Thursday, March 3, 2011


Am I the only one in the world who only thinks of rappers when it comes to rhymes?
They make so much money for it, I would assume that only they are the only ones to make the time.
Perhaps I am biased,
but I feel the highest
when I start to dish these shit rhymes.
I'm sure to the rest of you it seems like I'm committing endless crimes.

I'm supposed to be studying for my algebra final right about now
I will not fail tomorrow, I make a vow.

I have been repeatedly breaking out in to song all day
Everyone else hates it but it gets me feeling rather gay.

I'm not sure the minimum of how short this is allowed to be
if this was it I'd be pretty happy.

It is taking all of my power not to log on to tumblr
the only rhyme for that on rhymezone is humbler;
humble is something that narcissistic people like me don't usually feel.
I wouldn't feel humble if I were the one to invent the wheel.

I'm not really in to this at the moment
now my mom is home and if she comes up here I doubt I'll be able to cogent
that my reasons for writing this while I should be studying for my test are good.
If I get a bad grade she'll kick me out and I'll have to live in a hood.

How much does 10% impact your grade by the way?
A wharf usually built parallel to the shoreline is referred to as a quay.

I hope that you liked it.

She was back to the beginning.

Her heart had been cut still beating from her chest and laid on a gold platter before him - a reaction so totally foreign to her - and yet it still wasn't enough. She had cried and bled until her body had felt drained, but in the end, it didn't change things. The one person who had always been most precious to her, the one she had entrusted with the real her, didn't want her anymore.
It was a lazy autumn day, the kind made for sweaters and bonfires. Instead, she had walked out of her house with nothing more than a tank top, shorts, and sandals, still dressed for those warm summery hours of romance. She had tried to fool her brain into thinking everything was fine, but deep down in the pit of her soul, there was a burning coldness that was growing. It wrenched her gut and made her dizzy, but she pushed forward with what determination remained; she would reach the docks, come hell or high water.

Wind-battered legs tired and nearly crumbled beneath her, but she bit her lip and rolled her shoulders like she was taking punches. Just go with the flow, and the rest would take care of itself.
Life wasn't supposed to be this way, was it? While classmates were busy plotting their college courses and wedding dates, she was researching effective and cheap endings. Why be bothersome, after all. Her dad would be proud.

College wasn't for her, anyway. It was better to remain a free spirit than to become another one of the mindless sheep. If she showed someone the written word, they would go about trying to change her, and it was far too late. She wasn't sure she could be changed...or wanted to be changed. They had already tried medicine, but Bob had called it all bullshit and had refused to pay for it, and taking it turned her into an empty shell of her former self, in any case. She wanted to go out feeling normal, not like some drooling zombie.

What was the point? Life wasn't getting any better. There were no more friends or family. Phoebe spent her days and nights with Gerald and had been doing so since sophomore year. Bob rarely came home from running his empire, and when he did make the occasional appearance, it was to reprimand her for her girlish emotional bullshit eating into his money. Miriam had her AA meetings, yoga, jogging, and whatever new hobby she started that week to keep her from returning to the bottle. Even Olga didn't grace anyone with her presence now that she was in NYC.
And Arnold had Lila...

It was all too painful to deal with. Her body was numb as she threw her locket out into the murky waters. She had always wanted his happiness, but she was kidding herself if she hadn't wanted him to find it with her. If he couldn't, what was the point in pretending? That's what this whole existence had been, and she was very tired. She couldn't put on the mask anymore and act like nothing bothered her. Her strength had all been a ruse, and with that cast aside, there was nothing left except the same lonely, unloved little girl she had been years ago before the game.
She saw him everywhere and in everything. Her eyes would close to save her from the images, but then she'd see him behind the lids. Her ears would hear his voice, calling out lovingly. He wasn't dead, yet he was haunting her.

It hurt to breathe the same air as him, knowing he was inhaling it too.
She had nothing now, not even her writing to save her. One lousy poem was making its way to his grandparents' mailbox.

this aching this pain
driving me insane
eating me away inside
leaving me no place to hide
this feeling won't go away
it just grows stronger every day
i know what i need to do
but i can't stop loving you
i'll have to rid myself of the wicked part
i'll have to cut out my crying heart
burn it burn it burn it oh baby can't you see
i'm putting myself out of my own misery

She knew he'd blame himself, but it wasn't his fault. She couldn't even blame Lila although she wanted to, desperately. She just wanted it to be someone else than her, but it wasn't. It was her own fault for ever thinking he could love her with her flaws. If her own family couldn't love her, then why would anyone else?

She could hear his voice in her head, telling her that people care, and she wanted to smile, to believe his words, but she couldn't. His constant optimism shielded him from the bitter reality of life. If he truly cared, he would have seen the amount of love she had buried within her, just yearning to be shown. Not that it mattered anyway. What was her love worth if someone prettier and more needing could offer him the same thing?

Her feet slipped into the waves, and her legs carried the rest of her. The coldness that had spread throughout her veins mixed with the frigid water, and it didn't feel bad...not bad at all. It was like returning to the icy womb that had created her.

It was an inviting sleep from which she would never have to wake up. Where she could have her dreams to keep her company. Where nothing or no one would ever touch her again. Just a blissful peace.


Listening to: the sounds of failure bubbling up inside

No comments:

Post a Comment