i'm not saying that i'm a saint.
i am an artist with no trade... a misguided lover humping the ground and expecting it to bloom for me. i leave you notes where you will never find them and i pose for pictures i will never see. i dip my toes into real things and then run screaming when it is too cold for my liking. i want to paint. i want to write. i wish i could dance. i describe myself as intense... and it feels fake. what do i do? brood. and wake up with phrases like "i am an artist with no trade" in my head. i feel like that mythical norm. i walked into a door two days ago... and cut my face.

i'm taking today for me.


no, i will never be a saint.

breathe with me.
when i see your shape outlined in my peephole
i'm glad i decided to bathe and especially glad
i had decided to wear my striped socks and frumpy sweater

the vampires are screaming in my living room
and i let you in without a word

no. that's not true.
i think i punched you and yelled at you for not answering your phone.
i smothered you with kisses while cursing you for making me worry.
my mouth couldn't decide if it wanted to love you or fuck you up
and it decided both could be done simultaneously.

distance between pain and pleasure
fuck fuck fuck fuck.
did i say that seductively? or with hate?

on the screen george clooney is weilding his vampire slaying machine
and i sit on your lap.
i'm not wearing underwear. but you've already noticed.
and for the ten minutes i have with you...
i feed you and then i feed on you.

or maybe i'm always doing both.

george wins in the end.
juliette? she scores a sweet van.

something that bothers me about me.
i need to learn that everyone can and will hurt me when i continue to hurt myself. does this make sense? to me it does. no one is off limits for hurting me when i let myself get fragile and useless. even those that love me most... will hurt me when i start to act like i want to be hurt. i'm making sense little i suppose. but it makes sense to me. i let myself be hurt sometimes. i expect too much... all the time. even when i am getting all that i seem to need... and more... i can still feel hurt. how can that be? so my answer is i must hurt myself somehow. with my demands... my moods... my decisions to let little things mean more than they do.

how do i stop hurting myself?