86. Terminal B

Absolutely
Bored
Considering
Details.
Everything
Fails
Grievously.
Handling
Insipid
Judgement
Kindly.
Loving
Madly.
Negating
Opinionated
Promises.
Questioning
Ravenous
Sincerity.
Touching
Wildly.
Xenophillicly
Yammering
Zealously.

Topics as of late are concentrated solely on love, or the lack there of.
Is it because I want it that way? Am I too picky? Is no one paying attention? Am I that unlovable?
You don't have to tell me.
It's one degree of extreme, or the other.
I'm in my room from 5 pm on,
or out with people until three am.
There's no significant changes occurring inside of me.
I simply float.
I don't feel as hyper talented or likable as everyone seems to think I am.
I don't feel anything but empty.
You must be such a fool to pass me by.

85. Procession

The destruction has only begun.
Moments in ruins,
movements of solution.
Subjective and suggestive.
Predictable and quantifiable.
"I count disasters on my free hands now"
With no end in sight,
still "searching for the light."
Your reflection is only what you make it out to be.
Destructive.
Objectified.
Disgusting.
"It seems like I've been here before."
Stalking houses,
talking is far too crowded.
Locked in,
shut down.
Safe in the shell.

84. Perfecting Lonliness

With the flick of a wrist and an adjustment to light.
Crushed by a set of pale blue yes, perfection in yellow.
Feelings long forgotten, or buried you decide which.
All came barreling back furiously.
I should have been focused on sleep.
I should have been focused on having the time of my life.
But there you were, perfection in yellow.
Interruptions.
Intrusion.
Inverted determination.
Long walks, and the threat of rain.
Comfortably indiscriminate.
Quietly discerning.
Thinking loudly.
"Everything I saw, was everything I'd want"
Left now with nothing but this.
Longing for something more.
Searching for something sure.
Trying for something pure.


Waiting in idle.

Absolutely yours,
s.

83. snarky little shit eater

Dedicated to you, and all your smarmy, thinly veiled journal entries.
I stopped caring a long time ago
stop fucking writing about me.

I can never take
what you will never give.
Defining your movement
Forcing the drift.
Its always the permanence that fades before my interest even starts to wane.
memories maintain a miserable even keel
I am Nothing
For Nobody
Forever
Left to your own devices
waiting for moments to fall into your hands
Self-Inflicted
Self-Implosion
So Misdirected
So fucking dejected
All I feel is repulsion
towards all your compulsions.
All that I see,
is what we'll never be

82. highway hypnosis

Broken spirits, and broken white lines.
Aimless muggy walks, curbside life discussions, all sparked by the need for something.
The summer starvation and for some its a sweltering salvation.
Resting your eyes in fifth gear, 32 fluid ounces of iced liquid ambition.
It never helps.
Lack of focus at 80 MPH.
Lights flash,
the quiet hum of a transmission.
No respite,
no shelter.
Summer starvation in the haze of mental swelter.

81. we hung our clothes up on the floor

You think you're sly.
They bite the bait, you reel them in reeling, a new conquest newly conquered.
An oil change is a small price to pay in the long run.
Twisting of sheets.
Turning the truth in your favor.
Young and far from impressionable, get off as much as possible.
"Lets get you some strange".
Running for so long.
Longing to run.
You're so charming and clever.
Witty and eccentric.
Look at you go.
Putting your faith in closed doors.


one day...

80. three hundred and sixty five nights of sleeping alone

"They say that the classics never go out of style but, they do, they do. Somehow baby, I never thought that we do too."