like lace more than anything.

the only day you've asked to see me in a month was the day you needed a ride.

which i don't mind giving you, but you have to admit it sounds sad that way, and sometimes i wonder why you got mad that i tried to leave, when you never tell me to come around, when every time you get back with him it looks like you've left me, and it makes me feel small.

well, i understand you probably don't mean anything bad by it and i know you're busy being a kid in like, but can you see why it stings?

this girl gets visibly uncomfortable when i talk about being gay, but she's home for only two weeks, has a dozen other good friends who wouldn't think to argue with her about racism or feminism or guns the way i do-- and she's been sure i've seen her twice already.

and i like you both, for your different reasons. she makes me feel wanted, even when she's not in town, and you make me feel alive, when you stop by.

but i'm still lonely sometimes and i've hurt myself again thinking about it; we're all full of holes.

spice cabinet monsters.

you smell like you wish you smelled like cigarettes,
you smell like my dirty brassy fingertips,
you smell like mold.

i'm not sure what you think you are,
but this is no forest;
darling, these are the suburbs
you've found yourself in.

and you stole the cinnamon and the nutmeg,
so i can't taste winter like hot coals anymore.

thank god it's nearly over.

(the worst feelings are creeping back.)

blahblahblah
the usual
passive aggressive
lonely grievances.

i just hate how you make me feel.

or i just need more friends.

i just need more medicine.

i just need more sleep.

sleep sleep sleep sleep sleep
until i forget their names.

if only i could stay asleep.

i'm gay though.

i really don't like muscular male builds.
everything about them makes me
uncomfortable.