Life's Not a Bitch, Life is a Beautiful Woman
Saint Louise Was Listening On
2:53 a.m. || 2004-06-07
All I ever wanted is to pick apart the day, put the pieces back together my way.
You won't be laughing when:
everything that's coming to me is finally come, and I swear to God (who doesn't listen to me, and I wonder if the Goddess does either at this point) it will, one day.
You won't be laughing when:
Someone finally realizes that I'm not acting out, I'm serious as a heart attack.
You won't be laughing when:
I finally tell you I have it figured out, and I know all those glibe little comments in your diary are about me... and I aquiesce to them as the truth.
You won't be laughing when:
I figure it out, and I don't have to slave to retail for my dollar.
You won't be laughing when:
I finally realize it's mating season... and need to find a mate.
All these things will come to pass. I woke up this morning, and knew I was changing, I woke up with a heavy kind of different hurt, a new kind of emptiness, a sensation not unlike drowning, which is not unlike suffocation, which is not unlike holding one's breath... feelings which I was comfortable with, things that were all your fault.
I was looking at my feet so I didn't trip, like I always am, always missing your gun at my temple,
You won't be laughing when:
I suck the barrel down and submit. There must be a man on this earth who could do a more satisfying job at breaking me. There must be someone who is a comfortbale rapist, a sensual psychopath, someone who is a deadly sin, and someone who is just as dead to this world as I am.