The Mark, The Take, & The Autopsy

I feel like ripping the skin off my back and hanging it on a coat hanger. Ah, wait let me throw my tendons along with it. Let me go ahead and start this decaying process. When being handed a card and the card is friendship, it's a great thing to be able to have a new friend and learn new things.

Until you realize this friend has nothing to teach you, has nothing to give you, except maybe a few laughs, and probably a few lies. Well, then you start to think maybe someone else is trying to push them away from you. Its really help.

Upbeat Baby.

Ever wonder when it's all going to happen? When your fist will ball up and you end up making a fool of yourself? Say the right thing, but always wording it wrong or it comes out as if you had a mild stutter or someone just burned your tongue? It's a fine line between embarrassment and an awkward feeling, but they always join together to end up sweeping me from under my feet. You wish you had remembered that one little thing? You wish you had quick wit and fire?

Everyday I walk in to that office. Same long face, same quiet girl, and the same pathetic sap that just goes straight to work. Hate your co-workers but secretly love one of them and wish you didn't. Wish he didn't even talk to you. At work I'm a completely different person. I guess its a place where I'm not happy so I'm not going to even show emotion just to give you a taste of what mood I'm in when I have to see you fuckers.

Then the next day you have to go to Jury Duty. Why? Can't I just pay you to get out of it? Make it even worse. Then the bills come. Then the friends you once had, but of course screwed them over don't want anything to do with you. I find the humor in manipulation, I find the punch line at the end of a lie. Why can't they?

It seems the lonelier I get (such as hasn't had male attention in YEARS) the worse I get. It might not be that, but its the quickest one I can come up with. So whenever a male pays attention to you.. You feel some sort of relief. I don't even care if you're the ugliest man with the shittiest personality in the world... It's nice. I like attention. I got it from my father.

My father that's a novel to be written. He needs to write a book about himself. He would be the next Hunter S. Thompson. I can see it now in the reviews "John H. carries a certain gonzo-esque in his stories." But my father is a man that should have been famous. But he lucked out. I still want to be just like him in every way. Confident, strong, intelligent, intellectual, OUTGOING, ultimate smart ass, and a fascinating person.

When I grow up I hope to be like my father. He always makes for a great conversation piece.

If someone told a story about me, what would they say? Well I can tell you right away your story is wrong. Everyone gets a different side of me. It depends on what kind of person I think you are so I'll give you that side. Who ever hasn't done that... I promise makes things simple and fun for you because you get to be a new person everyday. Just like dress-up or a fashion show. You come out with a different garment every time and people still love you.

Shit, that might be what you call FAKE. Oh well.

Apologies, might not be my strong point.

I'm sorry for backing down lately. I never use to be like this. Not knowing when to say no or when to cancel correctly. I promise for a change. I wish I knew a better way. But lately my mind has been all over the place... On countless occasions. I am disappointed in myself, and I wish I would stop.

A break in my life. A break of my spine.

My head shakes and ponders. I look down constantly, not only from a lack of self confidence, but from fear and all sorts of feelings of uncertainty. I feel like I'm sitting at the head of a 80 ft table, alone. When the servant comes to bring me my plate its seems to be lacking interest to me. It seems he took a caff stripped it of its skin. Put a rotten peach in its mouth and just handed it to me as if I wanted the carcass to eat. I then have no choice. I have to take it. If I sent it back, god only knows what he would bring to me instead.

I seem to have nothing to care for anymore. The greatest part of feeling numb is that when another blow comes at you, you don't care. You just go with it. Its predictable so you just shrug and walk away. You're so tired of crying at this point.
When you know your life has no turning point, what do you do?
When you only buy material things cause its the only thing that makes you happy, what do you do?
When you sit at your desk at work and feel like the biggest failure and feel like your not even wanted in the world, what do you do?
When you've lost all your friends, what do you do?
When you can't get a hold of your family, what do you do?
When you begin to hate your family, what do you do?

If I had an answer I wouldn't be so pathetic.

FAAAKE.

FACE.

A face is a point in which you stop to watch. You become engaged with this force. You want to take your eyes off of this, but you've never seen anything like it. Such beauty, such intensity, but made of plastic. Hard shells of identity. If I knew how to take off my mask and trade with someones made with peasants hands, made in sweat shops, and loved everywhere. Then I would. But I can't. If you take my mask off you will see a 'Made in China' stamp on the inside of it. Just like everyone else. But the delicate beautiful ones that you see plastered all over the world all over the pages of brainwashing media are not stamped at all. They are too special to dare stamp.

Perfection right in my hands, but I can't steal hers. But I can admire it from behind mine. Boys laugh at mine, make a mocking of it. None of them want a stamped girl. Behind this cell is full of water from constant tears and frustration. My life might shatter but this fucking mask never will. I'm stuck with it, and I wish someone could find it and know they must have it. Another one to add to the collection.

FACE.



ugh. what a fucking waste of thinking. please I stop myself here.

The Girl Made of Cockroaches.

Yes I am made of cockroaches and ash. Its a simple ingredient. Not proud of it, but its better than being made of generic substances. Like whiskey and thongs or cum and hot sauce. I'm glad I'm not those cum guzzling whores. Swallow every inch baby he won't love you anymore than the dog infested with rabies.

Well, I find its easier without you around. Still on my mind, yes. I still have feelings for you and wish I didn't. You make me sick. Thats probably why I like you. Cause I can't stand you. Why? I find myself wanting to hold that barrel against your pretty little jaw. SICK SICK SICK. You're like the blood I cough up after a cigarette. Like a leech that I want to throw into a fire.

People don't please me too often, and when they do I find them sticking around for more than a couple of hours. I only want you around cause you dug that deep to make me fond of you. Thank you. What boring days these have been. What dream filled days these have been. I find my mind is starting to become useless. Since I fill it with peoples idiotcy (yea I made it up) and their cunts and dicks. What is wrong with you people posting obscene pictures of yourself for the world to see? No one wants to see your Gunt while you're trying to lick your tit, or see you shove a sharpie pen up your ass, or you having a threesome with a crack whore and 500 lbs. gorilla. Gain some common sense and dignity.