Scribles in My Notebook:

A sinking feeling.
Tears
that refuse to fall.
Detached from the world.
Just wandering around,
long, long face; dark eyes, so round.

s
t
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l
o
n
l
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e
s
s
s
s
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w
h
y

a
m

i

a
l
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n
e
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A single candle flame, a single flicker
Doused now; it's not there anymore
Nobody's home
again
n
n
n.
.
.

No other life in the room,
in the house. Tiny, tiny room gets tinier every day.
suffocating
no one's in here.
no one ever has been.
just machines to divert.
that is all, all i do.
this cage, fucking reason.
The garden is dead.
Dead. Dead. Dead.
I have no real problems.
Just a damaged head.
It's really nothing, just petty suffering.
Why
am I so
pathetic. really.
The tree branches crackle, like a final boss stage.
Purple fucking sky. Goddamn bushes.
Oh, look at me, I am loved because I curse, because I smoke, because I sniff; isn't that hardcore?
I dye my hair like trailer trash, ridiculous eyeliner like I just learned how to use it.
aeropostale shirt, giant godamn sweatpants, boyfriend's jacket, giant cheap ring.
im blank, i follow your ideas. i agree with whatever in contradicting reason.
ha ha, unquestioned faith. you're ridiculous mind, ridiculous.

You're home alone,
Or your parents are sleeping,
and your brother is out,
and you're friends can't talk now
or don't answer their phones.
Tiny breaths, tiny, shaking, and white. dusty.
everything. stuck in the past.
Falling out
for a moment,
a very, very long breath.
You can't sleep.
Clutch your head,
you pathetic wretch.
no reason to.
no reason at all.
no reason.
stop playing it up.
stop crying.
stop.
stop making excuses.
you're not worth a dime.
Write those words in blood,
carve them onto flesh, just to see them.
Wishes: IT'LL BE ALRIGHT,
and scraps of words: tired, sad, find me..., i want to go, ...allegro agitato...
Getting older.
Your body
becoming stiff, shrinking and wilting.
Alone, forgetting to blink.
Not caring.
A roaring headache that you made up.
Losing my structure.
song lyrics, because i can't write my own.
polar bears keep me warm
in the lost penguin winter.
notes, notes, notes, margin.
where does all that pointlessness lead you?
to more work. more money, but so much goddamn work.
according to a book that i read in sixth grade,
dolphin's songs last for hours,
like me, like this thing.
nothing better to do, there never is.
being redundant.
repeating myself.
constant loop.
repeat: one.
sleep: 30 mins.
all songs.
scroll.
play and close eyes.
repeat.

Fall asleep without realizing it.
dream a ludicrous dream, and wake up.
hope and mild humor get crushed by mom's yelling,
by long, droning hours
of silence.
by the time you see your friends
youve already faded out of the day.
just go home and sleep.
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