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i am at the end of my rope, and you are hanging from it by your neck. Electricity is a metaphor. We call it power. But power is cold. Power has no use. It's like money, always where something better used to be. Calm, like an office building before a terrorist attack. I hope you had your coffee this morning. These words are falling to the floor like used up rounds from an automatic weapon. I'm firing wildly, try not to get hit. I fucking hate your face. I secretly want you to fail at everything you do. And it pisses me off even more because I don't want to feel this. I don't need this. There's a blizzard in your chest, and it's beyond me how your frozen heart still beats. I've outgrown all of this. Any attachments I had to you have been tossed aside like crumpled love notes from stupid lovers who just don't get it. The escape tunnels have all been dug, the guards bribed, and a pickup on the outside arranged. I'm not going to miss this prison. Misery, bad company, and shitty food to boot. If I see you on a subway years from now, I will pretend I don't recognize you and walk right past, grinning the whole time at what a jackass you are. I've always wanted to throw a burning cigarette into a puddle of gasoline, but I think this is the social equivalent of that. Kaboom. ----- - - 6:32 p.m. , January 29, 2005 personal empowerment - 9:48 p.m. , January 12, 2005 jaksdf - 7:22 p.m. , December 19, 2004 the break up - 11:08 p.m. , December 16, 2004 fists of rage - 6:28 p.m. , December 13, 2004 |