what kind of life would this be without the vibrating hum of the white moon filling up the entire navy blue silence of the world when it all becomes just too silent. because there is a difference between silent and too silent. silent is beautiful, silent is beneficial. too silent is cold-hearted and drives you insane after a while.
listening to placebo while thinking of you seems far safer than being out there with him and getting smashed and seeing luke get so drunk he hits on other guys. and ruining my reputation and looking like a slut and explaining my crawling skin to anyone who will listen. and only lauren will know what the fuck i am on about.
i thought jacqui would understand if i blurted it all out, because god, i was so close to throwing it all up, but then i heard damien telling lauren it was all for attention and i felt like ripping the fucking science book up in front of me because that great pink and black boulder above my head was slowly dropping downwards.
yeah, english rain does seem to last for ages, and i would know, because those three months i spent there were like that all the time. on second thoughts, i was only there in winter so just screw my last comments and walk on by. you always walk on by, don't you? we had eye contact that one time and you just killed it all.
like how you murdered your pretty blonde hair that was so gorgeous i could just cry. when you dyed it black i felt like kicking you in the nuts and running away, insulting placebo in the process. but i don't think i could ever insult placebo. not just cause you like them, but you know, they have some pretty damn good songs.
i would sing you the three days grace song but i'm not completely sure yet if i hate or if i love you or if i can even be bothered to care. and don't try and tell me that writing this poem to you proves i more than care, because i'm only writing it to you since i'm too scared to confront this whole "him" thing, you're the way out.
in case it dies away before i can grasp it by the neck and squeeze it til it's within an inch of its life. but you're damn smart, and that scares me i think, because i'm so used to guys being stupid and not being able to read between the lines, but i read your screenplay and you're doing four unit english so it's a whole different issue.
and even girls can be fucking idiots at times, like when sarah and jacqui told our whole group that victoria was pregnant and they were all so freaked out. and even i was, even i stood there with my mouth open, until i realised it was april fools' day but i told everyone and still they half-believed it. i sort of did, and i stood there
going "jesus christ, what's she going to do? she's under sixteen, so she can't get an abortion without her parents' consent" and janelle was concerned as well. and she didn't think it was an april fools' because she couldn't believe they would joke about such a thing. but yeah, they did, and it was kind of stupid,
but hey, it worked. see, i told you girls have screwed up minds at times. cause we all knew victoria when she was here and hell, the only time she'd kissed a guy was when she was leaving forever and she told graham she liked him and they pashed and it was the whole "live for the moment thing". victoria, pregnant?
but my blood, god my blood, has been spilt so many times on things like this. things like you being so different to him and everyone around me breathing clean air while i breathe the greasy stuff. and the scent of fake consciousness while all this shit is happening just accentuates my headache and asphalt sore throat.
written: Friday 2nd April 2004, 10:09pm
Thanks 
"There are as many definitions of poetry as there are poets. Wordsworth defined poetry as "the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings."
Poetry is a lot of things to a lot of people. Perhaps the characteristic most central to the definition of poetry is its unwillingness to be defined, labeled, or nailed down." - Mark Flanagan.
all i can say is it's very dizzying and i don't mind the lack of captials it adds to the streaming thoughts feel. i can see why it might not be considered poetry but i wouldn't know what else to call it.
Not a very ordinary--analogy; I guess you would call it. However, it was interesting. I picked out a couple of things that I would like to remember. But I do find to mistakes. One, its take a way when you don't capitalize your letters and it becomes irretating and two, I don't think this goes in the poem section.
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