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college notebooks are for poems.

an empty bunk, a corpse girl
forty-five degrees to the left
of within this world.
an empty bunk, and toes curl.
forty-five or so dollars to the negative
but that was last i checked.
running off the heat
that over-powered her cold,
running with broken feet
from the defeat i couldnt hold.
she smoked us both clean into a book
while i ran head first
away from green.
pictures drawn were of a scene
i would guess: us, at our worst.



date?: im guessing early 2010. im guessing march, 2010. im guessing the time when alex came to visit but i was with gretchen, or trying to be anyway, and she was trying to be with nick or trying to pacify her friends (they wanted her to live the straight life) and we were trying to spend less time arguing but we ended up spending more time in the hallway crying and alex spend the whole time in my room, high.

i need to write more about this trip-- her trip down, all the reasons g didnt want to trust me, all the things that made alex rash and hate me, all the people who came in between myself and my sanity. the people i put there. the people i laughed with about all the shit i brewed for myself, the girls i loved who couldnt understand my concept, my lifestyle, of dishing it out but never taking it. i create disaster. disaster is what i'm used to. drama is not what i love but it IS what i know. when things aren't going wrong, i'll find a way to maintain the chaos I cherish and crave. the moments when i'm two feet away from putting me in my own grave are the moments that drive me, the seconds that remind me i'm fucking brave.

truth be told-- im the fucking strongest woman in my whole world. and so yes, i fuck like a dude, talk like a dude, do what i want like a dude. but maybe it's not because i AM a dude, maybe it's society's idea of strength, of self-assurance, of the facade of confidence that is really insecurity, (fear of failure), that are all typical traits of the male gender, traits that i possess without trying, traits that are MINE. i've always been a boy in my mind. i've always thought of myself as a soldier, a fighter; i've always sported a competitive heart and a will strong enough to bend iron bars. i've always wanted to spend all of my time honing in on my skills, making myself stronger, faster, better than the person who beat me last. but this is more than a defense mechanism, more than a survival technique. it's that fear of losing, that fear of failure, that shake-me-to-my-bones, hold-me-close-mom (but she won't, because she can't love herself),god forsaken TERROR, of being alone, a lonely loser. i know when i piss off every potential wife or whatever the fuck, when i write-off every woman who shows interest, even by accident, and find myself alone because i couldnt accept their love, because i could dish it out but not take it, ill be alone, with doors closed and tears stuck in my throat, but i'll still have me. i'll still have everything i've written, every rap i spit and every muscle on my bones. i still know, deep in my mind, deep in my soul, that the only human being i need is me.

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