she puts her hands against the life she had

gosh its either that time of month or something is actually wrong.
i scratched this today while riding to school:


oh to be sweetly reclining in my own mind!
i think this place is already driving me mad. the public eye of scrutiny is one i cannot seem to get out from under, and i just wish i was able to lay about in my own head; slowly choosing which buds and blossoms of my memory i would smell and then clip in my hair.



it can't be a good thing that i close my eyes every night and imagine myself anywhere but where i am. i pretend the clashing grinding banging booming trucks are the loud brisk and hollow train and that when i wake up there will be some kind of dapple of nature filtered sun touching me with gentle hands. its all brash and no matter how many plants i hang in my windows i'm still here with black dust settling on all my prized possessions (my heart, my once bright skin, games, books, elvis statues, etc.)