Monday, April 22, 2013

ophelia

ophelia'opehial,opal"open, orange>own up-donut, do not trust me; you'll see' lucy in the sky;;juicy fruti disguise'sunrise,surprise,surplus;surface''''rufus wainright.daynight;staynalive> pain is life;wrongorright::orangatang;/ orange tan""orange'open.opal\\|opehial<>ophelia

some notes from being high

THD NUMBER25 IS HAUNTING ME I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOF


hello porcupine
you think I'm high but I need more
"let's live free and easy man"
it's quiet on your side
i can smell nicotine through the phone
i can hear you pouring more wine
"the living room is such a mess"
bobby pins feel foreign
I thought the Apocalypse happened tonight
in a fit of stoned-ed-ness
I have the itch
I'm not running low
enough for a while
my skin hurts
this music is insane
it got dark out
I  want to be hideous
I want hairy armpits and my septum pierced
I want people to question me
I want to be in the 90's
why arent i a goddess
i need more



what if all this is is isness and all it isnt is wasness or shineyness????????





I burrowed



I burrowed-like a root-between days
Between the seasons, I've hidden
I’m in the pause, I’m in the afterwards
I’m the blank page

I've climbed inside your glass of brandy
I’m the black speck on the side
I am nearly nothingness
And yet you feel me

Maybe more so the ice cube you left in the glass
Or the wrapper from your straw
Or the eyelash that couldn't hold on
A bottle cap you thought was a coin in the dark

I’m too thin
I haven’t got enuff nuffness
When I was tiny, mommy wouldn't even hold my hand
It was too clammy

And I’m too clammy
I’m not polished enough
I climb inside jars to hide
Because mommy makes me nervous

 I’m the ash clinging to your cigarette
The road off the road on your map
The smoothed away wrinkle in a dress
So much the frame and not the picture
  
I hid behind the register
And stole four pennies
I hid behind the dryer
And ate all the marshmallows from the lucky charms

 I’m barely an acorn or a dried leaf
I’m barely a fizzle in a soda
I could almost be a ball of lint
If I came from sweaters, not sin

I’m just below the surface
I’m the yellow stain
I’m further than tomorrow
I’m yesterdays