Life.Of.Sin

It’s a poem.

If I could feel for you
I would.
Don’t you know that?
If I could spare a heartbeat for you
I would.
Don’t you know that?

If your eyes weren’t sad and red.
If your lips weren’t bruised and bled.
If your face weren’t flushed and torn.
If your neck were not adorned
By bruises not of my creation.

If I could feel your pulse
I would.
Don’t you know that?
If I could choke you with my hands
I would.
Don’t you forget that.

If I could spare a moment of my time
To glance at your pale body in that stupid fucking box
I wouldn’t.
Don’t you fucking forget that.

“Bert and I don’t date…but we go out in a musical sense.” -Gerard Way

Well, I figured I should post.  I mean, I never post anymore.  I’m sorry! 

Anyway, let’s post some shit I don’t tell anyone but Megan (my bitch).  I’m tripping on drugs again!  Yay for me.  *sarcasm*  I hate being 18.  It sucks.  I hate college.  It sucks more.  I don’t care how fucking immature it sounds because you all can kiss my fucking ass … I’m not ready to be a ‘grown up’ yet.  I’m completely and totally terrified of taking control of my life.

Yesterday we were talking about dating and I nearly had a panic attack.  We stopped visiting my counselor, I ODed last month about a week before Christmas.  600 mg of Lamictal.  Now I’m tripping on shit and I don’t even know what half of it is.

I’m considering anorexia.  I’m just so … fucked up completely and totally.

Except when I’m online or writing and I haven’t really been writing in the last few days, haven’t been on MSN either.

Well, whatever.  This post is up.

Luvverzz,
Mrs. McCracken, aka Dru

“He had a tight butt, though.” -Bert
“He did have a tight ass, for sure.” -Gerard
“Bert has a tight butt, too.” -Bert
Comparing Bert to Charles Manson