today; paper one

one of eight.
but coleridge
is over and dead
dead
dead
dead
dead
dead

but i am still
feeling fragile
and today, you did
nothing to help me
and everything to
hinder me

yesterday,
((all my troubles seemed so far away))
i began to
watch australian idol
((instead of studying))
and when mark holden said;
"you make me feel..."
i began to cry.
((again again))

do you know who i
was thinking of?
do you?
it's not fair
because
you make me feel
more than anyone i
will ever know

and i hate you for it
i
fucking
hate
you.

as if that was enough.
as if that was ever
going to be enough.

ridiculous isn't it?
i'm trying to erase you
oh how i try.
but even when you
aren't sharing my air,
you still get to me.

and i let you
i let you
do this to me
fuck,
i hate people
i hate mark holden
& i hate saying anything
while you're there
because you keep
looking me in the eye
and i don't need it
not now
not ever

i wonder if you'll ever know?
but
why delude myself?
of course you won't
of course you won't
...
i wish i had that kind of oblivion
i wish it harder than anything

ugh.
i hate crying when
i have no tissues
at least laura gave me some
in the exam.
((and if this was shakespeare))
((she would be the soothsayer.))
((you would be iago?))
((portia?))
cleopatra.

couldn't even concentrate
on today of all days
because you keep
climbing to
the top of my head
and you thought you couldn't conquer me

why does she
have to mark me
with your x?
why couldn't it be you?
why do you infect me
by proxy?

i'd rather be trampled by
your shoes
at least i could
enjoy the pain.
but you won't even
give me that honour.