Waves

Light smoothies in winter make my throat burn, so I tried to dim it down with some tequila I stole from a babysitting job, but all it did was spill all over everything I own and make things reek of alcohol, goddamnit karma really does fucking exist. I don't know what I was thinking when I thought it would be a nice idea to run in this weather. My cheeks are soo cold, and along with my ice cube nose, they make a perfect cold pair that I wouldn't mind your hands warming because if you do it would finally mean someone cared at least a little bit about my being cold and I wouldn't have to rely on the cat to warm me with her tiny paws and furry little body. Being pleasantly warm makes my blood rush and my heart feels and sounds like a million honeybee's flying through my arteries that have been under lock and key for soo long now, I wasn't sure what I was thinking pushing my luck with a man behind a locked door and some melatonin pills that have never actually worked for me and make me stay up way after dark with the bird. Lavender tea in the mornings makes my fingers warm so I hold it like it's the most sacred thing I've ever held in my hands, much like I'll hold my first child when he/she comes along and I'll have to explain, 'Mommy holds you like a sacred cup of tea, because all she had before you was tea and honeybee's to keep her company." and they'll giggle and I'll fall even more in love with them (I hope).

Maybe I'll become a beekeeper and where a funky net over my eyes so they won't sting me and I can have all the honey in the world and I promise not to hurt them as long as they don't get 'krunk' with me. I would plant a million flowers if you would only peak your head in and see how beautiful this life is for me and how I love hummingbirds and sparrow's in our garden I've made out of so much more than we've ever had. I let her run her hands over my ribs as I dragged her through the crowd of people to see one of our favorite bands because she's sweet on me like any man and she's funny so I smile all the time. I didn't mind when she made it so I could see by grabbing my waist and leaving her hands in the pockets of my waist because I have curves and she loves to rest her hands there even when were not laying down and marvels at the dips and rises in my skin with her fingers and her lips and makes me feel like I'm the most important person in the universe with a glance across the room (and sometimes even the world). If I'm too sweet and too nice like you once told me, then why I am I the anti-christ and a horrible person most everyday? I slept on the roof of the Texas Theatre one night and tried to remember why I thought you held secrets and I couldn't so I cried and my hands started to clench and I started having spasms in my chest and trying to breathe smoothly but couldn't. I don't mean to be confused or scared or vicious, but I'm constantly being thrown down into this hole of shit and it's becoming harder and harder to resurface.

Fuck you, too, Austin. I hate that you made it hard to look at you and not smile but instead get that fucking lump in my heart and make his scar throb. God, it's almost a year in two months and fuck you so hard I can't believe you're making me sad on happy occasions I want to punch you in the face so hard, Austin. That girl in those pictures doesn't resemble me, why the hell not? Is it because I wasn't on my rocker right, or what? I feel like I'm happy most days, and then I see things that I can't deal with and want to throw up all over my nice sweaters so I just drinkdrinkfuckingdrink and have cigarettes that I promised myself out of.