gag on sequins

no guts to kill me (you couldn't if you tried)

i taste something metallic.

for the first time, I'm not sure its blood.

i think it's rust.

(all i am is rust not the metal itself but the oxidised surface i crumble and chip and i am too obvious to ignore and thus taken care of, yet too unwanted to be saved. i keep all the teeth i've lost in a box. a tooth once jumped out between the gaps in my teeth and fell on a waffle a boy ate, choked on and spat out. mine. mine. mine. that is also in the box.
what is mine? are you mine?

because fuck, you have me begging like some depraved fucking freak. friends don't hurt each other like this. how is it that you probably don't love me, but curse me to others? am i always on your mind? maybe i prefer that to being ignored or fucking forgotten.

best. what is best? there's an ugly poster in my room that my cousin drew. there's a cracked mug bought on my birthday. is it best due to superiority? or because one salvages it? friend. best friend. a fucking joke, i tell you.

no matter how much vitriol i spit internally, i can never till this to anyone, or to you. i think i love you too much.

fuck.)

sweet god, please.

if I feel such maddening pain once more there will be nothing left of me. nothing left to turn into poetry. no pothole left to caulk with cement and no pipe left to fix.

for the first time in a long time, I am not a vessel of rage. i do not think i am a vessel at all infact - for a vessel exists and breathes in a way that is so full of life - its exhale is not one of defeat. I am not a vessel. if anything, i am an occluded pore - my entire being perfused with a visceral ache - and I will turn into a pimple or a nasty blemish tomorrow, if i already have not.

the distinction between rage and sadness is so simple, take it from someone who spent half a day almost puking from the pain. anger stems from the shock of audacity. it is easy to be angry when you expect it. it is easy to be angry when you do not care.

sadness and anger are so dissimilar it is almost laughable. i am rarely sad for i rarely care. sad, it's a funny word really - turns a man into a burlesque of a cracking dam.
190mm × 90 mm × 90 mm. funny how i can recite the dimensions of a brick, but no foundation of a friendship i have ever built has endured.

count how many times i said funny. i don't think you understand. can you hear me cracking? i have given my all, and it is never enough. how am i manipulative? how am i not trustworthy?

why is it
that everyone in this world is allowed to be hurt
except me?
am i supposed to tell them to plunge the knife back in? am i not allowed to feel? sure i'm prickly and not as sweet or naive but do i not deserve love?
you can forgive everyone, except me.
you defend others, but never me.
if it is that easy to leave me, perhaps i must confront the truth that you never loved me as much as i loved you.

i couldn't sleep last night.

when i watched my friend get run over by a car, i didn't eat for days. i was in shock. please, tell me, why is it that i felt that same throb in my chest, when i got the news? how does being abandoned hurt just as much as this?

i think- i think i'm breaking.

god, let the pieces fall where they may. I will come out of this alive.

I have come too far to not.

for the first time, i ask for forgiveness.
(forgive me for who i'll become.)

[not proof read. you make me sick of even writing.]