blood and next of sKIN

~

there is a club you dont want to be added into-
seems like former heart surgery patients always just know when they see another and swap stories.
to them this is better than any badge or honor-
they beat death.
this lady had a cut straight down her chest where her heart was,
and she still wore a low cut tanktop, not at all trying to hide it.
a huge smile on her face, the kind that are geniune- a rarity in a city of plastic faces.
makes you think more "la la la la life goes on." and less "i wanna.."
admiration for the people that deserve it.
not people born into the spotlight clutching a silverspoon but real heros.
survivors.
it makes me feel kind of like a pussy when im crying over "heartache" next to someone that had a coronary artery bypass graft surgery.
i guess i can get a nod on kind of similar paradoxical pages because they both involve the heart.
i guess sometimes you see someone more deserving of a perfect working heart that gets beat more than it beats and you wish you could give them it.
stuck in a chest meant for sharp pains and ink stains..
normally hes just an irreconcilable mess on the floor.
who needs heart if its just for that?
i never understood how what i did when i oded was a selfish act until now.

sloppy smile and impeccable timing.
couldnt have been more of a angel if she took a halo down with the club and kept the room lit up all night.
kept my face lit up.
six feet underwater. refreshed.
the power was(h)out.
couldnt feel my feet and didnt want to.
this was the first time i forgot- but forgot indicates an accident. a sLIP.

and anymore, ive found crying only adds salt to the wounds.

do you honestly think ill put up to being second or third or last for the rest of my life because a piece of paper claims you love me?
i feel second best to every new face you turn your head to.

shes got her priorities write.

saying how i feel makes me feel like i am reading aloud the equivalent to the history of the safety elevator.
it doesnt even make it in one ear to go out the other.
went from being the current water reaching for the shore to the rock,
never stopped to think that even while being the stable dependable one everything around me would keep moving, keep changing..
busy fixing clumsy buildings made of poker cards that fall down due to hot air and shaky hands.

it seems like every victory you will ever have in life only lasts as long as the confetti is in the air-
then its forgotten and another feat is due to reclaim your importance to yourself and everyone rooting for you.
otherwise theyll forget you ever did anything good in the first place.
life isnt for living, it never was-
its for contending.
and im not ready for this match.

found the definition for true love in the "lost and found"- only it's more like "found and lost"..
..and lost and lost again.

i miss my parents. its very weird. i want to escape to the world where everything was fixed with a bandaid and if a girl said you were gross it didnt phase you. i want to curl back up in the womb but i am way too big for that. as much as i want to regress...ive already grown up. i want to be cryogenically froze until you miss me. until i am needed. that way i'm not technically a waste of life.
im life on hold.

"im not a hero, im not a savior, forget what you know
im just a man whose circumstances went beyond his control
beyond my control-we all need control
i need control-we all need control"