Carnage

It was the intoxication for you that made me realize that I’ve been getting drunk of the wrong things for way to long

I’ve been sober before your lips, before your hands on my hips

You made me rethink the concept of being in a state sobriety

Because I would always see my self staring at the end of a bottle for a daring push into the world of extraordinary cliches to feel a sense of normalcy, different than awkward social convention I shoved myself into 

But then I found myself drinking you, and felt at ease, felt at peace

Because liquor isn’t supposed to transform you

It’s supposed to bring out your truest shade out form the shadows

Shadows that were born out of the constricted norms embedded into my mind before I could even think about playing with my barbie dolls

And then I drank a tangy mixture of cheap vodka, expensive self-derailemt and an aftertaste of a misplaced childhood.

And for the first time in my predetermined existence

For the first time in my etiquette driven, formulaic personality

For the first time my mask fell of my face

Tumbled down on to the floor

And fell between your fingertips

For the first time I wasn’t afraid of pain

I found comfort in the scars you left on my neck

Open wounds that got infected with delusions and ill-adviced caresses

Because with every stroke they became deeper

And now here I stand

That result of your carnage

Battered black and blue but holding on to your control over me

Waiting

Waiting for you to bite deeper into me until I’m lost in my own oblivion

Only to find myself in your arms

Wanting to feel weak again

Craving the hangover 

A Summer to Remember

Like any teenage girl on her last official summer break -I’m a senior in August – I want this summer to be one that stays in the back of my mind and actually do something with it. I’m leaving for Boston in a few days to give my self “a taste of the college experience and find out what it’s like to be on my own”. As psyched as I am about independence, I want to do so much more. That’s why I’m sending letters to random strangers.

This is a community of writers, and I’m sure every writer here wants their words to actually mean something to someone other than themselves. That’s why I suggest everyone to go to moreloveletters.com

Here, you’ll find requests to from people to write letters to friends and family who need caring words to brighten their spirits and lift their day.

Well, thats enough promo for one post. I do recommend it though.

I can honestly say that finding this site has really given me something to think about and something to do. This is the summer all upcoming seniors are supposed to think about what they want to do with their lives, where they want to apply to go to college, who they want to be. I’ve been in the dilema of sticking to my horses or my pen for many years now, as as much as I love my horses, competing is not going to change the lives of others or do any good to the world.

I’m a writer, expressing my self and putting ideas and opinions out there is what I do. Might as well specialize in it to see if I can make a living of my big mouth and unfiltered pen.

Hi. My name is Hopeless, and I am a Wordaholic

You know that feeling when you want to write,

But you have nothing to write about

So you end up writing about not having anything to write about?

 

 

I must have about 1000 scraps of paper

With that exact same idea

Of just filling up lines with senseless talk

Just because I have the urge of seeing a page filled with ink.

 

It’s become an addiction

Playing with words,

Snorting up vowels,

And smoking metaphors

To get high on explanations of the unexplainable

 

Because the feeling of getting lost in words,

Traveling into another dimension

Up above your sense or normalcy

Is just about the same buzz you get from the sting of liquor

It’s the same memory erasing effect

That leave you dry

And leaves you satisfied

Under the migraine

 

I am an alcoholic druggie who’s addicted to rhythm

Who will never go back

Because without my pen

Without my words

I feel the shakes and aches

Of the pain that slowly creeps back

Tickling my spine

And taunting my lips