http://www.makepovertyhistory.org Bleeding shields and broken glass: simon diamond sold his soul

Thursday, April 28, 2005

simon diamond sold his soul

oh hello hello darling darling rosebuds.

i am wrecked.
i should have i should have i should have. done some work. yes indeed.
it’s not my fault i don’t care i don’t regret a SINGLE THING…

actually, no. all of those statements are lies. it IS my fault. i DO care. i regret it all.
sorry sorry sorry. i wish saying sorry would help, but it doesn’t. “don’t be sorry, alter”, as my granddad would say. too many d’s in granddad i feel. but.

but i feel lonely and subdued right now. if there’s anybody left in here, that doesn’t want to be out there… actually, cut that part, there really isn’t anybody in here at the moment. no.
sometimes i feel we spend too much time glossing over things, getting drunk and pretending to be happy.

i’m not ready for kaiser chiefs, i’m tired and depressed and i haven’t done my history essay. i waste my time because i’m lonely working, and it’s not rewarding and not sensible. i’ll do it all on a saturday night, when i cut through the city watching the boys on their motorbikes, or something. the weekend i guess.
….of faking it every day.
i just wrote ‘Not Very SENSIBLE’ across my tummy. well, my sister did actually. poignant, i know. i hate the word “poignant”. it’s too heavy. i feel heavy at the moment. weighed down. crazy. nanananana. music just washes over me at the moment. i just spent three hours listening to blur and painting. i don’t even take art. so. what was the significance of détente then? it’s an easy question, but i have no motivation. i have no patience. i don’t have much of anything really.

i would like someone to hug me. properly, or something. or maybe metaphorically. i haven’t figured it out yet.
and that was that. there’s more to this than passing by. they fell apart some time ago.

i fell apart some time ago. i’m waiting to be picked up.
the ‘fucked references’ aren’t intentional. they’re not to katrina though, that’s something.
katrina.
i would give it all to you but you’d never fight me for it.
now they are. not that any of the sentences in this entry are even remotely linked. except the last two. three. five, even.
please can we rewind a few weeks? i missed them all.
bluuuuuuues explosion.
you work in a shirt with your name tag on it, by the way. drifting apart. apart, again. i hate that word too. it’s bitter.
“to live a barren sister all your life,
chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon.”
so’s that.

and it hurts every day when you don’t return my calls and you haven’t got the time to remember how it was.
michael has a broken soul, but i have a broken heart.
xxx

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home