bananafish and winckelmann

this is probably a work in progress.

you're the seymour to my sybil

"the most beautiful thing

ever to have been created

by human hands."

bless your father for fondling your mother. 

and coming up with you!

kiss the arches of my feet

and let's not leave the beach today. 

or ever. 

compare contrast, bipolar.

You,
I've never hated someone so much,
I want to die on your front steps,
and leave a trail of blood and such,
and tell your mom your secrets.

But you,
I want to write you songs,
and push you on  swing sets.
Or parallel park, so you don't have to,
And buy you lots of flowers.

And back to you,
I wish you the worst,
and hell, and a gas shower.

As for you and your pretty face,
I wish you'd sit and pose
so I could draw your pretty face
and tie it with a bow.

You, you suck
Your time has come
to jump into a river
all tied up
and bound and gagged
while vultures devour you liver.

And me and you will sing and dance,
and buy ourselves a sheep
and build a cake
and play kazoos
and smile until we sleep.

And when you sleep
I hope you never dream,
just think of ghastly nightmares
and torturing, ghastly, screams.

While we will sleep so pleasantly.
On clouds of love and clovers.

And you will watch me die and bleed
on your floor, over and over.

And we'll walk down some aisle someday,
and I'll invite your mom.
And everything will just suck for you
broke, sick, shit, disease and despair, and Vietnam.

You and I will shine our shoes
and braid each other's hair
and drink and talk about
how wonderful it is
when life, it turns out fair.

'Cause you'll be in a sorry state,
with your sorry job,
and your sorry mate,
and it'll be dark and bleak and
we'll never speak.

Until one day you see us
at an estate.
You'll say I look pretty
and I'll say
I hate you.

Things you cut.

wanted to write a pretty poem tonight, but this came out instead.

i've cut class

and i've cut my veins

i've cut paper

and animal remains

i've cut into wood

and cut into glass

i've cut up some drugs

and i've cut the grass

i've cut my legs shaving

i've cut them free will

i've cut up grapefruits

i've cut up the bills

i've cut costs

taken short cuts

and cut off my hair

i've cut food to cook

and i've cut to prepare

i've cut in line

and i've cut people off

i've cut in, cut it out

and cut down on stuff

but no cut has ever hurt quite as badly

as hearing you're cutting ties

with me

(and not sadly).

I wonder.

Do you think it's possible to care about someone that doesn't really exist in one's life?  I am not talking about thinking Ash Ketchem or Captain Planet is dreamy. It's more like this.

You exist.  Somewhere on this planet, someone else exists. And you love them relentlessly, though you have never officially met and intended on being in love.  I guess it's another way of saying that soul mates might exist.  However I think soul mates have one another, where I am implying that this is a one sided love.  

Perhaps this is the formula for a crush.  This person exists who you have never officially intended on loving, or perhaps even met. 

What a concept. 

I am suddenly realizing that friendships are hard to come by. Many of my relationships are not real, and it has saddened me greatly over the last few days. I struggle to see the point in maintaining relationships that are one-sided, superficial, sexually-based, need-based, or prolonging something that has never existed.  I was never a very good girl scout. 

I really don't think anyone reads this, so I might as well post a link to my website, without fear that anyone will spam me. 

aliuraskyart.com