all I can say is that I wish all conflicts in life were resolved with laser tag

I love you john campbell.



To extrapolate, he's the maker of pictures for sad children, and peeerrr-tea damn amazing. I have been reading that comic since it began and enjoy it throughly. (hinthintwinkwink, you should too.)


Besides all that, I have been hurting. (No, not like that.) Just a dull ache in my chest. I had a heart, and it's now a pound of lead. Seizing up all my blood. But it's okay. I promise. It's not like I'm dying or anything. It's not for any reason you might think of either, (well okay maybe you can, but it's probably not what you thought of first.) I am simply worn down. Wasted and wistful. Still happy to be alive though, still laughing and smiling and being twirled around in those awkward too-friendly hugs that you look forward too but wish would end as soon as they began. I find joy in all the same things, sing at the same times, drag my pencil across paper in the same familiar shapes and lines. A person! A tree! Circles and squares and shapes with no names. It's so peaceful to draw.

the handsomest drowned man in the world

i feel sad and upset and deliciously happy
all in a million trillion billion ways
i cannot think
i cannot breathe
i cannot anything
but smile



"he was a handsome man
and what I want to know is
how do you like your blue-eyed boy
Mister Death"

don't let the pidgeon drive the bus

Though she's ten years younger.
She's not like me,
Too fair haired, with a smaller forehead.
Darker eyes and a charm that only children have.
So bright, so smart.
Just as tall as her brother too! (well... almost.)
I assure you, go on, ask her.
She has logic that makes perfect sense.
With hands that will soon be too big,
are too big,
Too hold hands with old unwanted me.
So much bigger and shinier than everyone.
This sister of mine.

---

She's not my daughter, but still I feel like she is. A mother and a sister and a friend, my heart still swells when she reads. So perfect, stumbling less and less, till she's practically shouting. But no, it's... it's more like singing. I can only sit and think, maybe I was like her once.

if i had it would you want it?

Drag me down, down down down.
Let me meet the center of the earth.
Upon her molten chair.
Let me feel the crushing weight of the world
Cracking my ribs all the wrong way.
Let me sing till my throat slams shut,
And my lungs are clogged.
Let all my organs burst with the greatest of ease.
While I laugh like I don't care.
Just let me die happy.


Oh darling, I think I'm dying. Things are funny when you want them really badly.
I wonder, what you're thinking when I'm all messed up.
It's not because of you, or rather it is.
But not really.

.

My heart hurts in a million ways
and all of them are for you.
All of them
are for love.

~~~

I wont be able to blog much during summer.
I have work.
Soooooo
Not much free time.