Life Part 8

Alot has changed. Love I had I cut away, for awhile anyway. I'm out on my own again. I'm happy about it but at the same time I wonder why I did it. I'm ignoring it for now.

Going on a road trip soon. Finaly. I don't really want to camp and listen to mom talk about how grate nature is. "Look at all this around you! Meditate on it." "Yea. Ok. That's grate, Ma." "You haven't even looked!" "Yup." "You don't care about anything and...." everything else she said is lost. I'm burried within my self again. Playing "Romeo and Juliet" in my head because I'm mad. I can't wait to go to the cities. That's where I want to live. A city. New York. Something like that. I'm digging threw music again. "Early one mornin' the sun was shinin' I was layin' in bed.." Man, I love Bob Dylan. He can sum up everything I feel. I wish I could write like him. Or let him know of my general exsistance. Something lke that.

-The Typist.

Drown in your eyes

When I first herd you my whole exsitance brightend.

I have something to live for.

Dawn bleeds into Sunset and then Night.

Laying in my bed.

Laying on an ocean.

Of my thoughts.

And I am cold.

And drowing.

Why won't you save me?

Why won't you take me?

Far far away....

There is a heavy rock tied to my feet.

Dragging towards the emtpiness.

Of shadows.

Of hallows.

Of nightmeres.

Make it go away.

Why won't you save me?

I want to die in your arms.

Drown in your eyes.

So lost and dark, like mine.

I want to kiss your face.

But I can't.

Because I am drowning.

Drowning.

In the hallows of my mind.

And all I wanted was to drown in your eyes.

Play with scissors

A hand on my neck.

Digging.

Clawing.

Grasping.

Stop! Please!

Strange fingures creep over pale skin.

What's going on?

The ash fell from my lips into a pool.

A pool of blood and ice.

I fell back into the strangers body.

Only to fall into cold water.

It cut.

Like scissors

on paper

on hair

on my skin.

I love to play with scissors.

RINGO!!!

I went to see Ringo Starr in Mississippi this weeekend. HE WAS SO AWESOME!!! Nothing more.

- The Typist

Life Part 7

I fell out of bed because the phone rang. It scared me. I'm always startled so easily! I answerd with a grumble and groan then hung up. It wasn't important. I fall back on my floor and grab my ipod. You know, I don't think I could live without this thing. Well, music I mean. I turn on The Ramones. Ahh, bliss. I always listen to them in the morning. I love Joey Ramone! I wanted to name my cat Joey but mom said that "was a stupid name" Psssht... she has no idea. So we agreed on Ramonea. This would probably make a funny picture...

Picture if you will, dear reader, a short girl with a bedhead of a moptop in jeans and a really old, really fadeded full of holes, Bob Dylan tshirt curled up in a ball by portible speakers, eyes closed in thoughts listening to "I Want You Around". That's me in the morning.

- The Typist

Death at Tea Time

Oh! To take tea with you, dearest.

To laugh and dance without a care.

And yet... somehow I wish I was dead.

I should be lucky to lay in his bed...

But I'd be safer in a grave instead!

If you love me I fear I won't fallow.

I have better to love, kiss and keep under cover.

But having tea with you is pleasing to me.

And yet some would be lucky to lay in his bed yet somehow....

I wish I was dead.

Life Part 6

I had tea with friends today. It was fun. Much cake and talk was had. I've been starting to hurt more and more each day. He haunts me still in my dreams. I get mad so i start to chip at the black paint on my nails. I hope I'm not on the verge of a brake down. I turn on some Emilie Autumn and mutter along with her while I strach and nip the paint away.. strach and nip my pain away.

