||[Nov. 27th, 2014|10:45 pm]
freewrites, dreams, memories...
It's not as if you're the first person who had their heart broken.|
It's not as if you're the first person who spewed
the contents of their broken hopes
in an ungainly sprawl against the unforgiving white
of the computer screen.
Half your words
are trite and
than your mother's sponge cake.
crying into the stuffiness
of your favourite blanket
(so favourite it's gone unwashed for three months, Christ's sake, sister. Don't you have no hygiene?)
and your heart constricts against the
white bones of your ribcage
and you think
"fuck everybody I'm out of love I'm in pain oh god I'm going to be so lonely so lonely sO LONELY"
and half your tweets are rife with
regret anger regret anger regret anger.
Fuck's sake, sister.
Aren't you tired?
"no," screech you, your lips dry from too much red lipstick
"i'm not sad enough, i'm gonna be sad enough to fill up a whale's belly so
Monsoon season's passing by soon, but
the tears drooling from the corners of your red eyes
will send the streets panicking hordes again.
Write your little shrivelled heart out,
the sun will come again.
learn how to swim.