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littlemissinvisble

It's a bubbly life ^~^

Title 

Trembling at 5:54 a.m.                               Led Zeppelin a mere whisper.                Static. 

Senior year? Adult? I’m not ready…it’s too much. I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’m not me anymore. 

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Manic pixie dream girl. 

A bubbly cinematic stock character Under the paint of carousel lights    A perfect impresssionistic painting A beautiful face, but not in the way one would think so. 

Pointillism marks encompass your entire being darling.                             Glass jagged it imprinted all the lies you told yourself into your skin.           You were a manic pixie dream girl, but didn’t serve any purpose in his plotline. 

Everything. 

This darling is all the fucked up things you ever said to me over the course of our 6 months together. I’m just jotting them down real quick to release them from my thoughts. 
Here: 

“I wish I had never taken you to meet my mom.” 

“What future? You don’t have one.” 

“Don’t spread your diseases to other people.” 

“Just do your work a favor and end yourself you’re worthless.” 

“I love you.” 

“Oh are you just going to shut down.” 

“How typical the silent treatment.” 

“You suck at doggy style.” 

“Well aren’t you a joy to be around in the morning.” 

“We’re never going out to eat again you can’t even fucking finish your food.” 

To be continued whenever you manipulate me into staying with you. I know the game…act nice until I fall back into the trap. 

Hi, 4th of July. 

The universe fucked me over. I didn’t consent to it. Does that technically mean the universe raped me? Damn. Shit. 

I was dizzy and tripping over my own feet. Everything was spinning. My eyesight was blurry. It was an impressionistic painting. I wanted realism, but I’m not sure I’m even in touch with that anymore. Reality. I collapsed against the shower wall and look at you water dripped. down both of us. I scraped against the wall and you washed me off. I could feel peach-a-Rita ready to make its way back up the wrong way, but I kept still. 

“Get your balance in check before we go to fireworks.” 

“Stay close to me that way there won’t be any trouble,” you scolded. 

Why would there be trouble? Some hoodrat kid wouldn’t do anything in front of all these people. Would they? I was dressed somewhat appropriately. With this generation there isn’t appropriate. 

Golden pixie dust glistened from the heavens over and over again. I leaned up against you. I didn’t think I believed in soul mates, but maybe I did. 

Today. 

The day started out well. My parents were gone on a trip to Michigan which made me very happy. I could do as I pleased and saw fit. I saw the new pirates of the Caribbean movie. It was amazing I’ll have you know. Tied for first place with the first one for sure. I got out of the movie and turned my phone back on and there’s a text and a missed call. Get home and she starts screaming at me and mocking me about my cigarettes she found from rifling through my dresser. I proceeded to yell at her that she should’ve stayed in Michigan cause I don’t want her here. 

1 a.m. He comes to get me in his red car. We drive into the night and I talk to him in a raspy voice because it feels like there’s a golf ball lodged in there. I tell him things like I replaced cutting with smoking and the point was to hurt myself and my health. I feel more calm. We cruise around for a little bit. We end up in a church parking lot. I hate religion because of my parents and upbringing. He gently grabs my hands and pulls me out of the passenger seat into the night. His hands are all over my body and the stress goes away. He opens the back door and I bend over obediently. It’s a literal fuck you to “god.” 

“Fuck me like a dirty little whore daddy,” I whined. He pulls my red hair and I feel lost in the moment. My phone is sitting in the passenger seat. 

“Baby?” The screen lit up. I feel no sense of guilt. You’re insane and you hurt me. I don’t want you to touch me ever again, but you had to come into my work and harass me and now you’re ruining my euphoria. Earlier I had said I would start taking care of myself and that sleeping around didn’t help, but it felt so good with him. It felt right. It doesn’t feel right with you anymore. It never felt right. I never felt safe and was always afraid you would hurt me. You did hurt me, I wasn’t wrong. 

Zach. 

Zach. 

You sat across from me with your coffee mug 

Black with no sugar. 

I glanced out the window watching the snowfall

And Madelyn sledding down the hill. 
In her innocence I saw us 

You making hot cocoa with the carefullest delicacy 

After us sledding in -20 degree temperature.

You building a snow fort

Crowning me princess of the castle. 
Christmas music plays fuzzily in the background.

I watch you look dully at your phone

While mom asks how college is. 

It takes me back to when you sang me Christmas hymns 

In a Mickey Mouse voice. 
Mom leaves us alone 

And almost immediately your face turns cold

You insist that mom forced us 

kicking and screaming into this existence.

That every day is a struggle to breathe.
I stare at your body posture

Your hands are wrapped so tightly around the mug that it might break. 

You are a cold engineer fixing capitalism now

Making small talk about the bourgeoisie.

My name isn’t Karen darling. 

My name isn’t Karen darling.
The rose petals make a beautiful canvas 

of broken promises and sweet nothings you made to me. 

I am bent over cigarette ashes 

My high heels have rubbed into mosaic.
I look down the moonlit street.

The wind blows creating a secondhand made symphony. 

It is bittersweet music to my ears 

And as the wind picks up and the rain makes a soft

1,2,1,2,1,2,3.
I laugh hysterically because you promised me a dance in the rain,

But instead we ended up in Minneapolis traffic high. 

My throat burnt with the temporary happiness and nostalgia. 

Even now outside on the steps I felt that same familiar burning come back.
The thunder makes a deep yell across the 2:45 a.m. Mural of green and grey

I softly whisper back to it, “Fuck you Karen.” 

It picks up faster and faster 

The scattered rose petal promises blow away. 
The thunder crescendos to a mezzo forte 

And my desperation to be free intensifies.

Until finally I cut the strings holding my thought process 

In this weeping willow.

I know you, but that’s because we are both walking art.

I know you, but that’s because we are both walking art.

And one day he will lose control and he will use your body as a punching bag.
You are going to look like a Jackson pollock piece.
When people ask you’ll lie to yourself and say it was your fault,
It was your fault you dressed in such a way that other men looked at you,
That you provoked his jealous tendencies.

And one day your eyes will clear up and you will see him for what he really is,
But then he’ll say,”Hello.”
And you will try your hardest to be strong, but that red notification is so irritating.
Your knees will lock and you will fall.

And one day becomes today, but
It’s too late because you opened up your innermost thoughts to him.
He knows how to pull your strings just right.
It must be getting dark sitting in his closet with all his other skeletons
Like some discarded piece of paper mache.

Shattered (poem by me)

(The formatting always gets fucked up and I’m too lazy to fix it.) 
Shattered

You told me jokingly that I am a glass half empty type of girl 
That you were a glass half full type of gentleman 

The significance of this did not make much sense at the time 

I looked both ways

I left the gun carefully kept away 

I gaged the amount of alcohol in my bloodstream 

The glass was more than half empty it was definitely half full 
You wandered aimlessly between cars 

Anything you could get with the money from your crappy 9 to 5 job you took 

Glass jagged it imprinted all the lies you told yourself into your skin 

A good friend once told me that it doesn’t matter 

The glass is always full half of air and half of water 

Neither of our cups were empty 

Either way the glass sits right there for everyone to see
You carried your glass in front of you faking fulfillment 

I like so many other people didn’t see the small chip in your cup 

Until all the water was dripping out of it onto your clothes and into the ground

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