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[08 Feb 2010|12:24pm] |
you know those UFO rides at amusement parks? you stand against the wall and they spin around so fast you stick to the sides. and they make you want to throw up, but you continue to ride. you almost test yourself- "how many times can i tell myself this ride is really really great until i vomit all over myself?"
he's my UFO.
he's been my UFO for a long time.
i always come back. even after i get sick. i just can't stop.
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[02 Feb 2010|12:50am] |
I'm completely drained of fluid
eyes are puffy and glazed over
and seven hours straight is a new record
But don't think I didn't notice when you brushed a hot tear from my face
and hesitated to hug me
I'm the same way
I will text you on my birthday. I will tell you everything.
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[31 Jan 2010|03:55pm] |
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The longer you let me sit in my shell, the harder it becomes and the tougher it is to break into it. Come and get me.
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[29 Jan 2010|12:00pm] |
drugs, I need drugs
it's the closest I can come to killing myself
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[28 Jan 2010|03:25am] |
It all went downhill after they stopped playing Roseanne reruns at 2am.
Everybody knows I hate Bill Cosby.
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[28 Jan 2010|12:04am] |
You embarrassed me.
I have learned my lesson.
For the 53rd time.
How many more times must I learn it?
How many more times will you cry wolf?
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[27 Jan 2010|09:58pm] |
What good am I to anyone like this?
It's been a hard couple months, I'll admit
After tonight I'm not so convinced that I'm wrong
I feel at ease with my lows, and I'll take it
Lord knows I'll take it
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[26 Jan 2010|12:59am] |
Your beauty can't be covered by insecurity
I hope the same truth would still hold true for me
'Cause I drowned in mine
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[24 Jan 2010|03:35pm] |
All I know is love is a means to an end
All I know is I'm willing to pretend
All I know is we're here and it's now and we're in the mood
So if love's the word you choose, I'll scream out whatever you want me to
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[05 Jan 2010|01:59am] |
My voice sounds delicious and nasally when I'm sick.
Record an album?
Don't mind if I do!
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[03 Jan 2010|02:21pm] |
I fear I'm doing it again.
I need you every minute of my day.
And when you're not here, I find other ways to be with you..
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[29 Dec 2009|02:57pm] |
Dear Myspace,
This is the first time in a long time I've let myself "relax" since it is a holiday, and I'm going to take this opportunity to give you a booty call since you are sloppier than Facebook and that's why I like you a little better. I like sloppy websites. you keep my secrets hidden well since this isn't shoved in anyone's face in a news feed on a homepage, people have to actually make the conscious decision to click on the retarded name of this bulletin, and no one will click on it anyonway thanks to your new homepage layout and also the fact that only people in high school use you anymore.
I just wanted to say hi since you are th e social networking site my parents are not on and I really miss all of the dirty sex and smoking buddies I've found through you an dthe one guy in that band with the tiny, tiny penis that is the size of my dog's, maybe smaller, and is a nice anecdote to tell new men to make them feel better about themselves.
But anyway, I ;m just talking to you dear myspace beause it's christmas and I'm lonely and all of my booty calls are out of state and I really really miss orlando because I could walk around my complex and visit that weird guy I gave an eighth to and tal kto him because any penis is better than no penis
I wish you had a penis, myspace.
best regards and hope you have better luck in the new year. If you want i can spread rumors that Facebook has aids and twitter is a hermaphrodite. Because you really were my favorite.
love,
Candi
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[28 Dec 2009|04:09am] |
I wish I could stop being jealous.
If I could just know what it's like to be loved, to be fussed over, to be the object of someone's interest, I could let go and stop fighting other women for a man. Women who have no interest in them, have boyfriends. I still get jealous. It's like I need all of the attention because I'm too single and have been too single for far too long. It's not fair that I don't have a boyfriend; I would do anything for him. Look at me, listen to me, talk to me. I'm interesting. I'm curious. I have a sex drive you couldn't even begin to contain, and I just want someone to hold if only for one night.
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[11 Dec 2009|11:15pm] |
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I would love to start a band that is a cross between Ryan Adams and Manchester Orchestra with a hint of Death Cab and a pinch of Say Anything.
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[08 Dec 2009|11:57pm] |
I remember the first time you came into my bedroom. The bed was turned the other way, I can't quite picture it now. And my guitars were right next to it, under the window. You picked one up and played me a song, forgetting the words in between chords. And I wanted to lean in to kiss you, but you asked me if he beat me, and heavy subjects are not exactly foreplay. You were just trying to be a nice guy. I don't know any nice guys. So we had an awkward silence, and I thought you would. Lean in, that is. But my father walked by and said goodnight. And I was hung up on daddy issues, reliving the fact that every man that ever touched me didn't deserve to. And were you one of them. Were you one of them? And uncertainty causes distance. And the distance became minutes. Then days. Then months.
And here we are.
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[02 Dec 2009|11:23pm] |
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I keep seeing my laundry basket on TV.
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[29 Nov 2009|11:04pm] |
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When we spoke, no joke, I started shedding slutty boys like snakeskin / My collection acquired through shallow misdirection / And as I drive tonight, west coast sky daring me to try / I feel alive tonight, the possibility that you're my guy
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[28 Nov 2009|01:01pm] |
I had a dream we did drugs, real drugs, and it felt so good
and I want to feel good
like a drifter, like a floater, like a sex-starved catalouge model
Dream in my hazy world and let you in it between doses
and wake up on black leather couches, keyboards, worry my dad will know
that I am a still a teenager.
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[05 Nov 2009|11:28pm] |
My chest is falling apart
I can't see, I can't think, I can't feel anything
but pain.
Everything I've done
for the past 6 months
is worthless, meaningless
useless.
I could write more broken words, but I am Jack Kerouac and I need a drink.
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