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Chaotic Good

Does anyone else get nervous they plagiarize through dreams?

We Could’ve Not Missed It

Waking up at every movement you made- my heart would race.

Laying beside me with blankets of darkness and fabric- heated internally.

Any moment waiting for the cue to leave- acting as though it was my planned deed.

Shallow dreaming, hearing things- conscious feeling, you touch me.


We have 2 months-

We have one month-

3 weeks-

Two weeks-

Say you needed me-

Saying I can’t breathe-

I hate this-

2 weeks earlier and life would have paused for me-


 

Waking up to the sound of him in his crib-

You smiling-

Coffee….iced…hot…French press…

With you?

Please….

Forever Please……


 

No one will answer me……..

Suffocated-

Gasping-

Only welcome when entangled with you-

Dilated eyes………

 

 

 

 

Deconstructed Of Someone Else

Ten days until I celebrate and mourn our day where everything fucked up.

How did I make it 32 years without you?

I reach for you like a blanket in hopes to find anything that soothes.

I have tried to birth you again myself through this life.


 

The other day I apologized for considering myself a twin- since you are not here.

They assured me I was indeed “still” a twin- validation gave birth to tears.


 

I want to be myself- But I can’t seem to be myself, Because I have deconstructed and reconstructed myself so much that I am just pieces of someone else.


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’ll Have Two, Without The Other

 

Coming to terms that my mourning will last a lifetime-For a lifetime never had.

Why is it so hard without you here.

I search for you everywhere- I looked in others and empty glasses.

I read words you never wrote- yet my hands did not purge them.

Two beers-two coffees-two please…


 

Two breaths that I can’t breathe- Did you make this asthma in me?

I’ll go to therapy soon- and tell them the most fucked up things about how I keep you with me.

Tattoos cover me- yet nothing ink has changed exorcised you from me.

Is it true- that death is the only cure for our separation?

It is true- that death was the cause for our separation.


 

I found our family- I left them till death.

I was as disposable to them- as you were in death.

Let them mourn- both of us.


 

I sit- in front of a mirror.

I sit- a mirror in my backpack.

I sit- a mirror in my lap.

Yet- I am petrified of broken glass.

Yet- petrified broken of what we represent.


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Coffee Kiss Gas Tank Grip

 

I’m- a coffee flavoured kiss and a gas tank grip.

I am- the late night stout with promise of sleep.

I’m- please listen to this song with me on a couch- please stop I cant handle it.

I am- switching distance and saving nothing.

I’m- making the videos for a select few.

I am- sitting in front of the mirror to touch you.

I’m- forehead against skin and hands not touching.

I am- breathing no better than you. Breathing you.

I’m- swallowing glass to taste the flavour.

I am- nothing here but better nothing there.

I’m- don’t ask and don’t say.

I am- windows down rhythm up.

I’m- leaving myself behind and becoming again.

 

 

 

I Am

The forecast shows a black screen. They say stay, and I scream that moving is coming for me. I am lifetimes ahead of you and it makes me dirty. It is easier to assume your childish nature cheapens the price of me. You’re a three piece suit- I’m tailored from one too many screams. There is never anything beautiful or unique about me.


 

My history should be the textbook I learn from- yet I think I am the missing pages at the end. I can tell I am soon to fall back into books again for escape. I can’t pick and choose my life’s genre- but my favourite stories make it easier to choose my emotions for the day.


 

I have to think that if I were coffee I might be a strong bold flavor- I think the truth is I would just be bitter.

-I am Midnight to 6am.

-I am four drafts and nothing completed in weeks.

-I am broken out and breaking down.

-I am please see me, but let me hide under the sheets.

-I am full of words that wont fill me.

 

Staining My Wood Floor

When it trickles down your leg- you know you’re fucked-

Now the floor has crimson footprints and you wonder why it seems so pretty-

It’s a night filled with messages from the 3 closest people that care about you-

It’s a night of ignoring messages from a fourth-


Where is the strength they speak of-

Why does my force pitter and pattern the wood panels below-


They think me to hurt them-

They wish for it to be so-

They want me to move and break them-

….I can only break myself-

I don’t have it in me to want to cause pain in another-

To do so would feel like a violation of nature- both mine and that of what surrounds me-


You re-birth old lyrics inside me-

Second thoughts at every glance-


I missed some of the stains on the floor-

They are darker this morning-

My coffee is bitter and not even my sweetener calms it-

You made me crave the strong bitter taste that transforms into you-


I want you to dig your needles into me-

Cause your pain to etch me-

Make it an memory and carry it with me-

Make the pain art and seep the fluid beneath my flesh-


 

 

The Movie Would Be Better

 

Ever think- “Damn, this should be a show/movie” ?

