Sing me to sleep with an Rx lullaby

I.

I am trapped

I am an anachronism
a remnant of what could have been
the memoir of a dying generation
the last breath of the last real poet,

all the failure and rage and dreams and hopes and
none of the joy
none of the glory.

I am alone and they passed on at the moment of
my birth and
my rebirth and
my realization of being born

I am the bastard child of the ages.

II.

have you ever felt the world dying around you? felt yourself going mad like some planet crawled inside you and is growing and growing and strangling you and you'll never get free and you're drowning in this modern cesspool of society and you'll die young in the next ten years and you were never meant for this era. you were born too late and you'll never belong and people will look at you funny like when the radio is between stations and you're static and erratic and you'll never see the fall.

III.

Between the books, sections Hg3883 and Hf5548.4 our bodies touched. Heated kisses, muted sounds, gently caressing against works of nonfiction. Could their authors see us now? Feel our passion? Crave you as I do? Would they understand the way I ache? In a million years, when this library has turned to dust, will our love still stand?

IV.

Sitting in my room, shirt off, Lucky burning in what I can only describe as a finger bowl, I have hit what I can only begin to think is the most wonderful balance of vices. booze and incense and nicotine and rage course through my veins in spastic screechings of children on a water ride, letting the liquid take them where it wants. tea cools on the night stand. my beautiful cotton second hand blanket is blackened by frantic ashings of a shaking hand.

I am completely content.

I am out of control.

[exerpt from the litle blue bird journal on the nightstand, written several nights ago, fixed for spelling errors]


Things have changed.

The way I spend my days, my nights, my brand of cigarettes, the way I felt towards someone who would never feel the same, the colour of my skin, the health of my aunt.

I am traped in the life of a housewife, a teenaged mother. With my mother at the hospital, care and keeping of my tiny cousin has fallen upon me. I cook, I clean, I do all that is requred of me with no complaints, not to my mother. I am not going to be unnecessary stress. But it numbs the mind, and I can slip out every so often on a walk, escaping to follow the sounds my headphones pump into me and clear my head with nicotine flooding my body. With all that is happening, I can't quit.

I don't want to quit.

I rarely write during the day, but it's hard to access the computer at night now that my laptop has, unfortunately, passed on. He's off in some factory now, cooling system having malfunctioned, and should return by the 6th of July.. or I am to get a new laptop from Best Buy, if they can't fix him. His memory was wiped, and half of my poetry that I never uploaded went away with it.

I am so tired. Sleeping is nearing impossibility, or, at least, good sleep is. I wake up more exhausted than when I fell asleep.

My skin, usually pale and spotted with reddish gold freckles, has taken a vibrantred of a red-brown tone depending on where you look. My thighs are so painfully burnt. My shoulders and arms aren't as bad as I would expect, but they're exposed far more frequently. I haven't worn shorts in two years, but I've worn plenty of strappy tops. The plus side is that with all of the sunshine piercing my skin, many, many more freckles have come out to play, sprouting all over me. Including a few on my face, which hasn't freckled in several years.

I've created a tumblr, it's mostly photos and things I find intriguing, along with blogsecrets I find amusing or relate to, and conversations with my friend and myself over things that were tumbled or retumbled or something similar to that.

I'm reading Haunted right now, I've recieved and finished The Show that Smells, and I recently watched Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. I've started smoking Lucky Strikes (I miss my blacks), I'm a pescatarian for over two weeks (who made a mistake yesterday of eating some chicken. filled with guilt over it.), I am doing my best to stay sane in these trying times. I have conversed with spirits over a ouija boards, had a tarot reading, and remembered how I am going to die. I am young and reckless, but not as wild and wrecked as I would like to be.

I am so many things compiled to create a nobody.

SOCIETY WILL LAY IN RUINS

The depression came again, but I have been working through it this time, and it is not as bad as it used to be. I still can't sleep, I cry all night, I wake up with tearstains on my cheeks, reeking of heartbreak and incense. I am not smoking any more. My aunt is living with us now. She has three kinds of cancers and a perforated bowel. We don't know what will happen. It scares me. I just want a cigarette, but I don't want to be her.

Not smoking has make me gain weight. I have gone through three different diets in the past few months. Because of the weight I gained back, I have lost a total of three pounds. Some days, I make myself sick in the mirror. Other days, I can guide my hand down soft skin and fat and feel beautiful like the stars in the twenties. They weren't so thin. They wouldn't give me dirty looks.

My birthday went well. It was small, a few friends, and I spent part of the day at the hospital with my aunt (she is now home with us, as I said). I was pierced, on my left brow and my right nostril. The brow piercing is horribly bruised now, deep blackpurple and reds and yellows. I received wonderful gifts, like a ditch head named Hershall who was gained through means I do not believe were exactly legal, and an antique clock shaped like a giant pocket watch. I have new clothing and jewelery. I am soon to be getting a gift in the mail from a friend who lives far enough away that it is required.

A few days later, my friend took me to Lily Dale as a present. I had a reading done and she also bought me a few things that hopefully will bring me what they are supposed to..

I have spent almost every day with my friends so far. It has been the most wonderful summer I think I have ever had, and it is only the end of May. We eat lemon ice and watch movies and discuss the fall of society and how we will come out unscathed and dressed in the height of steampunk fashions. Marissa purchased a gas mask. I am lusting after goggles and circular bandoleer scarves.

Everything is kind of backwards right now, but I am working through it. I am stronger than I have been with all of this support. It isn't so bad. It isn't so bad.

I just want a cigarette..