Pretty Feral

I am not all the things I used to be. Nor do I desire to be them.I'll spend my time singing to the trees. RIGHT NOW!There is a lot going on up here.All those empty promises made by people, friends, family, everyone. Songs and poems, pictures...It's all just the material lie. And I'm tired of listening to the bullshit.I relate to a green women. I relate to the blonde woman. And the bottom line...Nobody tells me what the fuck to do.I DON'T WANT TO BE DOMESTICATED! UNACCEPTABLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!I'm not sad about this.I am not the stories I tell. I can fabricate life that's not mine. I have. And do. When it suits me.And I don't talk to the half the people I used to know.I WILL lose touch with you. But know you are collected.I thought I wanted a simple life. But no. Not at all. I don't want location. I move. Dirt is for dead people.I am happy here in this moment, alone. A little afraid maybe. Apprehensive. A little twinge I feel in my breath. This is scary. But so doable.And like that one homicidal guy I HAVE to embrace this maddness. I have to keep that wall fresh. You're with spooky.I like...stuff. Who cares. We all like stuff.I'm walking.I'm not showing off. You're not even here! All you people that think you're around me? (Don't be offended.) No ones here. No audience.Oh my god. It's me. Hi. I...I know what I want to do. I know where I'm going. I know it's okay.But I am tired of repeats. I saw that. It was clearly stated there in the evidence.My record stopped skipping. Not too late. Not too early.I'm not seeking.I feel humbled before life. My really little life. Thats going to be awesome. For me.No more joy rides. I don't need anyone. Because I am capable of doing everything on my own.I am amazing. Just because I am.
Coming to the conclusion that I am the contradiction of everything I say; An angry liar who identifies with an unforgiving illness. A bubbly smiling idiot who chatters like a child. A philosopher who's best thoughts are usually during incoherency. A perverse and morbid female who is fascinated with the profound idea of pushing her thumbs into the eyes sockets of another person. A delusional fairy tale obsessed innocent surrounded by love inspired ideals. A relation to many, fitting, adapting, adjusting to any place and anytime.
If a person is developed by the experience they’ve accumulated in a life time then I am everything and nothing. If everything I have done and seen encompasses who I am then I am you all. Fatalistic and practical I’ll be the one saving lives in the end.
I'm a false idol. A bohemian lady friend. And a moon follower. Not all love. Not all bad.
I am half and half. Half Jill & Half Jack. Sensitive. And sociopath. But what I want to be...is unconditional. In all things if that makes sense. And for a while it was all sunshine and pink. Bubbles and cotton.
Happily Morbid.
I've got no true gender. My mind is both. And neither. My body is disconnected from the earth but the third eye is always active. Dulls the rest of my senses though. I believe everything happens for a reason. And nothing is coincidence. I'm in love with natural water. And I love the darkness. The unknown fascinates me when so little in this world does. There is always more to say but...
My name is A u t u m n. I am a dangerous woman. And ever so slightly addictive.
" "...Cute as can be but carries a machete. And she giggles when she kills, psycho bubbly laughing. Like carbonated blood. But she's real sweet. Like karo syrup..." "
You can be near me if it pleases you. There is more to me than meets expectation or even what I so carefully parade around as to who I am. Just another creation. With another brain malfunction.
Hidden kisses. silver thimbles. morning sunlight. clear crystals splaying rainbows. silver opal. glittery letters. frothy white sea foam. summer time soap bubbles. pink switchblades. banjo sounds. peacock colors. fresh strawberries. tattoo guns.
I wanna sit out with the moon before she forgets my name.
The world leaves me broken hearted.
God:"I'm not mad (at humanity), I'm just disappointed ...
I wanna believe in fairy tales, so badly my whole soul hurts.
I am very protective and possessive over people I adore. There are not to many people I adore. But the few I do, I’d do anything for.
Ivy Walker:
When we are married, will you dance with me? I find dancing very agreeable. Why can you not say what is in your head?
Lucius Hunt:
Why can you not stop saying what is in yours? Why must you lead, when I want to lead? If I want to dance I will ask you to dance. If I want to speak I will open my mouth and speak. Everyone is forever plaguing me to speak further. Why? What good is it to tell you you are in my every thought from the time I wake? What good can come from my saying that I sometimes cannot think clearly or do my work properly? What gain can rise of my telling you the only time I feel fear as others do is when I think of you in harm? That is why I am on this porch, Ivy Walker. I fear for your safety before all others. And yes, I will dance with you on our wedding night.
Clementine: Joely?
Joel: Yeah Tangerine?
Clementine: Am I ugly?
Joel: Uh-uh.
Clementine: When I was a kid, I thought I was. I can't believe I'm crying already.
Sometimes I think people don't understand how lonely it is to be a kid, like you don't matter. So, I'm eight, and I have these toys, these dolls.
My favorite is this ugly girl doll who I call Clementine, and I keep yelling at her, "You can't be ugly! Be pretty!" It's weird, like if I can transform her, I would magically change, too.
Joel:You're pretty.
Clementine: Joely, don't ever leave me.
Joel: You're pretty... you're pretty... pretty...
But it's hard to stay mad when there's so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once, and it's too much. My heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst ...
And then I remember ... to relax, and not try to hold on to it. And then it flows through me like rain. And I can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life. You have no idea what I'm talking about, I'm sure. Don't worry ... you will someday.
How can they complain that we're all fucked up kids when they keep on changing who our mother is?
Surgically wired into paradise God, I love communicating! I just hate the shit we're missing...
Cause stripped of your equipment you'll be forced to face yourself...
I've been feeling dull as a coat hanger.
I've been getting damn good at hiding it.
Should I choose a noble occupation... If I did I'd only show up late and sick and they would stare at me with hatred. Plus my only natural talent's wasted on my alcoholic friends.
(I’m) Seven on a scale from dead to breathing.
That I'm not the carefullest of girls. And it looks like I am shaking. If I were any older I could act my age. But I don't think that you'd believe me.
And I've got some issues to work through.
There I go again... Pretending to be you... Make-believing....
And the bruises on my thighs. And the knots in my hair.
Don't call the doctors cause they've seen it all before! They'll say
"Just
Let
Her
Crash
And
Burn!
She'll learn the attention just encourages her..."
In the time it takes to break it she can make up ten excuses... “Please excuse her for the day, its just the way the medication makes her...”
I don't necessarily believe there is a cure for this.
So don't tell me what to write and don't tell me that I'm wrong!
But the ugly marks are worth the momentary gain...
And sappy songs about sex and cheating... Bland accounts of two lovers meeting...
Make me want to give mankind a beating!
Thank you for your pity, you are too kind....(Fuck you.)
They floated here.. but walked home !
Musica