it's getting hard to breathe in los angeles.

'and the only thing i can do is scream your name over and over again and pretend there's something (real, and actually) wrong with me'. hey, so maybe it matters nothing.

'you have become my pretend tragedy.' so fake. so worthless. so pointless.

'and the way you can't drink away your dented heart when you're seven years underage.' this is it.

'although eventually everything loses their meaning, even unromantic boys who mean so much it has to be unhealthy.] i OD'd on taking back sunday. again.

angst sucks. but maybe it's a sickness. '$14.99 wasted on a thin circular plastic disc and makes acidic bile rise in her throat, or maybe tears in her eyes]

'well, you know i’m as materialistic as they come.] basically, a compilation of more than ten journal entries spanning the past month or so in so-called poetry form. make of it what you will.

'i am falling out of sanity and into love ] the result of too much caring, too much trying and too many sleepless nights, cliche as it may sound.

'damage dances caustic through my past].

'hallucinations of a forgetful and a forgotten future in which i never existed to you]

so incurable but it's what i've got.

'it is hateful/watching you rot away] umg...words?

'alternating drenched and parched in the sunlight/i think i loved you for it] WARNING LABEL: not my best. umg kind of angsty/schoolgirl crush-y. you have been warned.

[gratified nothingness for precious minutes] pretending to be poetry.

[you/my silver-plated lover/rotting on the inside]

what my poetry is in 5-7-5 syllables.

[ice-black eyes and my commonplace hazel / so well together] i concur.

[warm hands stuck to my skin (i, unwilling, try not so hard to pry you off] so shallow and so wanted.

'and once again we’re playing at being invincible - just until the last great collision'

'close my mind and break my heart in two (it won’t work again, it might burst' a.k.a. fear

'from here it only looks like a body bag' the roadblock in my mind.

"you tint with cloudy yellow my dreams".

(you say it’s because i wasn’t meant to.'... so set me off.

'i am addicted to you and addiction is a higher magnitude of obsession and obsession isn’t healthy'.

'jagged bitter ruby soaking into frozen earth that crunches beneath my bare feet this saline taste attacking my tongue and making me cry'. i have no idea where this poem came from; it was like someone was writing through me. really angsty. implications of

'reality and dreams melded together to form a world i wish i never lived in'.

Alice finally did it. She dumped her boyfriend. No, not HER BOYFRIEND! Her boyfriend! THAT one, not the other one! Updated 5/11/04, finally.

'She finally drifted into blissful oblivion, and when she did the dreams attacked their new prey even more savagely than life had.' Updated 5/9/04.

'what are you playing with, little boy? it's the world again, isn't it.'

wrote this at 11 pm on a school night. mind you i have to wake up at 5:30 normally...yay yay insomnia. with a touch of angst. everyone's favorite subject.

'paper can’t be addicted to anything or anyone and in that it is very much my opposite'.

I should really stop posting depressing angsty poetry here...oh well 'and something slips and slowly but increasingly my mind follows]

'To burn from the inside outwards.' [and yet again: thoughts collected in freeform. The sort of poetry that could be considered a type of prose. Hope you like.]

Fire abounds; one person reflects at the funeral of an old friend.

(we are ice melting in the heat of destiny.' i'm really sorry that all i've written lately is depressing...it's because poetry is my outlet for whatever i'm feeling. so, just...sorry. i don't feel this is my best work, but i like it somehow...

'i smeared the cherry gloss (that i put on for you) from my lips.' thoughts collected in freeform.

what i wrote to cleanse myself after my three angsty poems. lines are taken from here and there; this piece is a mix-up of the work i've posted today with some new elements. enjoy?

"once i danced and i think it was with you but it’s not clear anymore..."

and all coherency once mine fades into the unforgiving mist.

doesn't it get boring, being forever perfect?

empty me of all pain // or let me spiral downwards to levels i have never reached before

psychedelic...

"Never listened to my music and put a razor to my wrist, watching the blood pool on my floor in dazed abandon. Though I cannot say that, at times, it did not seem welcome." Wrote this ages ago...

Is writing anything more than channeling your emotions? I've channeled my pain and this is the result...a sequel, of sorts, to Just Friends. More depressing, however.

A one-shot in which the world ends, and one man previously taught not to think ponders. Review if you want to. :) [STORY EDITED! much has been added. still a one-shot, however :).]

'stars winked out one by one and she hid a gasp as the world grew darker and colder.' WARNING LABEL: essentially crap.

'but dreams die, and so do people'. WARNING LABEL: essentially crap.

'she said evenly, but also with a desperate sort of intensity, “are you going to kiss me?”" ' WARNING LABEL: essentially crap.

'the photo albums are shoved into a musty closet in the basement of their mansion and she stands by the pool one day in a summery white lacy dress ripping the photos into pieces smaller then the lily petals that float on the dark blue water.'

unrequited love.

'she was ten, & he was fifteen. her first taste of the future.' WARNING LABEL: essentially crap.

'she didn't want to cry.' WARNING LABEL: essentially crap.