Here's another short photo diary.... i thought this photo I took was very dreamy. here's another poem I wrote:
Everything is a mess.
And I can't help but make a fool out of myself.
Everything I touch slips away and slowly decays
into a body I left in the grave last week.
it was in the morning
that much is true.
I remember the googly-eyes eggs
staring back at me
and the lukewarm coffee tasted all wrong
in my sandpaper mouth spitting out sour words of
"I'm just trying."
And I don't like breakfast
that much I do remember
since the day I pulled the silver needle
through the hem of my white dress
that grazed my weak bloody ankles
that have walked a thousand miles
just to leave a flower on the heart of my tomb.
And daisies are my favorite.
But a rose would suffice too.
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