Fallen
Tuesday, Oct. 02, 2012 5:21 PM

�All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

- J.R.R. Tolkien

Lately, I can't seem to keep my mind still. Every little thing I'm thinking feels like it needs to be put down on paper. Grab a pencil. Jot it down. Don't stop there. Just keep writing. No pencil nearby? Well, hopefully you'll remember what you were thinking so you can type it out later. Just don't stop. Just keep thinking.

Cornered.

Random things. Uncontrollable thoughts. They're all pouring forth like a thousand conversations going on inside my head, a dozen diary entries being written, revised, and continued until my mind has moved on to the next random thought and I can't remember what I was thinking about to begin with.

Numb.

I'm writing stories inside my head. Conversations taking place between two characters. They're arguing. They're fighting. They're being serious. They're being funny. They love to talk and they know exactly the right words to say to each other. Now they're making love because its all they know. It's all they want to know. They're always so dramatic, those two.

Fake.

I need to write this down. I need to grab a pen and I need to jot it across my skin. Smooth skin. Pale skin. Skin just begging to be flawed. Words spread across it, hidden underneath my clothing. Bright blue ink. Dark black words. Bleeding red. Don't let anybody know. They won't understand.

Idiotic.

Come on, you. You know you want to do it. Your skin's just a canvas waiting to be touched. You need to be branded.

Across your stomach - Unpretty

Across your wrist - Alone

Across your chest - Empty

Across your arm - Scarred

Across your thigh - Raped

Across your leg - Exposed

Bad girl. Naughty girl. Dirty little whore.

See that scar across your hand? Trail it with your fingertip. You did that to yourself. Do you remember? Of course you do. How could you forget? Did it feel good when you grabbed that knife? Did you feel powerful? In control? Did you like it when the blade tapped your skin? Pierced your skin? Dug in deep? I know it hurt, but it felt good, right? Sure it did. No, it didn't. Yes, it did. NO!

Bad girl. Naughty girl. Dirty little whore.

Isolated.

I feel like my skin's on fire. Touch me there, I might explode. Fingers cold.

I'm not like them. I'm not like them. I'm not like them. I'm not like them. I'm not like them. I'm not like them. I'm not like them. I'm not.

Warm breath. Shallow breath. Deep breath.

Sold.

Open your eyes. Lick your lips. Wiggle your fingers then your toes. Spread your legs. Skins on fire. Touch you there. Fingers cold.

Explode.

Bad girl. Naughty girl. Dirty little whore.