30/6/24 9:19 pm
pecan pie and a cigarette. barefoot on the balcony. i'm not feeling myself lately, but i'm trying to get it together.
i'm a zombie in the supermarket. i come to, my mouth bloodied with cherry clots. i cover my face when I laugh so nobody can see my gums. i'm losing my train of thought.
she sits with her sheepskin boots tucked up on either side of her, like a roast chicken. i waver and flicker. i wonder what will happen to us. the problem with me is i have a high pain tolerance, no self-motivation, and an awkward disposition. i'll sit in the same position until my legs are cramping up and still wont move a muscle. i'll never speak my mind if there's any real risk involved. that's cowardice.
i'm a zombie at the beach, trudging in the sand. i trip and fall in the ocean in front of everyone. i don't even know what i tripped on. i swim to shore and wring out my shirt. i treat everything like a joke. i have green flesh and puffy eyes and i eat too much too fast and a lot of things make me want to throw up. i'm struggling to get my feelings out in a way that reads coherently.
right now i'm a zombie sitting here, pecan pie churning in my gut, wanting to move away. to laugh awkwardly. to suck back a lungful of salt water. to say what i feel. to take a bite out of her skin. i won't do any of those things.