Forreal.

[xunpredictablel]

|TITLE| Untitled.
|RATING| R, perhaps . . . lots of implications towards blood and cutting .
|THEME| Angst -
|NOTES| Depressed, I wanna know if anyone gets what i mean when you read the BOLDED verses .

notice the face in the mirror and voice in the microphone-
but it's the face and voice of a stranger - - *
a stranger looked down upon- uninvited- unfavored - black cloak covering the nasty face with blue eyes fading underneath.
you're a fool underneath that shield- that facade. you act better than them out of exhaustion- everyone laughing at your attempts. . .
you blush and look away from your face and voice on the screen- hoping no one else is listening- no one else is paying attention- no one else hears that hideous attempt at words- that hideous attempt at a face*
your hands shake at self-loathing- rage at how much better you could have done - perfectionist -
not white enough- few too many clouds and not enough sunlight- the sky's not blue enough and your face isn't pretty enough. with hands flying to your face-
take me AWAY to a pretty land with vibrant colors and burning sand- horizon is a perfect mix of sky and sun- water and sand- you drag me over ocean, drag me over land.
hands are a comfort when i'm mutilated- pass over blood and dilute it- make it less extensive- fly me less expensive . . . (expense being health and bleeding words-)

then i fall back into the stone cold embrace of reality- with your eyes piercing and threatening. . .
-selfesteem turns to self mutilation under the hands of you.
dripping arms are a consolation from your words.


your names are unimportant-but mine is too .

[ANNARR IS ZEE GREATEST ?!]

MARVELLOUS. Simple as, I understand the bolded print I THINK. Anyway, I'll admit the layout perhaps confused me slightly, but the words, lovely bitter words, oh my!

[xunpredictablel]

Well, I'd like to know what you think it all means.
If that's not too much to ask, hehe.

[Alicia's Ghost]

Wow. Annarr is quite right when she says this is marvelous. I read this, and it left such a sour taste in my mouth, though I'm not quite sure if bitter is what comes to mind. It's more like acid, a visceral distaste for someone who has done you wrong by merely existing.

With the inconsistency of grammar, I see such a growth of hatred, of ugliness that they can't be coherent in speaking it. Images come quick, come hard and angry and all the narrator can do is spit them out like toxic stone, hoping that by expelling it, it'll heal them. "it's the face and voice of a stranger - - * a stranger looked down upon- uninvited- unfavored - black cloak covering the nasty face with blue eyes fading underneath." One image, one hatred, but so many different details as if the narrator cannot stand to look too long, cannot sit still and take in every detail. There is only him and in that, the only restraint that keeps the narrator from tearing him apart is this ability to only skim over thoughts of him.

Until the bold. Not just physically bolder of print, it is the bolder emotions which make themselves known: The bold, darker thoughts, coherent thoughts, spiteful thoughts. These sum up the men, the boys, the one him in this person's life. In it, the true ugliness, the true worm that has knotted up in their gut squirms up to reveal itself as the narrator's own tongue. And it goes on, as if the second person, though so different is really the same, and in that sameness there is that sour taste that forms bile. Less anger now, but still that emotion, that weariness of having to deal with this. "take me AWAY to a pretty land with vibrant colors and burning sand- horizon is a perfect mix of sky and sun- water and sand- you drag me over ocean, drag me over land." The narrator wants to leave, wants to disappear and leave yesterday behind them, with a brighter tomorrow, but it cannot happen, and though the narrator deludes themselves, they know deep down it'll never happen. They're in the shit, and there isn't any getting out of it. The bold are a double narration. The first of the sights, the second of the sounds -- the thoughts that grow and surge.

In the end, I cannot help but think the narrator is talking about herself as much as she is talking about him.

Truly marvelous; I'm ashamed to think I almost missed this piece.

[xunpredictablel]

Oh, yes, oh my ! You certainly understood quite a bit of it ! I was talking to so many people yesterday, wondering if they'd understand what I meant when I wrote this and you got so much of it . A brighter, unattainable tomorrow, yes. Because a brighter future feels so far away from my reach that I hate to bother even trying anymore .

Oh, my. I don't even know what to say to that. I'm so excited because you understood so much of it, although it was honestly about the narrator was talking about herself the entire time. One thing you'll see with much of my work is how I use second person. I use it obsessively, talking to myself from a different aspect, a different body as if that makes the disgust I have in myself somewhat less extreme and extensive. It's incredible, honestly- and leads to so much good writing.

Oh, thank you. Really.