Rub against my matchstick shin,
I’ll ignite.

Wind me up, wind me up
take me for a ride.

My rag-doll lips are vigilant as vultures,
soft as weathered-leather and chard.

My kiss is a spill of cumin on soft
bread, spongy-warm, rising.

Some man patched my wounds
with slop from a bucket.

He milked me, swirled me,
spit me out.

Another burnt buttons along my back
with his cigarette,

said he could see my spirit, like stuffing,
puffing out. I was his child-bride.

Now, I’m yours to sew together,
your pile of groaning breasts and thighs,

a scabbed-map of slices. You can split me
down my scar-lines. Shave me.

Save me. Shoot what you want
into my veins. I’m a cloud pocked with rain.

Wind me up, wind me up,
dig your hands into my spine.

I’ll be your puppet, your glamour-girl,
your bitch-in-heat, your insane.

I’ll play twice-as-nice once the pills
float down this numb-ebbing wave.

I have time, so much time, for the fog
to burn off, the pollution to clear from my brain.

Can you hear the seagulls shriek swallow, swallow,
then check my tongue for a razor out of place ?

(They have trust issues.) Come see.

Crank the bars from the glass. Free me.
I’ll be your moon, your gun. Your edge to scratch on.

I’ll write every day.
Even though it’s hard to know

which one becomes the last. The light
here shines florescent as the waxed floor.

Glory

I met this boy a long time ago
His eyes were Caribbean pools
And his mouth – a plump crabapple.
He moved through my forest like a fire.
I loved his cinematic swagger, an
Infectious confidence, heavy in the air –
He never mentioned he would always
Speak in code, speak in riddles –
I didn’t get how much it would hurt at the time,
From here to someplace where I would be
Standing over my own plaster heart –
Bones bare as chains, he was the light
In my bedroom on the nightstand that
I always left on, wishing I didn’t cry the
Whole way home – a light
That created all the shadows.

I met this boy a long time ago,
He was looking on this earth for a place to stand,
He was afraid but it was a fear that understood.
I loved the way we drifted away from the group
The day we first met, the day we fell in love.
We had a moment where our eyes met,
His thin arms around my shoulders.
The moment where we could have kissed,
We were both thinking it.

I cut the daisies at the waist,
The ones he gave me.
I put them in water, told them,
“drink up, baby, drink up.
Stay beautiful before you die.”

We live in a mad, mad world

Sometime I don’t feel real. I feel transparent or sheer. People see through me or don’t see me at all. I can’t even see myself at times. I have blackouts when I drive. I am there driving then in a moment I am down the road and don’t know how I got there. I still see things – at times, I feel possessed by something more than myself. It’s not a supernatural sort of possession – but it is a demon of sorts. I have been more driven, more in control, more obsessive. Right now, I am obsessed with Victorian England – but in a way – I always have been. Writers are always in love with things that are long gone.

I have been writing poetry as of late. I can’t seem to stop. Nothing is good – I am unsatisfied with the words I write versus the emotions I feel and what I want to say. I remain uncertain of myself and of my path in life.

I have begun eating breakfast and lunch and dinner, but at the end of the day – I still average 500calories a day plus exercise. I try and exercise everyday in a valiant hope to shrink so my visions of disappearing can truly manifest and people will see what I see at last.

Steve, my boyfriend, is still sick and virtually nonexistent in my life. He never answers my calls – misses he special goodnight calls too. He is a broken boy and I still love him though I don’t think he deserves all the unconditional love and time I devote to praying for him, loving him, calling him, thinking about him, shopping for the perfect christmas gift for him etc. What’s worse is that he told me that when he does get better – work, family and friends will come before me – me. me who stood by him, who kept him company, who gave all of myself to him. I just don’t understand. I feel terrible about it.

xXx