What’s on my mind at the moment…

I yearn to give too much, or be accepted. Or be good enough so that y’all can say you felt it. What I do, what I bring, what I write, to be above the rest. To have a certain height of speciality that’ll separate me. Not sure what drives this urge to be the best, but I know it’ll kill me with expectancy. I want to be noticed, to be the one you hold as, phenomenal…woman, what Maya told me in her bird cage of solemnity, songs that were sung out in looong stanzas and mantras of what I’m trying to be. Phenomenal woman? Is that me? Can’t even get a muthafuckin job to pay my cell phone bill, that’s reality. Can’t even look at my mom without thinking my birth was the defect causing her to be ill, my mortality. Looking at days that are drawn out drunk with memory. Heart is confused with the ‘I just don’t know what to do’s’ that fuckin annoy me, so I’ll ignore me.

*pushin ctrl, atl*
*delete*
*delete*

Damn….nothing ever works for or against me.

Time slippin…
Time tickin…
Madness…it’s all insanity coming to…
I don’t even know…I’m neurotic to the brim.

Shivering: I hate to log onto this place. Because sometimes I feel like some of y’all just don’t receive me, or understand me, or don’t bother to check for me. I don’t wanna seem ungrateful, but sometimes I wonder why I’m even here if y’all can’t even see me.

It used to be a place where I could be near…him. I suppose, close to him. Somehow in the distance that separates us. And I feel like the idiot still holding onto feelings that he threw away so easily…so easily…

He said he loved me.

Bullshit.

Love doesn’t dissipate in a couple of days…
Or melt off your heart when her jazzy fat nastee tunes are played…

Played…staged, I’ve been duped.
For a crooner that sooner than quick replaced me and your
Passion fix…
Her voice and her face is the taste that makes you lick your lips.

I used to do that shit.

And you know it.
You loved it…relished in it. Still hear your moans and groans at 4am…weeknights.
Weekends were more in the morning time 7 or 8.
For goodness sake you could talk mounds of dirty things to me.
Just for a good nut.

*sigh* I think I miss our phone fucks…more than I miss you.

________________

"I created hurtful in a matter on seconds that fly…
I never saw the futile.
But it curled right up to me and kissed my destiny,
Waiting, lurking in provisions promises…
Ready to erase me and my addiction to diction…
Reality only here when it’s missing…"
-Revolt