Mine should be a book with chapter upon chapter- a movie would only frustrate the fandom that feels it “did no justice to the book ” anyway.

This chapter is multifaceted and tinged with plenty of angst and smutty thoughts- The fandom would love this- I however, Do not.

Every character in this story thinks they are the main character.

Except me- and yet all characters revolve around me.

There are two mains joined with me- and yet one is longer here. Today is our anniversary as it were.   The other is new yet growing.

The third is someone I seek, though they are not responsive- yet?

The last is my catastrophe.


I am not a strong person. Though I hear that spoken to me a lot.

“You’re so strong”….

“You’re a force”…

It is not a bad thing to hear- I should be grateful. -Yet it flows like tar in my body…pulling everything away with my toxins…even my goodness.

I don’t want to be strong. I don’t want to make the right choices- or care about the position I’m directing.


If you take 3 naps a day in addition to sleeping I promise you live a month in a week- a year in a month….and you will fall in love in 13 days.


 

I will forever want to be the person that wanders and drinks coffee in nature…new places…better still old places as someone new.

If you are one of the few that will wonder what parts of this entry are about you-

You missed the point.

 

 

 

 

Layers

Sometimes the human condition can cause the body to retch for release. Nothing is actually wrong. You will not run fevers or have a flu. Nothing could be measured to excuse you from work or class. While you sit there covered in sweat you will start to hate yourself. I have spent hours contemplating how much easier it might be to explain that I have cancer. “I am fine I just have a terminal illness”.- Immediate release will follow from any and all commitments for the foreseeable future. – “Just take care and get some rest”- These words stop coming after a while for someone like me.

The system is meant to dispose of me- It tells me that I am the fault and founder of my issues and -please move because others are more than willing to continue in your place.

I either sleep for 3 hours after hiding in the safe space of night- Or- I sleep for 13 hours and miss every meal for two days.

Honestly, I have considered that I must have the answers inside somewhere. This is my own mind trying to find any reason for the continued existential collapse.

“Fix it. Fix it. Fix it! Now- No…Don’t read another book…stop writing…what the fuck are you doing you are making things worse- NO A NAP IS NOT A GOOD IDEA CLEAN THE FUCKING ROOM THERE ARE ANTS!”

 

I get anxious and laugh because I never realize it until it is a level 9- I currently run on a 6 for my “normal”.

I move- I have moved across country at least 10 times. 1200 Miles is my magic number….nothing ever under 800. (once it was only 3 hours-)

GO-GO-GO

I get this internal itch that makes me jump on my bicycle randomly and ride for 10k like it was a jog around the block.

I go to the gym 4-6 days a week in addition to riding my bike everyday because all this energy is useless -yet it is certain to make me explode if I do not burn it off….it will burn me.

Reading a book will trap me into whatever mood it leads me to for days- No one understands why I am mourning a lover I have never had….I lie.

I play the same song 12 hours for any emotional regularity it might give….

The issue with being so aware- (on any level) is that I wish I wasn’t. It would be easier to “be” if I did not know I was.

At one point in time you quit talking to people at any level above “Hi how are you”?- It is easier to just smile and ask if there is coffee.

I’m sick of myself.

I question when I will live in a way that might not feel so intense. I am not a teen…I am not in my twenties – Why here and now must the thoughts from then grow, evolve, learn new hindering tricks and seep through the coats I wear?

Cheers to more layers.

 

 

 

 

Ripped Into Two-Drowning Alone

What does it mean when you were supposed to be with someone else from birth but it only lasted nine months and birth was their death.

What does it mean years later when you are shaking because you know it is not reality.

No answers- No calls- No options.

“I was born for you”

I wish they had lived- I wish it was not me. I am not strong…I am not the strong one….why was I designated this shit?!?!?!

They could have done so much more with this life than I.

How it feels:

 It feels like I showed up to a party that they invited me to because they knew everyone…but they are late. I am waiting and feeling awkward. They won’t answer their phone or text back. I want to leave the party but I promised I’d come. In reality they were on the way two hours ago and got hit by a semi. I wont know they die until I go home…and I will feel guilty for being upset they did not show.
I can’t stick with anything . I’m not solid…I’m not real…I’m not a person…I don’t have a human part. I am not supposed to be the twin that lived.
 No one else is shaking like this right now.
Maybe I should name them- No one else did.

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