52 writings

xv.

is love a choice?

i think if it were we wouldn't be here. i don't think we'd have this problem, or that i'd have this problem. i can't say we; i don't know where you stand. all i know is that i can't get rid of you. i'm close to insanity. i can't do anything, go anywhere. i'm putting on your clothes like some kind of madman. every hour the exact image of your hands flashes like there's a fucking screen behind my eyes. in physics last semester we learned how eyes work. you let the light in and it's like the world projects itself through your eyeballs onto the flesh of your sockets which acts like a movie screen. then it's in your brain. so if this is true, i think there's something wrong with my eye holes. something's intercepting the light that comes in. so that every hour flash flash flash instead of seeing what's in front of me the image of your fingers outstretched is projected onto my retina. and you're in my goddamn dreams. on top of me, looking hurt, leaving, of course I follow. a pounding in my head.

i miss you i miss you i miss you i miss you i miss you

i still love you i still love you i still love you

god i hate it. i hate it so fucking much you wouldn't believe it. i still remember: 'i'll always love you;" i hate that. fuck that. why?

did you choose? did you choose to love me?

i think it's stupid. it's meaningless. if you don't get to choose, it's meaningless. it's like how compliments from your mom mean nothing because she's supposed to tell you you're pretty.

i think the thing i hate the most is the cyclical nature of this beast. two months ago i didn't miss you. two months ago i would not have seen your hands on the screen of my eyes and i would not have wanted to see them the way i've seen them ever again. but now, now i want to see them in every place. i want to see them on me. i want to see them on your books while you read and take notes. i want to see them while you're thinking making invisible gears turn. pinching a cigarette butt. biting your nails. scratching a stray scab.

FUCK

get out of my head GET OUT OF MY HEAD

i could scream for a million years

but two months ago, i wouldn't scream.

there's a beauty to it, like the changing of the seasons. at least after so many times around i know how it works now.

sweetness,

slow fade,

horror,

drowning,

blindness,

the breaks and blows,

cursing and silent screaming- falling.

sleeping.

waking,

growing,

serenity,

a tickle,

itching,

the ache,

the p u l l ,

CRESHENDO

sweetness...

it starts again.

again again again again again again again

i want it to kill me. i want you to just kill me. it will heal me, hold me, pull me slowly, tear me, destroy me, and heal me again.

over and over and over and over and over and over. please. you and me, we aren't in control. so just let it have us.