writing things for you to write off

I'm going through it and it's going here

[romeored]

Ode to notes app catharsis and highway 97

There's a suicide circle on memory lane, right at the intersection of you and me. Warp speed, sweetheart. This is only ending with me first over the finish line or in a full body cast. I don't want it any other way. I hope you wreck your stupid car and I hope he's in the passenger seat when you do. I want to see the look in your eyes when you realize that I'm reaching all the dreams you gave up on and that I look twice as good doing it as you ever would have. I want to see the look in your eyes when you realize that I'm the one who's walking away this time. I want your blood on my hands. I want to dissect you on live TV and point out every single flawed bit of your insides to the entire world. I want you begging for my forgiveness on your knees in the dirt just so i can turn my back on you. Thinking about the future feels like doing 80 in a 25 and im not sure whether I want to hit the gas or the breaks but all that matters is that you won't fucking be there. That part feels like flying.

People say that revenge is a dish best served cold. there hasn't been anything even room temperature between us in a very long time and I can't wait to watch you rot from a distance. You're on the downward spiral and you don't even realize it. The jokes write themselves and you're the biggest fool of all. I am too, but only because i loved you at one point. I guess it's on me for not having enough sense to be wary of snakes. The cracks in the pavement sound like machine gun fire under my tires and every pothole takes me farther away from you. The sidewalk in your neighborhood is scrawled with good intentions and i should have been smart enough to read them the first time I walked up the street. I've learned my lesson. Im a kicked dog, and it was only going to be so long before i bit the hand that fed me. you were never the one holding my leash and I've finally learned when it's time to jump ship. Loyalty is so last season on both of us. Hearts of gold aren't good for much other than being heavy and I already gave mine away one too many times. Rule number one you either do the leaving or get left behind and im enjoying watching you get smaller in my rearview.

I wonder if you realize that you grew up to be everything we used to hate. hope you see a stranger in the mirror.

[romeored]

mixed kid blues

A chimaera is a monster from Greek mythology with a lions head, a goat's body, and a snake's head and body for a tail. A chimaera is any mythical monster made of parts taken from various animals. A chimaera is more than a lion, more than a goat, more than a serpent, but in being all those things it becomes lesser than a creature that is whole. As a consequence of embracing the sum of its parts, it is repulsive. It is beautiful and terrible, but unmistakably monstrous. It is a patchwork creature, the first Frankenstein's monster. Stitched together, a creature of claws and horns and teeth and venom. It doesn't know how to be anything else. It doesn't want to be anything else. To be anything else would reduce it to a lion, a goat, a serpent. It is none of those things and all of them at once. A chimaera is a contradiction.

A chimaera is something you wish for desperately but is impossible to touch, a goal that dances just out of reach of your fingertips. A chimaera taunts you with the possibility of what could be, with the potential to change your circumstances. A chimaera is a glimpse into an alternate reality, one you can never visit. A chimaera is an illusion. A chimaera is a pretty lie. A chimaera tells you all things you could be if you could just give up and decide to be a goat or a lion or a serpent. A chimaera is a dream of a world where you don't have teeth, and a chimaera is the moment you wake up with the taste of venom on your tongue. A chimaera is the knowledge that the world was not made for things like you, and a chimaera is the burning desire to carve a place for yourself in the world nonetheless.

A chimaera is an organism containing several different genetic tissues. A chimaera is all the empty-handed, lion-headed, serpent-tongued children. Many heads. Many hearts. Many hands.

[romeored]

Good thing I'm a sucker for a tragedy

The worst part is that you really do love me. The worst part is that you tried your best and I'm the living proof that it wasn't enough. Let's not lie to ourselves. You gave up on me halfway through the match. I don't blame you - I was more surprised than anyone else when I crawled back out of the ring, bloody knuckles and broken teeth. You always did say that your favorite color is red. Who's at fault for the fact that I live in it now? We always blame the monster, never the creator. Take a good long look at what you've made. Can't look away, right? I've got a slow motion train wreck for a heart and a diesel engine for a mind. I've got a chip on my shoulder and grudge that I've been carefully nursing for a while now, so you can either get on board or get out of the way. I've found that i can't dodge every hit but I can learn to take a punch. If you stick with me and tell me sweet nothings, maybe I'll even teach you how to throw one. Just remember that when they tell you good dogs don't bite it's a dirty fucking lie.

I don't think it's that I love the fight. I think it's that I don't know how to do anything else. Quiet days ruffle my feathers, dead air makes me itch. Contentedness is the newest form of monotony and kindness looks last season on you, so you can drop the act. Peace is hell when you're not accustomed to it. People who sit on their porch and read paperbacks in the sun must be living on another planet. Welcome To Earth, We're All Mad Here. They should have given me the memo. I'm running circles in my mind, around around around. There's a drone like a hornets nest, like the fading sound of a clock striking 3 am, like the buzzing in your ears when the music's up too loud. There's no one left in the ring but me. Maybe I should tap out. Maybe I should tear myself apart, one last fight. Maybe I should leave and never come back. Maybe I should go to sleep. (Maybe I don't want to leave yet. Thats the worst part)

[romeored]

Just paint it all red

The present is never as gold as last summer seems. We were on top of the world, and now we're under it. Dont worry. Copper shines like gold under the right light and I've always been good at playing pretend. Copper days and golden memories. Your tin heart and my broken one. We match like ravens and writing desks.

