Wednesday, November 25, 2009

It's A Holiday, So You're Getting 12 Year Old Material

While cleaning my living room in preparation for tonight’s birthday after party, I came across my high school comp notebooks; each lovingly decoupaged with pictures of bands and actors I liked, buzz words (luscious, scorpio, indecent, spy, monster, tingle, etc), and personal illustrations. Inside were barely legible scrawls of depression and bad poetry, spoken word, quotes, and illustrations. Some of them are pretty good for 15 and 16, some need some work, and others are truly embarrassing. In keeping with the oath I gave my sister, I am publishing some of the least horrid for you here today. (Gotta love teen angst!)

[side note: transcribing these was really fun as I wrote all the dates in the European style.]

Here was the girl they “loved”. The girl they had all figured out. Loud and mean, but as soon as they came close to figuring her mind she would change. Metamorphose in into a whole new person. One unlike the other. To confuse and manipulate the minds of the public. And she was hated for it. And she loved that hate as if it were pure love. Because to be hated, to be horribly despised, is to be truly popular. For no one wastes their time hating no one.
It’s cold breathes past my lips.
I flutter my eyes.
Lost in its embraced kiss.
All alone.
The moist grey seeps in
And I am hypnotized by the crisp dawn of death.
The stone is cold.
I stutter my breath.
Our denied future is foretold.
This is alone.
Autumn fingers caress my skin
And I cry through the pain that it brings.
This ground is damp.
I clutter the sky
Dreaming of that one enchanted whore.
We are alone.
The dirt begins to cover my bones
And I’m glad for the peach that it brings.
In me, you see, little pieces of yourself. You break one off and let it grow. I am a clone from one mass god, and you are all his drones.
Here. I am. A lonely shell.
In caverns deep and dark like hell.
It’s cold always and slippery too,
My footings lost
I plunge toward you.
I’m caught in webs of filth and smut.
They’re razor sharp and like to cut.
Small wounds of pain for me to bare,
I’d have hurt them too, it’s only fair.
I fall and fall in silent bliss,
I waited for that unfelt kiss.
I’ve landed on the rocky ground
My ears haven’t heard a single sound.
This is where my falling ends,
My limbs are broken,
But I’ll mend.
My heart was shattered by the fall,
This was no love at all.
So I lie still and wait
And wait,
I’m waiting for a little fate
To guide me from this death marked course,
I cry a little from remorse.
I wait and wait yet no one comes,
I wait and wait until I’m done.
“Blood Petals”
The flowers open and all the blood rushes out.
The buds around it open and blush crimson in response.
The blood pours out.
The first flower turns purple.
Its petals turn back and touch its stem.
The flowers open and bleed red.
The first flower turns black and the blood rushes out.
The engorged petals push against the stem and fall off.
The blood pours out and the petals fall down.
The petals fall down and the flower is no more.
The blood stops rushing.
The petals have all fallen.
The flower is no more.

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