Tuesday


It’s time for a little organization, it’s a little off putting how often Americans use the letter Z, but I’ve started so I’ll finish. Re-read, re-type. Tuesday Poetry Night.

Something from the vaults;

“One month and one day before pay day. Today is the first day since I arrived that I thought of her. I thought how the pain I caused now would be less than the pain I would have caused if I freaked out then. I thought of the pain in my mistakes and the insufferability of hers.

I think I learned how to turn guilt into anger. It’s easier to let go this day.

Maybe I’ll start wearing foundation, Just to hide how red my face gets in the sun.

I might buy clothes I actually like. I’m losing weight which is good.

I hope I can keep it up. Actually I know I can. Soon I’ll take my shirt off. Return to the beach.

I’m going back to my room. Maybe I’ll write a book.

Just so you know, it’s been two years. Ten years ago I wrote to the girl with the bruised neck (who had the muse poster). Nine years since I wrote to Tuesday.

Nikki is my heroine.

Cigarettes still make friends.

His mind is probably broken and he’s probably unreasonably rough but I still want him to be mine. Hormones.

From now on, tuesday is remembrance tuesday. Every. Week.

Truth I can only be the best if I’m me. ”

Believe me when I say; this past is lies about the truth as well as truth about the lies.

No intention of turning backwards, just honoring what came before.

Still miss you Dad.

Pinangel

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