Sunday, September 19
it's rare that my mom responds in a timely manner to a question I have...she's usually spacing out or preoccupied...I might as not exist.
the tv in the living room keeps going off at random times. maybe it's trying to tell us something. one of these days I wanna shoot at it with some shiny gun of some sort.
.::[Sadder Than Saturday]::.
(Drowningman)
"Wednesday night has always been my night." she said, and no one had the heart to disagree. There was a knife in the drawer....There was blood on the floor and everybody's looking for another way out. I don't want it anymore. Hands all through the window and they're breaking through the frame. It's not what you wanted. It's not what you needed. I'm not what you wanted. Not what you needed. I can't sleep at night. I swear to god I hear your voice outside of the window.
.::[Mail Order Kidney]::.
(Drowningman)
I don't owe you anything. The scars, the skin, the needle pushing in. Pins are pounding, breaking free. I'm already low. Can you send me anything at all. I'm not asking, now I'm telling, bend your pennies to what you're selling. Pins are, all breaking free. I'm already low. It's all scissors and paste. It's learning to wait, through the twisting tongues, through the marks on the lungs. I made my bed already. I won't die. IN this place with the planets, in this piece of the sky. could you let me go softly, could you let me go now? I won't die here.
the tv in the living room keeps going off at random times. maybe it's trying to tell us something. one of these days I wanna shoot at it with some shiny gun of some sort.
.::[Sadder Than Saturday]::.
(Drowningman)
"Wednesday night has always been my night." she said, and no one had the heart to disagree. There was a knife in the drawer....There was blood on the floor and everybody's looking for another way out. I don't want it anymore. Hands all through the window and they're breaking through the frame. It's not what you wanted. It's not what you needed. I'm not what you wanted. Not what you needed. I can't sleep at night. I swear to god I hear your voice outside of the window.
.::[Mail Order Kidney]::.
(Drowningman)
I don't owe you anything. The scars, the skin, the needle pushing in. Pins are pounding, breaking free. I'm already low. Can you send me anything at all. I'm not asking, now I'm telling, bend your pennies to what you're selling. Pins are, all breaking free. I'm already low. It's all scissors and paste. It's learning to wait, through the twisting tongues, through the marks on the lungs. I made my bed already. I won't die. IN this place with the planets, in this piece of the sky. could you let me go softly, could you let me go now? I won't die here.
# posted by Alyssa : 6:02 PM