"Oh what pretty dresses I'll have...." The song is wonderfuly frighting and sickening. I sip my tea and dream about scuicide. "I did what any girl would do... And when I'm beheaded and least I was wedded and when I am married at least I was burried..." Another sip "I'll fuck who I choose for I have nothing to lose." And another and another. I burt my lip on the hot brew. "What lovely dresses and hair... I'm lucky to share his bed... why do I wish I was dead?" I ponder the song for a moment then realize its self explainitory. I sing alone the best I can then stop realizing that its pointless. I fall back "God he's ugly but the fourtune he has..." I laugh at the line. The song "Marry Me" has always made me laugh... I don't know why. I think to much. I strach at my nails again revelaing there pale skin from the black cloaks that they hide under. I sat up then fell back again. Smack. I looked at my cleaning deep in thought... my fingure tips were sore... I was sore. Ugh. Am I to pale? Why won't my head shut up? Why won't I just shut up! Gahh... Now I'm mad. Wonderful. I drink my tea. It's not so hot now. I drink it gratefuly. "In times of sarrow... tea is the answer" as i remeber Oscar Wilde saying something along thoes lines. I wish I could have tea with him! But he'd fine me boring I'm sure. Oh well! Now I must go! The game is afoot!

- The Typist.

Life Part 5

I woke up. I hurt ALL over. My breathing isn't normal. My hands are all shaky. I am cold and hot at the same time. I look a mess. After awhile it subsides, but always nagging at the back of my brain. I listen to The Horrors. I try and calm myself down... but it isn't working. I look at the clock... it's 3 AM. My head is in a spin as I listen to "Scarlet Fields". What's wrong with me? I just focus on the words and his voice... just forget everything else. Forget the pain. Just focus on his voice. It makes it worse. I can't deal with him! Feeling as if my heart might brake. I turn on "Superstar" by Sonic Youth. I feel myself going into that numbness and I just listen to the words wishing I had a smoke to dull my pain. "Don't you remember you told me you loved me baby? Baby baby baby baby I love you..." Why is everything all fuzzy... like looking threw broken glass? "Loneliness.. such a sad affair.." Oh... I'm crying. Why am I crying? "But you're not really there... it's just the radio.." I sighed. I fell back on my floor whipping unknown tears off my face. "I can hardly wait.. to be with you again..." Why am I listening to this song? It's not helping at all... "Come back to me again... and play your sad guitar..." I don't know. Sometimes you need sad songs. "Baby baby baby baby oh baby... I love you..."

- The Typist.

Life Part 4 - EXTRA BORING EDITION!

Nothing to write about today.

- The Typist.

Something of a Physco.

My head aches.
All over.
Pushing, pulsating, pushing.

Shut up shut up SHUT UP!

The drum of my brain keeps trashing on and on and on.

Trashing.

Crashing.

Why won't it stop?

I can't give into my poison.

Lights.

Those lights.

Flashing.

Over and over.

Some sickening, heart clenching, beating to my madness.

This isn't happening....

I look up and see gaping mouths.

Leeches of Horrible FIGURES!

The voices in my head scream over my own out cry.

The last of my humanity.

"FEED YOUR POISON!"

No no no.

I coughed.

The knife was in constant range of my vision.

Pure.

Silver.

I touched the handle.

The voices...

"Raise the dagger. Raise the dagger."

I did.

The voices...

"Open your lips for me."

That moment of white hot trashing wonderful pain.

Then a sea of red.

Hot. Crimson.

Like my lipstick.

Then bliss.

Moaning.

Moaning.

Cry out!

To what?

The voices.

Those fucking voices.

Make them go away, mom.

Mom?!

She's not there....

Hand to my lips.

Red.

Clotting.

Dried caked on blood and vile in my taste buds.

My head...

My head...

How did I get here?

Pulsing. Pushing.

Shut up.

Shut up.

Shut up.

They all said I was something of a physco....

HA!

HA!

HA!

Life Part 3

I awoke this morning and feverishly read "Running With Scissors" in bed. I finished. I was sad. I climbed down my bunk latter in my Tye-dye shirt, which were my PJ's. I grabbed my jeans and slid them on. I looked at the time. 10:42 AM. I dug around for a shirt. The Cure. I slid it on. I could tell I was in one of those moods. I lurked to my mirror in my bathroom to doll my self up. I dug my figures into my hair and teased and teased and teased. I fixed my hair. I grabbed my can of lethal hair spray and dosed it so it would stay. I looked at my self. Half pleased. I grabbed the lquid eyeliner. I started to put it on. It was a we rid shade of black. Oh wait. It was fucking brown. "GAH." I said. I canned it. I grabbed my tried and true worn out pencil. I started on the under eyes. I sighed. "How vain this all is." I raced back to my room to turn on The Horrors "Sea Within A Sea." I laughed. Well, more cackled. I had the house to my self for awhile. As I finished my eyes I hummed the track and wounded what mom would say. "Take it off you look slutty." I laughed louder. Slutty? my arms are showing...oooo. Scandal. When I was done I stood back and inspected. Hmm. I needed lipstick. My lip stick is a bloody bloody red. And I wouldn't have it any other way. I reflected grimly on how I used to cut my lips to get them to look this way. I never understood the senssation of why I did. I applied, wiped off the smudges. Then I was done. People called me goth alot. I perferd a different name. What? I don't know. I turned on "She Is The New Thing" and grabbed a sticky note...

