commit-ment:

so obsessed with this trailer, never been so obsessed with a trailer.

---

commitment.
commit-ment.
ambivalence clouds the ability for conformity,
the virtue of devotion is questioned,
mocked is loyalty, of which was famed.
such, in society today, is distorted, twisted:
entrapment, mundanity, conservative.
a choice to commit
or commitment to choice?

the disregard of commitment
in the pursuit of commit-ment,
we find ourselves lost:
commit-ment
committed.

memory:

memory:

transfixed,

transgressed,

entrapped,

trapped.

me-mory,

catacombs,

cataclysmic,

entrapped,

trapped.

nothing:

i cannot write when i am feeling

nothing,

just nothing.

so i'll write about feeling nothing.

---

bouts of anxiety
interspersed with confusion --
disillusionment.

erratic, formless thoughts,
cloud these emotions.

emotions,
emotions-less,
emotionless.

in a second i am nothing.

knowing:

if only you knew
the pain she was going through;
mind infected with the lull of illusive voices,
scars stowed beneath layers of loose clothing,
organs heaving to support a system caked white with chalk

then perhaps you’d know
that beneath this nonchalant, stolid facade
hides a scared girl unaccustomed
to death.

death:
is what she’ll be if
no one is going to save her.

but no one can save her,
because no one knows.

no one cares.

im(mortal)

Arches pulled at the skin on her back, as though threatening to rip it apart if they were trapped any longer. Desperate fingernails scrawled till porcelain skin turned into red marks and into tiny droplets of blood; she was trying to free them!
But alas, nothing was happening, nothing was working, for the wings she thought were growing were merely tired bones and broken joints. In the second she realized her foolishness, her body slumped into the floor like a pool of water. Her disillusion was drowning her.
She realized her foolishness when epiphany struck her like free-falling without a parachute: she was nothing more but a mortal confined within the cages of the earth.
She was trapped, and there was nothing that could set her free.

hi, i like you:

hi, i like you, but you don't. or at least i think you don't. i don't know. but i like you somatically more than i like you emotionally. you behave like a stick, i'm sorry, there's nothing deep about that, and it's probably an arts thing for me to think of you this way. i still like you though, despite your shameless lasciviousness and all your endeavors to satisfy it, probably the most seeing how i know more about you and you know more about me.

hi, i like you, but you're attached... and that kind of sucks. but still, you're gorgeous. and smart too. that's pretty cool; being smart and gorgeous and all. breaking relationships is socially-wrong, so there's that.

hi, i like you, but i don't know you that well, actually i barely know you. but the stories i've heard about you kind of suck, though i try not to listen to them. you seem pretty amicable, plus you look good. that's nice.

hi, i like you, but you probably don't know i exist at all. you are hot, seriously, hottest i've ever known. attractive on so many levels. shit, i wanna know you. if only.

hello, liking someone is more exhausting than i thought it would be.

whisky:

love-hate this photo.

---

all i wanna do is write all day long.

but i can't, ugh.

exams, please end soon!

that will be, November.

fuck:

insecurities

tear your soul apart

like razor blades

to an ice-cold wrist

they prise and dig,

hungry for blood.

they don't stop 

until there is nothing

left to drain

dry

it's too late

cos' they're all broken,

the glass of dreams

and bottle of hope;

they're all gone

and shattered

the time has passed

the love is over.

you can't fight fate.

AllSaints: all awesome.

here we are:

hungry?

(we ordered lots more btw)

oh, and i had it with these awesome people:

and then we watched Rise of Planet of the Apes and it was actually good (though the poster just needs some changing, really)! 

---

She scratched red marks on her shoulder blades as if her nails sowed the seeds for wings. Scars skin deep, cuts. Her skin stretched ever so slightly, you could almost spot a feather harvesting in those shoulder blades. One morning, she’d wake up with a warm sweat. Blood painted her bed sheets in an outward motion. An angel in her sleep, being tortured to awaken in her body’s red wine into the first world.

-Gabrielle Quiwa

genius.

sometime around midnight:

Of the curl of your bodies,
like two perfect circles entwined.
And you feel hopeless and homeless
and lost in the haze of the wine.

pain(less):

let the stars burn out and crumble into dust. when the rain keeps pouring like the tears from your weary eyes, and your body trembles with the pounding of your heart with thoughts that plague your mind and threaten to tear your soul apart. you lie awake with a war inside your head while the world sleeps in silent oblivion through your darkest days. your pain rages to escape but your lips give nothing away but the sighs of the dead and the cries of the agonized. you are alone in the midst of the battlefield numbed by despair.


you think there is nothing left for you,
and so you take your life.