xoxo, nico

i wrote out my rent check and i have four whole dollars in my bank account. i’ve been broke for so long its turned into gangrene and they’ll have to amputate because the depth of this infection takes over everything even if there was a slight chance the wholes will heal. everything i had has shattered into a million pieces and whatever was priceless has been buried underneath a pile of needles.

free spirit costs a pretty penny. one out of seven of these accomplishments i claim had nothing to do with me. the reason why my name is attached to them comes directly from some random connection. the most valuable lesson i’ve learned is to keep the right people a far cry from the ones who pretend to have compassion. does anyone who claims i give too much away count for anything anyway??? they’re the one’s who will come running the next time i spiral into the depths of my disposition, maybe. they’re the ones who will sit at home catching up on tivo wondering why the fuck service is expensive.

there’s a mean time and there’s the time being but in my world it just seems like time has just been mean to me. i ran out of it hours, days, weeks, months, and ages ago. i wasted it all laying in bed waiting for you to come calling. i wonder if you heard what i had done. i wonder if you care that i may as well be in a coffin or if you’re the one silently punishing me for my actions. go ahead and try to make me feel guilty. try to make me feel like i’m the one that did something wrong. i can justify anything i do while you’re blinking your eye and out of the corner you’ll see me as i’m leaving sneaking out the back door but you can’t come after me because you’re sustained by the grip of the girl you picked while you tried to get even. its too late to feel sorry and it takes to much energy to hate being in the same time at the same place. you are to blame for the demons you swallow like the larva floating at the bottom of the tequila bottle.

he asked out princess but come to find out from a little birdie called abby road mr. wonderful has been in bed with her flatmate for the last few months swooning her before hand with champagne and oysters. i told duchess and she said he has been pursuing her cousin and i just ran into him with his ex-girlfriend looking like they were in love. opening night of james bond he tried to get in my pants but i said no due to my own personal reasons. princess was in love with his conversation then and couldn’t understand why i would pass up the perfect potential lover. maybe it was because i know something you don’t know or i got bored and i would bet money that he never deleted those incriminating photos of me in a pianos bathroom off his i phone. subconsciously we’re all in love with fucking the player but unfortunately we trip then hope we don’t fall and this is the reason all of our knees end up covered in blood.

danger

…feels so good.

evidently my addiction has not subsided. he remains present and I will be seeing him this week.

i have no soul it seems.

no soul or self control.

now i lay me
down to sleep

i pray the lord
my soul to keep

if i die
before i wake

i pray the lord
my soul to take

we got to the point that instead of looking into each others eyes we sit across and catch a sideways glance. it’s so much safer to spill our guts on clicking keys instead of face these things but then the outcome ends up nothing. no climax in connection, unstated understanding, no crooked smirk that means they know that you know that they know…remember the park times, the one lines, the sad signs, the bonding crimes? so now what? i get exhausted just remembering what it was like to feel something in my gut. its exhausting just thinking of starting it with someone new and afraid of it bringing me back to that same old scene where the moment is unnatural but utterly romantic. maybe i’ll think its different, like this is new, this is not you…a free fall in connection, unstated understanding, a crooked smirk that meant that he knew that i knew that he knew. another humdrum run to run. so what if I drink a bottle a day, or drift away. there is nothing left to say.