- - Friday, February 05, 2010 It's a sickening, creeping feeling Looking in the school's dirt-speckled bathroom mirror First thing in the morning. And then so wishing you hadn't. It would have been a much pleasanter day [Or at least morning] [Because you're not actually depressed] And that's as long as the feeling lasts. The cold is creeping reddish into your nose Bloodying your eyes, Emaciating blackened bags, from tired to sick. Tortured young ladies, primping self-consciously Gobs of make-up under eyes which stayed up late Crying Or thinking Or stinging with heated stress. Time is half in what is allowed, and Apportioned in your mind. When you focus on one thing It's almost as though the other slips away Into the lost, brisk winds of what could have been. Afternoon mirror checks are slightly better, But you find yourself seeking your face in someone else's eyes Far too often Not to worry about worry. Through smudged reflections And willowy self-seeking shadows We all need a happy place. Other than likenesses smothered In averted, starry eyes. No matter how powerfully his glance Smacks you every time Like a shot of 151 Or warm, tingling chills after your first taste of whiskey [God, it smells like rubbing alcohol] You're a lightweight And a sip goes far. And you can't see anything, either in his coal-black, inscrutable eyes Or in your cup of gin.

posted by Kick-butt soccer star @ 9:06 PM 1 Comments: At 5:25 PM,  Ruthie said... flaahhh, you need to post moore kamsie! very real, but it feels choppier than your typical stuff...is it supposed to be more of a stream of consciousness? "we all need a happy place, other than likenesses smothered in averted, starry eyes" mmm. soo good. i miss you!   Post a Comment << Home