A little less, a little more.
You said.
Like that sock, that just lays there on my floor, dirty. forgotten.
Like the crumpled up poem, that still resides in the pocket of my "sexy jeans" because I couldn't be bothered to agonize over keystrokes.
Now they are both in the wash.
You do not operate under pantheism.
The world is not your god.
you have no god. (ess)
Spiders.
They scuttle, and crawl, and try to spin beautiful silk webs.
They usually end up squished.
Dead.
Sucked up by a vacuum.
Their webs lay in tatters, destroyed.
Lots of things are destroyed. Or should I say erased?
love,
diary pages,
lies,
memories,
pictures,
poems,
mis-spelt words,
truths,
human beings.
i am a sadist. for indulging in this. laughing maniacally. enjoying imagined pain. playing god. inciting anger. being a heartless bitch. being cold. being resentful. being me.
you always were bad at guessing games.
you never were anything you said you were.
you never kept a single word you said.
you never cared.
no matter how many times you lay on my closet floor,
and examined.
the innumerable dust particles.
Author notes
didn't mean to write about you ever again.
felt like being mad and hurtful back ^_^.
missing the other poem that went in the wash with my jeans.
praying it comes out intact.
Be brutal.
Comments
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I. Always. Cared.
But I never knew what I was.
A little less pain, a little more frustration.
And anger never loved me.
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