How Am I Going To Get By How Am I Going To Pay For So And So What Am I Going To Do On My Spare Time So

Off to sleep

When I close my eyes to look for sleep’s touch, I think of you.

I think of how our fingertips brushed

How much it meant to me, how little it meant to you. 

I hear your breath laughing in my ear at some joke I didn’t say,

but I wish I did. 

I remember all of the time we spend together,

even if you don’t. 

I can still see all of the little notes you left on my desk

which I wish I kept not just in my heart, but in my hand as well. 

It is all so comforting, as I drift away.  

Just to know you are in my life. 

Even if you are not mine. 

our last summer on the river

The air smelled sweet, of growing green

And flowers bloomed, their beauty serene

Birds chirped, as if on cue

As we dived into waters blue

The water ran with ease and grace,

A world so still and full of place.

As we grew up, we came of age,

Our path ahead, a turning page.

Our hearts would race with each new thought,

The tides of life we'd brave and sought.

And as we witnessed the river flow,

We found ourselves with more to know.

Through twists and turns, our stories formed,

A tale of love and life adorned.

As dreams took shape and hearts were won,

The summer's light had just begun.

On that river's edge, we found our way,

Our lives transformed with each new day.

And though we'd soon be far apart,

The memories etched within our heart.

Our summer days, we'll treasure long,

For in its embrace, we grew strong,

And as we bid farewell to our youth,

We'll always know, our bond is the truth.

her loud ass is always screaming 🙄🙄

I can almost hear her say that

explode

I am afraid of so much.

Of getting older.

Of change.

Of moving on.

Of sleep.

Of school.

Of never finding love.

Of routine.

Of the fact that my friends probably don’t love me.

Of failure.

Of loss. 

Of me. 

My collection of fears has grown so large, that my brain has become a museum for them.

Stuffed to the brim.

But new fears continue to be added to my collection everyday. 

I wonder to myself, in a whisper of thought, “Will I have enough space?” 

Or will my brain overflow and explode. 

That is my greatest fear.

Explosion. 

in the pilot jackie teases shauna abt her “catholic phase” and to that shauna responds that she liked the saints bc she thought they were “so tragic”. in the last ep of s1 during their fight the first insult shauna calls jackie is tragic. she calls her other things too but its so intresting that the first thing she thinks of is tragic. to me thats like a freudian slip. jackie was shaunas saint.

Joan Baez performing I Never Will Marry, c. 1958

I saw her sitting on the shoreline by the sea collecting small shards of light that sparkled in infinity, tiny twinkles that flickered in my eyes, and set the sweet night sky a light.

Her gown looked like a thin veil of fog with little fireflies floating about shrinking and growing while glowing then blinking out. Her hair was adorned with a fresh multi-colored crown of flowers intertwined with thin shifting vines that seem to be alive.

A cousin to the creatures a buzzing, childlike being with transparent wing fluttering, while thin limbs orchestrated the music mother nature layered, sounds of clicking critters, and rhythmic raindrops, with winds whooshing through the leaves and I could just barely see the silhouette of other fair folk and their family moving in unity, obscured by the beauty of mother nature’s natural graces.

Twas a night of strange delights, and I was drunk with awe from what I saw, until with a panicked thrill I witnessed the night succumbing to the burning sun’s unrelenting hunger as it devoured the eve’s softness and replaced it with heated harshness.

All that was mythic and mystical left and in its stead the mundane came to claim my befuddled mortal brain.

-2023

here and now

Here and now I stand still.

Wind bends around my cheeks.

The earth is still yet somehow I move at a million miles an hour.

(yet my feet never leave the place they are rooted )

Life is frozen in time, yet everyone I know is fifteen years into the future.

My life is groundhog’s day, except that i can't get out. 

Trust me, I've tried.

Air doesn't fill my lungs the same way anymore.

Have I overstayed my welcome?

Where do I belong?

Who do I have?

I have nobody.

I trust nobody, yet I love so many.

I think that there are people who say they love me out of pity.

I miss having someone I could call and spill my tainted blood to.

All the lies I've told.

All of the thoughts that have fought their way from the pits of my stomach to my lips.

Poisoned by my own voice

Betrayed by my own truth.

A cycle of apology and transgression.

Here and now, I come to a close.

The Conflict of Guinevere