toi_meme

i finished the book and it moved me. the only thing worthwile is art. 
          at some point her lover is sick and scared of dying, and they don't have any money, they have to move out of their hotel room to.a much shittier place. the roaches are crawling in his curls, fever sweat is pearling on his face.

what if i wasn't made for this after all.
          maybe this can only catch my attention for so many hours. maybe you can only catch me for so many years. 
          i am out of this. i feel everytime we're together there's a countdown. maybe i can truly have him for so many minutes. 
          
          i suck and i swallow, then i feel lonely and tired, like my head is in a haze. 
          
          i am sixteen and my boyfriend plays Rocket League on his big computer. he comments along and i sit bored on his bed. i dream of leaving and having a place of my own, to make myself coffee and sit in the kitchen. 
          
          i am nineteen years old and i am away. the island is grey and wet and the people's houses are all empty. i am cold and dream of homecoming. i dream of his tiny place and of his tiny arms to hold me. 
          
          i am twenty years old and my boyfriend logs onto his computer for hours on end to research rare live recordings of San Fransisco rock bands in the sixties. i am no longer a sixties fan or a sixties princess. i sit bored in his tiny bed,  i have no room to move, and i fantasize about a place.

ça le stresse toute cette histoire. je vais me faire piquer une tige dans le bras et lui s'inquiète de mes oeufs.

ma mère préfère mon twink à moi

j'ai faim

"i hope you didn't cut your hair too short" i used to wear spiked chokers and to resent men. though i know this is wrong, i still do & i still believe in none of your kind

i know too much about the beatles i need to be put down

i never wanted to be into your black and white fantasy
          
          it's not true what mom says about me, 
          i'm a moving girl, i'm a friendly girl, always-packing-her-things girl
          head's full of abroad landscapes fantasies
          
          i fly or i walk on and i sing along to farewell songs 
          i have friends everywhere yet i'm always lonely 
          when you enter the room because i can't help
          but to shrink into your fantasy 
          
          she's cool and quiet and never speaks wrong
          she smokes, she's on film
          behind glass she never leaves
          she's always flirting
          
          i contain your new wave fantasy
          your room's a theatre and my lines are prewritten

i used to know every name of every star so i would always find my way home 
          i feel i'm stuck in black and white
          on film and behind glass
          you hang a picture of me on your shelf next to Brigitte and Anna
          i used to wear chokers with spikes and swords 
          i used to fancy girls and dance to punk
          i used to hate your kind 
          
          with the best intentions you capture me on film
          i miss my friends

statues made of matchsticks
          crumbling into one another 
          my love winks, she does not bother
          she knows too much to argue or to judge
          
          the bridge at midnight trembles 
          the country doctor rambles
          bankers nieces seek protection 
          expecting all the gifts that wise men bring
          
          the winds howls like a hammer
          the night grows rainy 
          my love, she's like some raven 
          at my window with a broken wing