I need to know if you thought about me at all today. The summer heat keeps me up at night, but it doesn't make me toss and turn the way you do. The heat is suffocating - or is that regret? Either way, they both remind me of you. Who's more guilty: the coward or the traitor? I should have stayed a conscientious objector. You live under my skin. It only seems fair that I should be taking up residence in yours.

Loving you is (was?) like loving a black hole. I watch you rip yourself apart, over and over and over, but I'm barely in orbit anymore. A few more revolutions and I'll forget I was ever in your pull and you can keep crushing yourself under the weight of your own gravity. I remember when you were a star. I remember when you didnt try to chew up the world and swallow it too. I remember when you danced. You were golden, for a while. (I think i was too) If you ever get sick of trying to eat yourself alive, I'll be here.

[romeored]

Daisies, or something

What's the point of dying pretty? I've heard vanity's a sin, but she's all I got left. Maybe I'm not better off dead but I'm definitely worse off alive. Don't put your trust in me. I don't know where it's been. I'm sorry I don't want to be what you want me to be. I'm sorry I don't want to be a doll (nevertheless, you're still trying to play dress up). We'd both love me more if I was plastic. (She loves me)

The pen is mightier than the sword but those who live by it still die the same. Who's the bigger fool? Run far enough east and you start going west. What happens if I run far enough from you? Am I on the straight and narrow or coming full circle? Sheathe the sword and cap the pen. I'm choosing the coward's way out. (She loves me not)

I wish I could say I miss when I believed in fairytales, but I've always been too cynical for Santa Claus. I let you tell them because it makes you feel better to think I believe. Lies always taste better when mixed with honey, don't you think? My words have never tasted sweeter than when I'm with you. Cotton candy and pixie dust and make believe. The truth is so very bitter. It's better this way. (She loves me)

Call me legend, call me legion, call me anytime you want. It's not like I can stop you. (She loves me not)

[romeored]

What was that about horseshoe crabs?

Luck is a lady and she's out of my league. I'm a an angel who fell and then got tangled up in a power line on the way down. I'm your thirteenth pair of snake eyes in a row. I'm sleeping under ladders and running with black cats. I make broken mirrors look like a four leaf clovers. Cross your fingers when I cross your path. Spit over your shoulder too. Once bitten, twice shy, and better safe than sorry.

Underdogs don't stay underdogs forever. You either end up on top or out of the fight. They said this is your cross, so grin and bear it. My jaw is aching and my lips are cracking and I'm starting to stumble when I swing. Unlucky in love and in war, but all's fair, right?

You either leave first or get left behind. We all know what you chose. Tonight I'll wrap my car around a telephone pole on memory lane, the same one I got caught in all those years ago. See you there, ok?

[romeored]

The dust here sticks to you like tar.

The hills are full of women that no one will ever see again. Watch your step, and dont make eye contact with the ones who made it back. They're not the same. Is the blood you spilled still red if no one saw it? This is a place for leaving, not living. Not loving.

I wish I could believe in anything without seeing it bleed first. I'm tired of only loving with the taste of metal in my mouth. I'm tired of only being real when you twist the knife. Coyote in wolf's clothing, and the pack is circling closer. They haven't noticed that my teeth aren't sharp enough yet.

[romeored]

I think I'll sit this one out

The latchkey kids and the left behinds are writing scriptures on the alley walls, prophets with thin wrists and colder fingers. The future is written in spray paint (if you can read the handwriting) and oracles are a dime a dozen these days. Ravens don't bring tidings anymore but I think the shoes on the telephone wire will tell the same story.

Maybe if I say it enough times it'll be true: I've never wanted to be real boy. I've never wanted to be a real boy. I'm happy to be a toy you outgrew. I've never wanted to be a real boy. A few more repetitions and maybe I'll even believe myself. I'm content with my wooden heart. If I'd told the truth you'd never have loved me and if I'd lied you'd never have known, so I did us both a favor and kept my mouth shut. It's a vicious cycle. Loneliness is a lover and I know her inside and out. I've never seen a star fall but I think you might be close enough. Make a wish, say a prayer, take a number.

Last of a dying breed or the first of something new? Doesn't matter. Same result either way. Extinction is in the air and it's been years since I've been in a fight. Would you like to change that? Hit me in the teeth and watch me spit cherry syrup in the snow. Triple-dog-dare-you.

Every slash yields only splinters - wooden girl, remember? I've never wanted to be a real boy, I promise.