my name

is synonymous with philophobia

filled with self-loathing, narcissism, and trepidation

barely a phenomenon

causing cessation with every entrance into every room

demanding attention only to push it away

constantly in a quandary 

always at a crossroads

working hard to stir on

a forgetful fogey, yet

newfangled nonsense at it’s finest

It is of Old French and Latin origin, and its meaning is “beloved”.  Anglicized form of the Old French Amee, meaning “beloved”, which originated as a nickname from the Latin Amata, from “amare”, meaning “to love”. 

 

all this in only three letters?

three

takes only three seconds for my eyes to lose complete focus and go blurry

takes only three spins to get me in front of the bathroom sink

only three shooting stars to make my night perfect

three dollars to buy myself a large, black, iced coffee

 

takes a whole lot more to inspire my mind 

takes a whole lot more to get myself writing again

reputation

days and days

she said, “this is me before i fall apart.” as he held her so close she could barely breathe

breakdown breakdown, but he never let go

seems to good to be true to her broken past but it’s more real than anything has ever felt

they sat stacked upon rows and rows of broken hearts and broken promises

time stopped

it could’ve been one minute, or one century

neither were sure, all they knew is that they never wanted to leave this feeling behind

so tired, so cold

a cooling breeze cut the tip of their tongues off

they kissed and they kissed until the sun rose

but nothing changed with the new day coming

they remained in bed for another and nothing mattered still

two became one as they came together

only to fall apart all over again

hardly the ending they desired for

actingout

acting out of character

speaking with a dirty tounge

he makes her feel like a virgin

young as she is, innocent as she seems

it’s not even a lie and that’s so strange

she thinks, too good to be true

now, you understand?

i doubt it

 

you do though

she’s sure of it

 

 

so with her small, pink lips she mumbles, “nice to meet you” and kisses you as if she actually knows how

thinking she’s done it wrong, no, it feels so right

rushed dancing in sheets followed by a much needed shower to wash off her sins

 

but she never believed in god anyway, like you suddenly do in her

yes, it’s nice to meet you

teeth

bite, chomp, munch, naw, nibble, nip

no matter the word you use

it always gets me off

 

one could simply put his teeth to my shoulder, to my neck, and send shock waves though my entire being

it’s the rush of pain mixed so perfectly with pleasure that makes it so enjoyable 

it’s animalistic

teeth, used by carnivorous animals to rip open the flesh of their prey 

tantric orgasm

climax

moan

 

feels    so    good

there’s a girl out there who’s looking for it too

NOTHING MAKES SENSE ANYMORE

chills

hot flashes

i’m an elastic band

so flexible

so limber

techo beats and dark rooms

i can’t handle the noise but i need it

hands all over me and lips kissing me

i like the way that you whisper in my ear

 

be quiet, listen to the night

readwritedrugssleepsmokecoffee

 

used to be a coke fiend

now i’m just a fool

i’ve got no clue

so fucking special

 

wake up, exhausted.

every time i closed my eyes to go to sleep last night my mind took me to another place, another country.

africa, china, england, iraq

i’ve got the chills now and no appetite 

i’m shaking and my body feels all funny and fucked up

i close my eyes and try to replay the night

remember everything

it’s a blur

barely can recall what i was wearing cos, well, i was high when i put it on 

my room is a mess and i haven’t the slightest idea how that happened again

usually, i lie around in bed feeling all funny at the end of the night and think, “i’ll clean now.” i proceed to stand up, fall over, and think, “nah, i can’t clean.” but i also laugh a lot like HAHAHAHAHA and pretend i’m a spacecraft. i just keep saying, “i’m an alien!” 

time moves by so fast and i never seem to be conscious of the ticking of a clock

so i don’t leave my room from the second i get home. only to get cranberry juice and say two words to my father. everything feels so strange and i don’t even remember how to walk down the stairs but i do it with such ease that i am shocked to see the first floor dining room to my left already. i just keep touching everything. my body, my bed, my carpet, my hair, my face. all feels so good. now my jaw is chattering and my hands and shaking even more. i need to get some sleep but i can’t. so tired, yet, so wired. 

breathe me

 

weird shit

good shit

never a bad trip

had a dream i was talking to some kids on a street corner

i was a drug dealer or they were

either way, it was strange

MIX MIX MIX

we kept talking about what drugs to take together

i think it’s cos i had a conversation similar earlier about never ever mixing drugs cos that’s bad

 

my mind is still high but my body is semi-functioning 

my thoughts are still out of control but my fingers are working so well to type the words out

 

i talk about things i shouldn’t

as well as do thing i shouldn’t

and i never cry

 

ever feel like you want to scream but you can’t even open your mouth?
yeah, that’s me right now

 

and to top it all off, i have a headache.

back                       to                  sleep 

so generic

my skin pulls tight tight tight

when i close my eyes i see a man climbing a mountain with a tall walking stick in his hand. if you look close enough, he is an older gentlemen, face washed-out by the heartbreak and the letdowns. he stands tall at six foot four, seventy years young. he tells me of the life he once lived, “only once will you fall in love” he says. and i cry cos i think, “shit, only once? have i used it already?” NO. no. course not. don be silly amy.

music vibrates through my skin and i see a girl in a striped tank top. her hands hold each other on top of her head and she looks at me as if she knows. knows everything about me. all of my secrets. she has something quite sexual about her.

 

THE PRESSURE ON MY BACK COULD KILL

the blood that i bleed, you wish it ran through your veins

i swear you’ll never understand the way i work

 

PAINT ME

I AM YOUR CANVAS

PAINT ON MY BODY

THE LOVE YOU THOUHT YOU COULD NEVER GIVE

give it all to me\paint it all onto my body

 

art is art is art. write you words in ink on my thighs. tell me how i am the only one who knows this side o you. go crazy with me. rip off my clothes and set fire to my insides. it’s been too long for you, it’s been never for me, since we’ve fallen in love.

 

 

suddenly it doesn’t seem like such a horrible idea to just stop. if i fall on the ground in front of you and you finally notice me, could this be the start of ‘us’

 

 

TOO MANY THOUGHTS.

she’s an angel working on god’s train. she’s an angel working on me.

“you’re my flowers and sunshine”

I get all high and I dance so seductively. And I just want someone’s hands all over me. More foreplay than ever. Make me moan without even touching me. The world spins and I guess it’s all right, I’d rather have it that way. One eye closed and I see the stars, the moon. If only I could get to my roof. Maybe life ain’t so bad, the moon still wakes up every night, so can I. My thoughts are all just a mess, the clouds before a storm. My typing is horrendous and I have forgotten the spelling of every word. Thank God or spell checker

There’s a certain tradgey in line with an affair. But damn it feels so good.

 

 

I am the other girl. 

Did I forget to mention that earlier?

 

I need someone’s weight on me. I want to feel everything.

Shut up!

I am always like this when I am high. I need to feel every possible feeling. My thoughts are so jumbled. I need to get myself out of this mess of a room and onto a bridge in the city. I’d like to stand as if I were going to jump and FEEL SOMETHING.