"Look out world... here comes a horror."

- The Typist

The Choking Game

I grit my teeth and think of you.

My breath wheezes threw my asthmatic throat.

I cough.

I cough.

Over and over.

Feels like I'm choking.

Like your hands are around my neck.

And I'm choking.

Choking on your hands.

Choking on the winter air.

Choking on my cigarette.

When I'm dead I know you'll grieve for me.

Because you love me.

I grit my teeth and enter the seas of paranoid obsession.

Feel my nails dig into your flesh.

I want to chok.

I want to choak on your tounge.

Feeling your hands on my throat.

Your skin on my skin.

It's all the same.

It dwindles down to us.

Just us two... choaking.

The Sailing Adventure Part 2

As the flight waned on, we deiced to play catch with thoes little towle things they give you. I believe my brother won because we think he hit another person. Oh my god, I'm so sleepy again. Jim Morrison's voice is so soft... making me sleepy. I feel my body giving into the peaceful bliss of something. Ok, Jim. I'll sleep for you... I promise.

After what seemed forever, we landed in Tortola (Beef Island... crazy name, huh?) The ride from the aiport was most eventful. Wide green lush plants and honey people of the islands wizzed past in a tropical dream scape. The roads were "twisty turny". Made me sick to my stomach. We made it to the marina in the nic of time. My stomach is STILL grateful.

Amist grate confusion, we got a boat. Her name is La Bella Vita wich means The Good Life my sister and I quickly added an "awwww" on the end. The name sounds French, or Spanish. My sis and I sit outside reading books and drinking. All is well.

Later in the day when the food was stored, (alone with all the mother fucking tonic!), I got to sit on the tarp in the front of the boat. (I think the front is the bow?) I watched with wonderous eyes the clouds making shapes. Oh, I also learned that the boats name is Itiailian. Boy! My guesses were off....

So I sat on the tarp and looked at the twinkling lights of cars shinig like gems going up or down into an emerald mine of trees never to be seen again. I heard little children laughing. As I walked back I soon found my ballance. I later became more social and we all went out to eat. We went to a bar called... yup. You guessed it, The Batcave (WIN!!!). We had a waitress who didnt want to give us water, or so it seemed. Bellies full, I'm falling alseep. Tommorow we sail.

- The Typist

He Woke Me

I wait for bird to fly.

I fall alseep to Jim Morrison.

And soon enough, the bird has flown.

And he shakes me awake.

Gently.

Softly.

"Shhhake dreams from your hair my pretty child, my sweet one."

I awake with a smile on my face.

He woke me.

The Sailing Adventure Part 1

Date: The Start

I hate writing in pencil. I got a pen. I laid in the carpet of my room. Clutters of clothes and papers around me. I listen to Kerouac. Soon I'll be on the road. In my fathers big white truck, suit cases in the back and my bare feet on the dashboard. Down to tropical places,but, for now, I lay here....

Now after several miles we are at my older brothers apartment in Tampa, FL. We lay on couch. "Don't write about me." "Okay." Moments later, I lay in the loft and whimper to the sound of my dad snoring. I lay coverd in darkness and I listen to "Strawberry Swing." I think of my beautiful sister and how she dances. She is a dancer. Light. Soft. Fast. Simple. Like a petal in the breeze...


We awoke before dawn for a "Breakfast of Champions": Cold Pizza and an Energy drink. We all mumbled threw airport security like a bunch of zombies.

- The Typist