susypow

The nine to five is over for another sixty-four hours.  I'm not counting, are you? Arms out the window, controlled only by the wind.  Piercings all over her face she yells at a boy of five; a mother of four and a foetus ready to make it five. "Get your fucking arms in the window you little shit" He winces.  She's hit him before. I retreat and pull those arms back in from the wind.  A train flies past – we would've lost our arms if it weren't for the human scrap metal facility over there.

Social infidelity with a spark that'll burn. Far too relaxed for impersonal relations. Queuing up for something only to slam the door in my face. I've made it this far but it's the journey not the destination that's proverbially supposed to matter. I don't know how I feel about trusting intuition; walking blind and running without a purpose. Misconception by deception. The cognitive elements of perception but I'm failing to recognise. Thanks for watching while I fall and pushing me off the precipice. Warmest regards for the misunderstanding in which I constructed myself as human.

He looks terrible. He wastes days away lying in bed. He acts indecisive because he doesn't want to appear cocky or self-aggrandizing. He doesn't want to be rude. He isn't confident. He doesn't have the ability to tell me what to do, or tell anyone what to do. He couldn't start a fight, he'd say I was being unfair if I got nervy at him. I feel like aggravating him, forcing him out of comfort [but the point would never get across]. He hasn't seen daylight in so long. We saw the sunrise once. I never sleep, he slept all day and stayed up with me at night. We played video games. He mustn't have thought I could play them on my own, [2player syndr

not enough words to speak on the telephone. a conversation divided through stops & starts. stuttered syl·la·bles, forgotten words. i've gotten to a point where there's nothing left to say because i've said it all before to someone not unlike yourself. relationships prosper through articulation. if i can't write it down, and i can't scream out loud there's only so much that these eyes can yell. it seems as if my life has been, until this point, only marked by the comings and goings of everyone i've ever loved. my father, the angel of Christ [with withered wings & shattered eyes] marks the very start of this lethal game. too ma

the indication came with no surprise, there'd been ill-thoughts & impersonal patronisations floating through our hearts: we'd proved to be our demise. we're nothing but the best of friends until the well runs dry, we'll do everything you want us to as long as you'll bend over backwards for us. i hate to say i told you so. the past is just a capsule for the things we've left behind.

We talked in white lies, a conversation in code. Our concerns were of third parties, and fourth and fifth, the latter two with nothing to do with the issues at hand but more than willing to give oxygen to the flame or to stand by and hiss at the right moment. I promised friends I'd write in code; we wanted to be the first ones with the gossip especially when it was our own. We wanted it to be a secret until we were sure we couldn't lose. The win, when executed, proved indifferent – we were just the same as before but now we had scars to show of battles and romance and friends burnt to ash.

A blank page to match a blank face. I'd like to say that I know, that I really know. Something , Something , ANYTHING! But sorry, I've run out of hot air and patience for respect I was so sure I held for you. [But I wasn't so sure.] But Dear me, I'm sure now. We're over, this friendship, it's over. It's not like we were that good anyway.