taken from my personal journal again

[danceandmurder.livejournal.com]

".....all was going well until he started talking about these shows he's going to go to with his buddies. it made me feel like crap because he knows how much of a music nut i am, and he used to invite me to everything with him, now i don't get shit. and he makes up these excuses like, "the show is pretty hardcore, i don't want you to get hurt." or "I didn't think you would want to go" or "i feel bad that you're the only girl there". which all sounds like a load of crap to me, but w/e. so he pulled up to my place and i gave him a quick kiss and then i left. usually i'll linger and kiss on him, but he was being annoying. i love him to death, but he unintentionally hurts my feelings sometimes. it's common courtesy just to ask if i'd like to go..even though i'd probably say no anyway, because i like to have time with my friends, and i like knowing that he has time with his, so that when we spend time together, it makes it that much better. and i know what you're saying: "why be upset that he didn't ask you if you're just going to say no?!" it's the mother-fucking principle of it! and i know i must sound like the ultimate insane and nagging girlfriend, but believe me: i am FAR FROM IT. i'm just human, and i like to know that he's thinking of me when i'm not around. aside from when he masturbates."

i sound fucking neurotic! shoot me! 

poem!

[danceandmurder.livejournal.com]

nowhere does it say that say i can't love you,
although i know damn well i shouldn't,
and there's more than one thing wrong with us that might make
myself and others believe that this kind of match
should be punishable by law.
but our imperfections are fucking beautiful.
a little jack and sally never killed anyone.
your fear is more than enough to keep me sustained,
and i know it's my light that keeps you ensnared.
i'm the neon at the end of your tunnel, inextinguishable.
your trembling hands on my waist, and then the small of my back,
as though you've been reborn and you've never touched anyone
other than yourself.
it's the flickering in your eyes that gives you away.
some kind of blood-thirsty madness lives in there, in the same neighborhood as mine.
but yours is so benign, so precious;
this kitten has never been known to bite the hand that feeds.
and it's this way i know that we're meant to be,
in our infinite disregard.
just a pile of lips and limbs and breathless whispers,
skin and sweat and groaning,
the glistening of pale canvas against the light of a black moon.
we proclaim asthmatic vows of devotion and adulation,
swearing loyalty and truth,
but, at the same time,
we don't know what we're saying at all.
it's your smile that reassures me, no matter the agenda hidden therein.
and i know it's my ferocity, my passion, my heat;
the very ingredients of the succubus from which your hands cannot keep themselves.
those fidgeting fingers and nails cut too short,
itching to touch what they know they shouldn't
but they do anyway.
and with that probing i am alive,
a winged beast flung from some depths,
but very much human;
i can love, after all, and certainly fuck.
rip those white feathers from your spine and feel you writhe,
your golden eyes a testament to all that this is,
the pain circulating beneath them, pulsating,
a sheer orgasm in itself.
we are rendered a whirlwind of flesh and bone,
crying out for whatnots and wishes,
those of which can only be granted by the other.
and in a heap we collapse,
in the arms of the enemy,
certain that something like this this cannot last,
because,
in what kind of world can an angel and a devil fall in love?