EpickBlonde666

hide the cathexis within the grime of the earth; a wild mixture that will smudge your pretty little eyes and leave your soul aching for everything starlight promised when the skies were dark.

    I sighed to myself, just as my mother would have had she been sitting in my car driving along State Road 19. The startling problem I had at this point was the fact I was entirely like her. The woman that had sent me on a one way road to Hell, the person I swore to the smallest stars I would never become, and yet here sat the replica of the 17 year old Monica Renee Withers. It was a damn shame that I had wasted away into a terrible wastrel. My brother turned the radio down, reclining in the passenger seat.    "What's your deal?" I asked, flicking the end of my cigarette out the window. Romantically, I loved smoking. I coughed, rolling up

    "You are not beautiful."    I can still hear the way my mother's emphatic voice told my five year old self that I was not the definition of beauty. "And don't you go around and let those country boys say you are. Because they will do anything to get what they want." My brother, who at the time was seven, would turn toward me and shake his head. In my innocent mind, it didn't matter; beauty wasn't a concept I understood. I didn't understand that beauty is the sunrise every morning or the dew droplets on the grass, and I definitely didn't understand that I could be it.

i. my mother taught me as a child that there are 206 bones in the adult body. i kept this fact to heart; even today, after she no longer teaches me anything besides how to run away and how not be there for your children, the fact that my bone count will, without accident, remain at 206, has always remained with my conscious mind. ii. science is beautiful. according to science, nothing can ever leave the universe, only transformed into something else. a transfer of energy, a chemical equation, a change in matter; your bones and skin and grey matter will always remain, far after your gone and lost in the earth, if as nothing else besides dust.

i. i hid my secrets in number two pencils; deep within the graphite your words tumbled out of my fingertips, adding grey blood against white skies. ii. and it never took long for your hands to find me in the darkest of your moments; to hold me against your chest like a metaphorical lifeboat, a stillborn hope that would end in your untimely demise. iii. winter storms wracked my soul, subtracting and tracing every vein within my withered body. your breath left icicles from my heart and i would never again understand the sun. iv. hands traced every curve of my pathetic being and led lost love to the depths of the sea; my lungs drowned before

i can recall being much younger than i am today, and whispering to you what is beauty? and you calmly smiling saying i'd never know true beauty till i threw myself at the open sea and just let go [little did we know, later in our years, true beauty would appear in the way of a soulless dreamer, a girl with never-enough-breath, a wish among the stars and giants within the universe; and i'd dream of brushing her then long, blonde hair, kissing the flaking stars in her eyes to help her sleep at night.]

We met on a blusterous day; the wind stung and slapped, trying it's hardest to be gentle without succeeding. I knew immediately that I was toxic to your life, and the thought came to me through the reflection of your eyes. They suddenly had more power, as if you had this impulse to attempt to tame the wind and every lion and me. Your hopes were sweet; actually, even flattering on occasion. You wanted to break me, tear me up and watch me float away on the breeze that wouldn't leave you be. How ironic, it would turn to be, that it would be I to bring the first tear to your eyes. But you would blame the wind.

made like a maze, your mind was always too difficult to navigate; it hid much too many paper thin secrets lost between the sheets that shielded your eyes. i tried, with the help of my arduous love, to uncover, unsheathe, unfold everything that had ever gone sour within your existence, thus far; but when the dead build on top of living, breathing life, abruptly the will of the animate loses all promise for a gift past expiration. and so began your expansion, your wistful takeover, starting with your core and spreading to mine, uncontrollably.  

i. i love you. from the crease on your forehead, to the negative space between your toes. our minds blended, legs twined with sweaty palms, making one song out of two melodies. ii. gun holsters next to thought, my heart lit on fire when your fingertips first molded the clay of my skin; long, thirsty nights with heavy eyelids and twisted bed sheetslearned to be my favorite. iii. i am human. i will learn the fragility of the world at its strongest moment, where my love will no longer make a difference: when moths eat through the universe, tear it string by string, that's when the world will know what strength is.

nights that were empty, holding only the noise of echoing midnight trains and rolling clouds of fog, where the only light was the moon that gleamed with a secret, were the nights i feared they led to optimistic thoughts and razor-thin hopes, sure to bloom with spilled blood of my lowly, little heart. strangers that lived inside the weak ruined the soul of the wounded strength of the interior of the universe; my mother always warned me to never trust anyone with a kind smile and warm face instead, she sought to teach me to never trust anyone, including herself, and brought me to the gates of my worst demons. witching hours became friends

i. i remember long, lonely nights when i was younger; before i knew writers' block and artists' heartbreak, where the moon hurt and the stars left pinpricks against my eyes. ii. i met the sun on a fall evening behind a broken bathroom door in liquor locked lust; his hands were warm, pleading treaties with my skin. iii. the atmosphere held promises like a dam about to overflow, filling with emotions and anxiety as quickly as an artist filled their canvas. iv. and while revolutions would continue, the stars still made my heart bleed; they disguised all my scary demons and made them strangers with pretty smiles, trying to snuff out the sun.

i. the stars whispered lullabies, soothing, feeding, nurturing their worn out soles, for safe arrival at dead hours ii. his hands held sorrows too vast for the ocean his mind homed, tides, pulling and pushing, coursed through the veins he chose to scar iii. her smile hid evil lies; secrets of past nights with strangers who spoke like smoke and groped like fire, ash and soot left trails to her most intimate hiding spots iv. corpses caused by capitalism play when the world sleeps, catering themselves to the mind's less fortunate friends, war, money, booze

i. I held your hand and promised a change in pace; a life away from this all. In simple, an escape.    We ran down a quiet country road that lead to Anywhere on the corner of Nowhere; hoping and praying to a person we didn't believe in, that we would eventually find all that we were looking for. ii. Your smile held my world within a glimpse, a bright and hopeful blimp on the universe's surface. Visibility was limited to me, and fortunately, me alone.    Lips softer than believed kissed away my hardest fears, forcing love and hope into my heart, brain, soul. Your life was suddenly my own salvation. iii. I promised you I'd write a song for

I've                        fallen so  far for you