A Collection of Spectacles

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i hope everything comes together.
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i don’t know what i’ve done. shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

yesterday i reached so far inside that something burst. i reached so far inside my psyche that something unexpected happened. we’ll keep it a secret, okay? fair enough.

anyway, my body didn’t like it. it retaliated with an inner cataclym of sorts.

i spoke yesterday with someone about the wonders of teleportation (we wish we could teleport to each other but not at the same time, of course. one of us would end up where the other was and everything would be as it should).

i can’t help it if i’m so excited all the time that i can never sleep.

oh yes, i almost forgot. now people are telling me that they want to mark their time with me because they think that one day i will be known for something. i’ve never cared much for anything i’ve ever written, to be honest.

i have written a lot though. i have stacks and stacks of unwritten books and screenplays. i’ve written so many unfinished ones that i was going to write a screenplay about a girl who never finishes anything she writes but the idea never left my notebook.

i’m trying very hard not to end up like basquiat but such a fate’s inevitable in my mind.

i’d love to make love to man like that. oooopppppsss. i forgot. i’m supposed to bathe such statements in vats full of metaphorical nonsense before i write them down.  and yet my parents can’t understand why i will never let them read anything i’ve written.

i keep hearing the discreet, yet very apparent, hum of things that aren’t exactly there.

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HOW MUCH FOR THE PRETTY GIRL IN THE FLOWER DRESS?

XXX.

MY EYE. my fucking eye. uhhhh. i hate having this infection in my left eye only because i have to wear my glasses which i despise. if i could find my camera i would show you. but i’ve misplaced it at the moment. this weekend is going to be exciting. there’s ashley’s sweet 16 (5 months after the fact) and then i get to see my cousins who i haven’t seen since my aunt decided we were all vile.

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don't freak.

so i lied? not everything’s from my life? see below. i’m an unreliable narrator.

I can’t believe I let myself adore you. Ugh. the ultimate of upsets.

now i realize that every time i spoke to you you only listened because you wanted to screw and when i let you mentally do so you stopped listening to what i said.

Now I am a virtual whore because I think that’s all you want from me. Knowing this, I’ll offer myself rather than lose you.

he lives in louisiana you see so this could never happen in reality but in our virtual personalities he is a nymphomaniac and i am the…

[x] mistress

[x] schoolgirl

[x] toy

(check all that apply)

In some ways I’ve won because he thinks of me even when I’ve forgotten him and, thus, he calls for a scheduled mind fuck at 3:30 (?)

yes i’m free on that date no that’s not a problem.

You see, in our minds we have lived together. WE have watched the best films, listened to the best music, and eaten the best food that pop counter-culture has to offer. We have lived in NY, payed high rent, dealt with assholes, watered indoor plants.

He has reached into every opening invented.

areallybeautifulboybut i wish he would keep it simple because i’m running out of things to talk about i wish he would stop speaking to me from down there.

when i reach inside i’m not just chasing bodily satisfaction i am trying to find my womanhood.

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don’t freak.

so i lied? not everything’s from my life? see below. i’m an unreliable narrator.

I can’t believe I let myself adore you. Ugh. the ultimate of upsets.

now i realize that every time i spoke to you you only listened because you wanted to screw and when i let you mentally do so you stopped listening to what i said.

Now I am a virtual whore because I think that’s all you want from me. Knowing this, I’ll offer myself rather than lose you.

he lives in louisiana you see so this could never happen in reality but in our virtual personalities he is a nymphomaniac and i am the…

[x] mistress

[x] schoolgirl

[x] toy

(check all that apply)

In some ways I’ve won because he thinks of me even when I’ve forgotten him and, thus, he calls for a scheduled mind fuck at 3:30 (?)

yes i’m free on that date no that’s not a problem.

You see, in our minds we have lived together. WE have watched the best films, listened to the best music, and eaten the best food that pop counter-culture has to offer. We have lived in NY, payed high rent, dealt with assholes, watered indoor plants.

He has reached into every opening invented.

areallybeautifulboybut i wish he would keep it simple because i’m running out of things to talk about i wish he would stop speaking to me from down there.

when i reach inside i’m not just chasing bodily satisfaction i am trying to find my womanhood.

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belive it or not, i’m actually telling stories about my life. they just don’t make sense to anyone else. that’s breaking the rules, right? i’m supposed to make it so that everyone understands? if only i gave a damn.

you are wonderful. stop. i’m spilling bullshit. cranking it out from raging hormones. oh my dear your skirts are so short that you should become a professional. dater.

what’s a stream of

consciousness

without a train of thought?

yes or no. she only says yes or no. no (which, in this case, really means yes) what’s the safe word oh my god what is it? no! but…no means yes. so then yes is the safe word? because yes would mean no but no. yes means yes as well.

given: you are a supreme asshole.

prove: we were meant for each other.

in the bathroom. sucking off every portion of y-y-ourrr splended unsheathed orifice.

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I’d like to take the first thing that comes to mind each morning when i wake up and write a poem.

I promise that this will be the most incoherent, random, jumbled form of nonsense you have ever read.

it’s not fair that i can go on the internet and find people that i wish i could meet. it’s not fair. fair. that (eliptical)

i don’t have love. but i really want someone to stick their fingersssss (eliptical) uh.

not fair. not . fair.   . . . . .      .

i want to suck off every inch of your DOT DOT DOT. 

You cannot touch me where i’m not wanted. You. Who is you? I want a “you” so bad but i’ve got an imperfection in my pocket that prevents this.

this morning, i looked deep within me and discovered that i would’ve had twins.
you smell like roses and candy (and a fresh aligation of child molestation).

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hey.

i vow to make this blog like my child. this’ll be a poetry blog but not with all poetry. it’ll be more like the rambling in the beginning stages of my poems. the rambling that occurs before i turn it into poetry.

i should still be studying for finals but i realized that i don’t care. at all.

no love lost. yes? although it’s hard to lose it when you’ve never had it. don’t feel sad for me. i dare you.

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