?

Log in

No account? Create an account

divorced's Journal

History

18th November 2002

5:22pm: I'd go outside if it looked the other way, you wouln't believe the things they do.
I am weak. I do not deny any of it. I can not handle it. This is very true. I am not like the others. They can all be successful under it all but I, on the other hand, can not breathe. I feel my hands moving close to my own throat. It is a training ground for suicide. But, I see the light at the end of it all. Though the failure I see makes me seek the darkness...I know in my own heart that at one point the mind gives...my point just came sooner than usual. Quit? Heck no. Test out? Nope. Join a group of high school-hating teens who spend small amounts of time doing silly paper work instead? Yup. That is what I think. I say I do that and still take art at the school. Next year take it at home too, but hopefully take Art Quest Photography too. Yeah. Then maybe take a huge amount of JC classes...maybe college. Who am I kidding, yeah college. I would be eaten alive if I said no.


Memories of China Dolls--

This sick concern
mobs-she says-mobs
children running loose
passion against civility?
These baby steps toward
pirate anarchy.
Such is a peaceful
protest.
Babies.
All the babies running for
war.
Guns and pacifiers
breathing heavy and covered
in cotton.
Send them off Daddy.
Spell their names
backwards on your twenty-year
late eulogy
A big stone plaque in the
center of some unknown city.
These are my babies at the
face of a gun.
This is my baby lying
in the dust.


Babies on Envelopes--

Momentary misguidance
child tears flowing over the
body, lying down in scum
spit on by society
put down by the people
those children look upon us
with eyes of glass
oceans of wisdom in
pools of innocence
"I understand the world
now," the little nymph girl
said--I have seen your
hands, your fingers, your
spine--it comes down
to a point-rips through
the skin--pierces
my heart.
Current Mood: dead not alive
9:01pm: Pete is the coolest boy on the face of the earth.
Powered by LiveJournal.com