to ages for forsaken attentions,
and i'd take but never give back,

i'd look at you more everyday,
a certain crazy creeping unto us,

i regret, and yet proceed,
your attention so blinding,

i'd stop

rejecting

and am only able now

to receive, your love.
on knees, i am hugged and salvaged,
cared for and fed, loved and renewed,

whots this to stop loving and be loved?
an amazing divorce, a true answer,

a wonder,
and my tired self,
returns this whiteness again.

like as if you did

care about my opinion

to be ignored is the most hated feeling in the world,
I MATTER BECAUSE I AM AN ENTITY, A MIND, AN ENTIRE NETWORK OF UNIQUE THOUGHT PROCESSES THAT

YOUUUUU


DO NOT OWN NOR HAVE

ANY

CLUE

ABOUT.

MY. OPINION. MATTERS.

dafuq is bo hew you. I tHINK that MY view is BETTER than YOUR one-sided, narrow-minded Perception of our situation, and I dONT give a FUCK if you CANT be bothered to Comprehend and RESPOND to something YOU obviously DONT understand about! what makes you think your way is better than mine? why cant i be more right than you? why cant i be MORE experienced and see and do things better than you? i dont see you being more mature than this. i dont agree with your style, your opinion, your way of handling things and talking to people. i dont like the way you treat your friends and the people around you BECAUSE I DONT. LIKE. THE WAY. YOU, TREAT. ME.

i dont comprehend why you cant be, in actual fact, stupider than me.

i am breaking away from you today. i really think im smarter and more well-rounded than you and i dont think im unrealistic nor immature, if ever being young is a bad thing. and i just. dont support you anymore. i dont want to follow your style and actions anymore.

I WANT YOU
TO ACCEPT MY WAY
TO ACCEPT ME
AS A PERSON
THAT HAS A BRAIN
AND HAS FEELINGS
AND AM NAWT SOMETHING YOU CAN PUSH AROUND!

Just because i like to write, analyze, revel, ponder and muse about transitory feeling and situations doesnt make me weaker than you. what makes me a better writer, is definitely not your judgement of my psyche, when you dont even write nor are able comprehend my work one bit.




this sorrow, your present to my work,
your presence to mine, i

dont need so much as a confirmation,

just a space

this
a
space

of situation

of engulfment
to displace
and invoke

more...

opi n io n



my angel, you do know i am talking about you right.

break hearts what larks

im not cut out for this,

yet love is in my profession,

loving an image everyday, kowtowing, boot-licking, having mindless banters and cheering and jeering,

vomit rainbows on a model of a self,

and then again

in the end,

today i can only say,

i can love you for a night,

but i cannot do it forever.

because it will be too tiring for me,

and i dont want to feel that with you.

we can have many more nights, anyway.


whuts this fear of drowning in love, your face and presence too gagging, this past too demeaning,

im way beyond being on my knees,
on all fours, on my belly salmon-begging for love,

i can never throw myself there again.

baby i can love you for one night,

but dont make me any more than that.


because i am really only worth that much you'd pay for my fee.

i need.. more skin

i want.. more bodies

fuck talking nice, i just want to rape you now..

i might be rushing because im frustrated, stressed, over worked prolly,

but it just means that i need more

attention.

if i cant get more from you, then i need something somewhere someone else.

i dont want to rack my brains on how to get what i want from you,

i just need you to know how much i want you now.

im jumping off my seat, heart on overdrive,
only
for
your
attention.


calmdown..

now how do i let you know you make me feel this way..

i dont know what makes us better,

but myself,

i am really not so good.

i try to tell you what im like,

destitute, shameless,

and yet i cant get myself working again,

insides, all screwed up,

a panic, a human feeling,

paranoia and how i dont like people to hate me and talk behind my back,

im not getting anything out of you biting my head off,

but i do try hard still.

i think i've done good this year, and my sister came home a little too excited about buying my present than usual.
which makes me feel twice as bad about ruining my own birthday for other people.
i dont know what theyll give me, an earring? a taxi license? ok nonsensical aside, idk, maybe i'll get a gundam set.

and actually,
i really want flowers.

I keep this trinket close to heart, a symbol of what we grew from.

I am not much better than before,
Dirtier, because I realize I can't save mistakes anymore
But kinder, because holding remorse doesn't make me a better human

Since we died I made sure I could handle any kind, all kinds of people.
I made sure I could enter and center any circle.

