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tartbones
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Name: emmaline
Country: United States
Birthday: 10/14/1992
Gender: Female
Interests: pale skin, amusing ash trays, bright eyes lyrics, bones of all sorts, trippy films, thepillsthepillsthepills.
Message: message me
AIM:  likeneelyohhara
MSN: I
ICQ:  havent
Yahoo:  the
Jabber: clue
Member Since:
4/27/2006
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| It's monday, I haven't slept, but its light outside and i won't dare let it in, I'll sleep through this one I think.
Time during the present which since i typed that last word is now the past, always lingers, every new breath i take I am older than the one before, I hate that i can't grasp onto it and close my eyes and never let it go, collect all those loose seconds, lock them up tight and sing them to sleep, it out weighs me though, my age outweighs my being, and every new inhale & exhale time gains weight, i need to make that repetitive silence stop.
When I'm gone from the house for a short period of time i long for this house, i get antsy and my stomach churns, and i simply want to go home, i hate being away from here, i don't ever want to leave, i want to stay home just forever, its as simple as that, i've seen outside, i've seen them, i don't like it, they look mean. I don't know how to " put myself out there " be more assertive, i try to follow a normal life, a somewhat normal routine ( not including food intake ) but its this cold distant thing, it's cold here on point A, but i was born on point A, i have lived this life on point A, it is safe here, Point B is filled with people, doing things, those normal things and loud things and things that are all messy and filled up, I don't know what to do about it, i want to continue being most abnormally reclusive, just while being invisible, so their lit up eyes don't gleam with the " why ? " of it all. I hate it when someone looks at me, for that fleeting second, they saw me, i was embedded in their memory for seconds, maybe the entire day, i don't know, and that's what makes my teeth grind, the fact that i most possibly ruined that part of someone's life, i don't want to be a part of anyones life, can't you see ? can't i live in this house for the rest of my life ? this is what makes me happy, it might be a different type of happy in which 80 % of the time i insist is most certainly not happy, but it is, its comforting.... the color of my walls, the chairs that are most always inhabited, the piano that sits in the sun, the silence or mornings until my mother gets up and makes her way to the tea kettle, please don't let it end, and if it shall, i ask that i leave before it does, I'll take care of myself on that part, i might leave this earth in one piece, one final mind set.
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| Spring forward spring backwards, winter is far gone, look at the tree's, they'll tell you.
calendars begging to come down, wanting to see new day, you'd trade purple skies to see the old.
Sitting on a glass lawn, smoking your last cigarette, don't look at the sky, the chicken says it might fall.
Fall down, fall back, fall forward, fall sick, the wolf does all, and then says " Now, for my next trick. "
Trees with woven insides like like his thoughts that you adore, getting taller, more spun ring, leaves fall dead, become the roots you pine for.
Winter pallid skies, weave your fingers through every breath, icicles tied around your wrist, ribbons hanging around rooftops, which do you like more ?
bitter weather, sharp tongues, liking both, be careful of that fatal dose.
Summer when you're a dog, breath heavy, carry that gun, shoot that bird, count it's bones.
You hate being bigger, having more.
vodka filled days and savage nights, we hunt
rotting carcasses whispering for forgiveness into orange night.
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| i go to sleep with a headache, there is nothing more i loathe than waking up, i despise it, its like being pulled away from your mother day after day, you see i grasp onto that umbilical string, i do i do, it slips and slips and disappears, my eyes don't even open, i lay tangled in those blue stripe sheets wishing for it to end, this reality is nauseating, i don't want to be here, i know no one else does either, and it should be comforting that this pit is filled with other people who have had their eyes gauged out by the seemingly simplicity of existing, but we're all blind, and thats that, i can't see your face, I'm happy you can't see mine.
How many times have i said i don't know what to do with my days, how ever many days i've been alive. It's so displeasing, these empty hours, it's not as though i even leave the house any more, nothing happens here, but its safe, i know what will happen and that is nothing, i am fine. It's not like i wish to die, but i don't wish to live like this, in this shell, this revolting sight of a shell, i don't ever want to leave the house, i want to stay here, in this room and drink when i want, and snort those friendly little lines when i want, and starve that cold into town, and most of the time simply lay in bed and dance my fingers on the walls, i shall rot in those twisted striped sheets, dreaming of my broken neck hung in that umbilical noose.
" where would you like to go ? " said the magician
" some where where there are no people, where no one will find me, even after i decay into the earth. " said the rabbit as it descended into that black top hat.
poof.
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| It's already February, wasn't it just October ? I think i should stop keeping track, it doesn't do me any good.
I sleep too much, I do too little when I'm awake. I write too little when i have the chance.
How long is your hair ? | | |
| The marching band under your sheets
Little girl blue mocking your heartbeat
Little boy blue shot down by the reverberation
On the bloody sheets he asks " what is that infinite beat you play ? "
Little girl blue reply's " Why, it's your heart going into hibernation. "
Velvet lips against the brass noise
Fingers following those deathly notes
I bet the girls play louder than the boys
Your bones looked better last winter, under that coat.
Now you're falling asleep under those covers
Just like little boy blue
Pulse slow, eyes close, mouth dry as a bone, head mad as a hatter
Let that marching die down
Let that marching mimic you.
--merde, moi.
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