Jul. 18th, 2015

mxmories: pusheen the cat eating ramen (Default)
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mxmories: pusheen the cat eating ramen (Default)
 

Houses fall, roofs tumble into the dust.

A pile of shrapnel and glass from a broken home stand at attention.
My mind is a musty pile of old drywall,

building material that no one ever really cared about anyways,

so who cares if I fall? I don’t mind;

no one ever really cared about this anyways.

Whoever really cared about this, anyways?
My mother gave up the house today;

my father signed the divorce papers today;

we all moved out today;

my old life was crushed today.

Today, it was demolition day;

today, a wrecking ball went into my house;

today, we filled our empty hearts back up with cement in hopes that no one would notice (1 part water to 1 part aggregate to 1 part cement mix to 1 part truth to 99 parts lie ((It’s a lie, it’s all been a lie, from the birthday parties to family picnics; I don’t care))).

What’s a little white lie, anyways?

Whoever really cared about this, anyways?
(Not me, oh no, no, surely not me; you must be mistaken.)

I’m crumbling into smaller and smaller pieces,

I’m blowing away with the wind,

but…

no one ever really cared about this anyways.

DOOMSDAY

Jul. 18th, 2015 05:28 am
mxmories: pusheen the cat eating ramen (Default)
 

Waking up in a sweat,

tired and hungry,

but no one seems to listen anymore.
Smoke another cigarette, drink another water bottle, fall asleep in a lawn chair.

Riding in a car feels like doomsday, but I swear I’ll go anywhere with you, babe.

I don’t eat anymore, but I still want to devour every inch of you.

My mother still asks if I’m okay, but she doesn’t want to know the answer.

At least you know to listen. You know what you’re in for, you know?

I’m so overworked and overtired, I just want to bawl. But I know that isn’t an option.
Not yet.

 



They told me they were sick. Sick of this shit, sick of everything. Sick of all of it.
I understand.

 

I miss them, still. Can we at least pretend to still be friends?
No one seems to listen anymore.

But you do. At least, I think you do.
I think you should. We all do, right?

 


 

I ask how you’re feeling, too.
Just to make sure.
You always answer the same, even though I never do.
Are you sick of this shit, too?
Same old same old, commonplace complaining, secondhand sadness.
My anxious tendencies leave me on the floor. Again.

 


 

When I woke up, I heard that old song playing in my ears again.
Acoustic, of course.

I tremble… They’re gonna eat me alive... ♪

But there’s nothing left to eat.
Not even a bone to pick at.
You left me out for the vultures and I let them devour me, like you’d hoped.

No one seems to listen anymore.

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mxmories: pusheen the cat eating ramen (Default)
madi(son)

July 2015

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