Don’t @ Me So listen Kid, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Really I love people. But I get the feeling you’re digging here. Maybe you are just like that. You need to know what makes people’s gears run, need to fling open closet doors to find piles of femurs and skulls. Sadly, You are late to the party – so late that you done missed cake and all. You might find a couple crumbs, but we’ve all done burned […]
I pushed back through writing, through cutting, through honed and brash sarcasm. I pushed back hard and gave better insults than I received. I hated high school and all the polo-wearing honor tribes. There were only a handful of us in my school – the people who listened to The Smiths, The Cure, Joy Division and recognized the secret, sullen pathos under the veneer of shiny happy peers. There was love and understanding among us. We all created something. This was my happy. Even the cuts on my arms were part of that daily process of creating – of literally opening up. And as a lifelong vampire fan, I felt at emotionally at home.
Your self-engorged mythos swallowing my air
Your poison raising my blood
Awakening, my eyes were opened and I saw clear
So clear as the new moon wrapped herself in black velvet clouds
Translucent wings unfolding from your shoulders
That kiss swung open the door to return home and leave my Paris. That kiss was the gateway to all that awaited me in my life and everything yet to come. And still, despite age and the demands of an every day, I am still that girl.
The worst thing though – the WORST – is when you do one thing wrong. Or not even really wrong but just shy of correct. It doesn’t matter when or why or how, it never goes away. It’s dog pee on a white silk couch. It’s the model who shaved her eyebrows and drew them on with a Sharpie. It’s Mickey Rourke’s face after his boxing career. And I love Mickey Rourke, but damn.