Writing with no conclusion is like having sex without orgasm. All I can seem to write at the moment are bits and peices that never come together, never end, never resolve. I feel like im having withdrawls from writing and yet everytime I try I can't finish what ive started, ugh Im ranting I have my doubts that anyone will read this journal but I need to get this out so I don't really care..... Ugh Ugh Ugh!!!

so here are my scraps of unfinished worthless wastes of words.... blah



...I have a deep seeded infatutation with full lips and girl yours are the fullest ive ever seen....
here I sit beside you, caged and suffocated by the four walls around us, watching as you scrawl more of your beautifully sadistic, tidy little words into one of your infinite number of black notebooks, in multiple shades of permanent marker. and my thoughts keep twisting back and forth between the shakey sound of your breathing and the deep cherry red of your lips as they silently mouth your written words,...

when you look up at me from
your paper full of technicolored broken dreams and ask what Im thinking and why Im looking at you that way, my replies of "nothings" and I don't knows" really mean I want to know you from the inside out, wanna know what the scrambled words of your countless musing really mean...
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You tear me apart then piece me back together but my heart is wearing thin, my veins have collapsed and despite what you think duct tape does not fix everything

and I am hiding insecurities beneath me scars but the once white puckers of skin are starting to rip open at the seems and now Im having trouble hiding the blood from you.

Your lips take my breath away and your touch makes me weak at the knees, but now im suffocating and Im falling to the ground onto jagged rocks and broken glass...
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