Because I had to be sure that it is not me who is giving up at any point of time,
I need to make sure I never stop
Because when I stop lying

I think the world will be a universe more unbearable,

If I died, what about all these people who cared?
I need to make sure my words

Never

Undo their bright eyes..
Because I can take pain better than them, I can take it for you.

dont look down on her

because i am still here,

i am the one to blame

i am so indebted to her

dont look down on her,

cuz i am i so much better than her.



how much more do you want me to be?

how much more prettier,

how much more kinder,

how much more sociable

how much more knowledgeable,

how much more proper, clean, holy, pure, untouched

do you want me to get,

because i would do anything for you

i would become miss world universe twice for you
even if it takes me 50 years.

how can i make you realise how awesomely easy my replies are to?
how can i make you relate to what i make for you.
this is not a show. this is how much i am willing to take to meet you on equal levels.

would you be kinder if you knew i was in love?
would you.. if i had brought my latest interest?

would you know how much i did
was forced, and accepted so

just

because

I Love You?

i would never love you as much as even my small muses now,
but you mean so much that i need so much to save you,
can you.. not slip away, not kill me, not slaughter my little wishes
because i really ONLY want to save you. and not myself

because i realise,
in the end, i am so much more better than you.

but i never deny you are prettier in so many senses.


angst,

is an implication of purity, i need to tell you that i drank, and i know that you

need to do this,

but i sincerely doubt your whys.

am i... really so oblivious to being used?

so used to giving everything that its too much but i dont even know, so much that i appear a fool to others?

even for things- everyday things , that dont even remotely involve my angel.

i would be a fool for you,

but now i seem to be.. just plainly a fool.

too nice? wrong impressions? taken advantage of?
too ego? put me back into my place? what place? slaving again?

i think i got improve. at least now i know when i dont want to entertain certain situations for my own benefit.
and how to keep my own mind apart from what other people say..

im.. on the wrong frequency with my "happy playlist", so disheartened...

i.. dont know how, where to turn to.

i need to entertain more people, work with more things, more stuff to accomplish,

what, i need to alter my route now? what

what am i doing,

should i just walk away from this?

preserve my pride? or my work, my babies... the company, the people that depend on me to stay relevant, even if i know its too much and too unreasonably,

carrying worlds,
tanking,
paving paths for people i feel responsible for,
all in a days' work..

because i know living with people is awesome.
being the center of support is inspiring, helps unknowing people push on.

glorifying, and yet, most times i write about how selfish i am in fulfilling my own desires,

i know i wanted this list of bodies, this much of attention,

i touch because i want, and i am irresponsible because of that?

how come i never know what is enough for 5000 other people,
how i do calibrate these levels to be the same, to at least explain myself to 5000..
do i even?

facing 1 person is difficult enough.. facing the world is unpleasant..

this is why people like me better than you.

i'd still want to be friends, and they'd wantto as well because they knwo i am different from them, i am not just a repeat of what they are, i am an addition to their being. and that's being friends is about..

visited my old profs today. they love me because i am not mediocre, and i am not a lackey, i do whatever the shit i want, even when they disagree. and there's the respect we're talking about. thats how i am memorable, thats how i am chanel and i am not a number, a class, a piece of work.

apart from you i am honest, apart from you i am self-assured, apart from you i respect my talent,

apart from you, i
think that i am a better person. a better human,
and i will complete a most fulfilling and most amazing lifetime by 30.

i think im almost there.


since portraiture,
i.. haven t been able to forget a face in the crowd,
a ubiquitous white man, a narrow passageway, a certain horror,
i panic because i felt the atmosphere tell me why i am not supposed to be here.
a pain of recession, yet im further front than you seem to think.
front is painful too.. dont know left from right,

blonde boy,
actually, i find i just
need some skin. but also, it'd be fun to see where it can go.

dear angel,

sometimes, words come so naturally, i dont even need to prompt, what is this? and in other cases, almost everyone else is as hard to talk to as you are.

sometimes, i wish i was a different kind of person, but now i am,

now i am,
her, most closely,

you, most vaguely,

myself, less likely,

and then again, i
just want to try now.

a fright of a starter, and yet
a universe apart,
you and i
just got
a universe

closer...

want

your

body,

and how much im learning,

and waiting

for more attention,


alpha-male or tsundere


oh man, i

insult

is opinion

opportunists, smart ones at least

dont create themselves.

dont fail,
because i dont like revealing them

i dont like being around awkward

i can tell, and i make the effort to sense what i can

and maybe i will that chance,

blonde

or tall

or just pretty,

who cares... i

will be so much prettier.

only because i love her.

till all my sleeves are stained red


from being too honest to care,

i am aware sometimes, but i cant stop feelings

its.. torturous to know how it will go, how it will end, how i might feel

and not be able to change it.

not able to release it,

i cant talk about it, because it legitimizes what i am denying.



and here comes the cheesy posts,


chiselled features, chocolate body,
old eyes that pretend to be young just so he can do his job and get along well.

expensive tastes and visual whore,

i can never figure you out, and i can never stop myself either,

even if i know i like them for all the wrong reasons.