familiar names.
16 february 1999.
bruise pristine.

everyone seems to be quite tired. tiring life is. i shouldn't complain, which i'm not. i mean, look at cameron. sigh. i love that boy. a lot. i hope i get to see him. but when you run around aimlessly with no end in sight, it almost brings you to the breaking point. if there is one.

how do you know when you're broken? can you break numerous times? i've broken too many times. but perhaps i'm somewhat like quicksilver, mercury, oozing back together eventually. we were born to lose.

the apostles are all calling your name. but your lips are chapped & you're afraid of the wind on the way down. whipper-whipper-whipperwill. every one of us to made to suffer. there's a leaf in my pocket. i'm shuffling with it, poking my fingerprint.

there's a tired boy on the other side. there's a sleeping girl.
there's a melodrama.
we were born.
we begin.
do we stop?

there's a slight flim over the edge of my teeth. i left the cap off too long & the marker has dried out. i'm awaiting a break in my circadian rhythm, for there is no set pattern. i'm waiting for a later shift, a longer hour, a replenished marker. papers flying everywhere. i think i'll close my eyes for a while.

i'm the scream. i warned you. when i flow through your veins, my body constricts & it becomes increasingly hard to breathe. when i slip into your heart, i'm only going to slip out again. if i break a vein to get out, the mess is usually my doing. i should clean it up with a bunched towel. my head is permanently tweaked around a vision of home.

i'm worried about you. i'm constantly thinking about you. i know there's not much i can do but be here & i'm sure you know how powerless that makes me feel. consistantly, i can't solve this problem, keep grappling with the same issue. just get over it. empty the bin & fill it up again. my head is lightweight & heavy with mood. mm. i just want to make it stop. for you. for me.

thank you.

you're welcome.