One True Thing

There are two kinds. Good and bad. Fear. Pain. Love. Need. Always two kinds, this scale of balance. Good. Bad. Open. Closed. Like my eyes.

Breathing becomes harder when imagining tracing my skin with sharpened edges. I want to wear a razorblade necklace, to live my life in such sharp relief, to ink my expreiences under the collective skin of the universe.

Can I trust that I will not bleed?

Two kinds. Good. Bad. Pain. Fear. This is both, and neither. I fall to my knees to worship what? A feeling? An instinct? An adrenaline rush? I can not tell, but what is lost in my confusion is made up for in my willingness to please.

This is what it feels like to walk the rope between pain and imagining. If only I could be so proud of all my scars.




	One True Thing in the ocean of noise Home Get Email Updates not the passenger and somewhere alfie smiles I used to have a hamster tree and the man with the golden gun lily is dancing on the table the room of the banished poet but you're not here I want to paint it black if you can come to california till human voices wake us Email Me Admin Password Remember Me 6098 Curiosities served Share on Facebook				2002-05-01 1:45 AM Sharp Relief Previous Entry :: Next Entry Mood: liscentious There are two kinds. Good and bad. Fear. Pain. Love. Need. Always two kinds, this scale of balance. Good. Bad. Open. Closed. Like my eyes. Breathing becomes harder when imagining tracing my skin with sharpened edges. I want to wear a razorblade necklace, to live my life in such sharp relief, to ink my expreiences under the collective skin of the universe. Can I trust that I will not bleed? Two kinds. Good. Bad. Pain. Fear. This is both, and neither. I fall to my knees to worship what? A feeling? An instinct? An adrenaline rush? I can not tell, but what is lost in my confusion is made up for in my willingness to please. This is what it feels like to walk the rope between pain and imagining. If only I could be so proud of all my scars. Previous Entry :: Next Entry Back to Top