it's almost 4am
and my face is sticky with tears
wet?! i laugh. tears are not wet. they are filth itself.
and i am trying to justify
why i ran from my rapist

o god, 4am knows all my secrets
it knows me on the side of raw
it clings to my face
and sits in my heavy bags
of eye-flesh
around my bruised orbs
making me feel
filthy

why am i awake
with hangover en tow
brooding over me waiting for sunlight
to strike at my brain
o long night
that i could sleep
that i could sleep
an infinite sleep

and here i sit with the full realization
that i am too tired to feel like this anymore
and i am too weak to make it stop
and too defiant to give up

why am i always trapped
inside your arms
a hundred thousand miles from you
still struggling for breath
with my head to the wall
still unable to utter a word

o 4am
knows i let you
knows i let you
hurt me

so i could run away



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took some new pictures which may or may not find their way here. hmm... maybe one or two.



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