Oleuanna

I can’t ……

Even if I tried really really hard… I couldn’t. And I think about it daily as I do the school run with my friends. I just can’t. I look around the playground and want to tell my friend, ‘this is the first time I have ever been in this situation, this normal dim explanation of nucleic married mise en scene, what kind of crap excuse is this for me to love again’?

I am the watcher of a phone ring…with never lift reply, remove my eyes out to the window where clouds and sky reply constantly ignore insistent desire, well if I did I’d be a liar. Every man I look at or talk to sexually I hate, his twisted sexiness just reminds me of being raped, I don’t want to feel this way but I can’t escape. They just all sicken me. Not the intelligent, they aren’t seen as men, it’s never an us and them, I consider myself that scene, so my mind goes to a place of which can not be defaced or so it seems.

Any man who touches me I cry and makes me feel so sick inside and it’s just something I can’t hide and now don’t really care to … I’m afraid it’s true….love and sex don’t much my boots

I wouldn’t lie to you….

Widow Orphan

Sat, 10 Apr 2010 13:54:00 -0400

She doesn’t flirt. Well maybe back in her twenties when black was in but not face to face anymore. She knows if she did she would be considered some sort of desperate whore. Though in asking of her need for love or attention, she would simply reply ‘I do it because I’m alive and fulfilling life’s desire’. She wasn’t very eloquent.

She stupidly chose to entwine her life with others, opening doors and windows revealing herself naked in places and it would seem intentions. At first as always they loved her for her difference, loved her anger and the shoddy way she would fight all alone, ungloved and vicious but with caressive cocky smile, they all fucking loved her style, but only for awhile.

Then they turned, she knew it would happen it always happens. One person began to feel the lack of attention she could give, the other proud as if to say they never needed the witch to live. She always becomes the bitch.

She lived a single and purposely uncomplicated life, which she sprinkles with no ties or obvious lies. People enter into her world and ask her to change her round peg to fit their square shaped holes, she did it once not even the devil now wants her soul. She tried for a sober uninjected second but was always beckoned by her need to be free uninhibited and happy. Their corrosive demands war down her charms and left her empty.

It’s so dark, it’s always so fucking dark, she never opens windows or curtains and just places herself in the comfort of her dirty bed, sat upon a floor now unseen.

Well why would she keep it clean?

‘Why couldn’t she just be normal he said… ‘behind me and unseen’