need room
Spit regret from my throat, and where can I start?
Start five years back and looking back it all seems like this crazy mixed up dream. I closed my eyes at seven and dreamed of black hair and cigarettes. To be a fucked up rebellious teen was the way for me. Like stars in the sky and I wanted to board. I started with cigarette butts and wine coolers hidden in light blue coat jakets. Nine years old. I don�t know how to get my curls to fit right, but I knew the difference if I inhaled or not. I usually tried not to. I just wanted be cool,be liked, be with the pack and fit in real high. Long cigarettes were cool. Fresh from the pack. That lasted three times, took our last drag and never looked back. WE decided to stick to The Game of Life.
Fresh kisses after chicken fingers and pushed into old trailers to look through boxes of shit that wasn�t mine. I guess it was cool but why did my knees have to shake so bad? I never liked the kisses too much. He had too much saliva in his mouth and a chipped tooth. I brushed my tongue three times that day. John had boogers in his nose but he too was only 9.
-- Excuse me, but I�ve had a writer�s block for weeks. But I have to spit this from me.--
I�m tired, and this is going to have to be continued.. I hate always leaving off with this. But I want to move. Do my hair. Touch myself and stretch. Get up and get out. Rather than sit on a computer cave. I�ve written a million pages today. I�ll have to copy one down. Squeezethe juice from me. Tonight, there is going to be a party. I would like to just dress up realy fine, close my eyes and dance like wine. I�ll sleep real good then run away.
I�m stuck. I live with a sis, and share a room. Right now my mind is split, concentratingon when she will be home. Sometimes I hate this. But three more weeks and a new home, hopefully I�ll have a room this next one.
Mind like glue.
Friday, Mar. 09, 2007
5:28 p.m.
5:28 p.m.