i am hurting so bad

from the inside-->out

& my life is always packed up

in cardboard boxes

& i hate being the

go-go-girl-on-the-run

spinning away [& down] from

everything & everyone

who ever cared.

i hate having my life

written on random pieces of

ruled paper

carried in notebooks

[[why would i need record of

my constant suffering?]]

that's all my life is

& no matter how you read my words

forwards or backwards or upside down

the end result is the same.

a tired.scared.girl who is unhappy

with her hand of cards

but too fucking scared

to do anything about it.

everytime i see people admiring roses

i want to shout

because i am just a rose who's thorns number so great that nobody wants to pick me up & admire my beauty anymore.

& i will blame it on you

& him & her & them & us.

never me.

because

i

don't

know

me

anymore.

<3<3<3

--lockup: tomorrow

if you really want to read more

of my babble

gbook/note/email always available.

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