Not finished [I'm not patient]

I said 

"Sister, slow down.

You've got 

Time on your hands

You've got

Blood on your hands 

You've got

To get you head clear"

"Baby.

Don't worry

Baby

I'll hold you down

I'll slow you down

I'll wash those hands clean. 

You've got your problems 

Baby

But I'll hold you down

Slow you down

Keep down

Don't go."  

"Sister, slow down.

You've got 

Time on your hands

You've got

Blood on your hands

You've got

To get you head clear"

The Death of Delilah

Her name was Delilah and that flame in her eyes was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen in person. It was like she lit up from the inside out. I wanted to hold her and see if I could feel the warmth from that light resonating outwards. I never got that close. I didn't dare. She was to beautiful and to pure for me to reveal that urge. I'd lean in to tell her secrets and breath in to smell her hair. She always smelt sweet and tangy, like she'd scrubbed herself with sugar and grapefruits. Her eyes were absinthe green. Everyone who looked in her eyes became drunk with love. It was like a magick spell, a part of her aura, that enveloped everyone around her. You couldn't get within 5 feet of her without falling madly in love. I remember the day she found out. The day she knew that I loved her. She looked at me with an expression that cannot be described in words. It was as if her entire world, her whole existence, everything she knew to be true and real and right, had come crashing down around her and she was trying to pick up the pieces but they kept slipping through her fingers. Sand through the hour glass, blowing in the wind. I let her know how sorry I was. I cupped her face in my hands. It was devoid of the resonating heat that I had longed for. Her face was cold. Her nose, her cheeks, her forehead. All cold. I thought she was scared. She told me she was dying. I cried that day. I cried everyday from then on and when she died I cried harder. I cried harder every day because the longer she was gone, the harder it became to live without her.  I wanted to die. I tried to die. I would concentrate for long periods of time on that one urge. To die. I tried to will it to happen. It was like I thought if I imagined myself dead, I would be. It wasn't so easy. I tried to move on. I tried to forget. I tried to fall in love. She was all there was. My mind was so filled with her existence that I couldn't accept the fact that she was gone. I made my life a shrine to her. 

Then, one day I was awake. Sun shining in my face, caffeinated coffee awake. 

She's gone and she's not coming back.

And I'm totally OK with that. 

Craigslist

"So I just had this thought"

"Yea? What's that?" 

"Well, it's a little crazy, but..."

"Dude, just spit it out." I waited patiently for a response as she smacked her gum in that annoying manner that I loved so much.

"Well...I think we should have an orgy!" 

I choked on the air I was breathing and sputtered, "What?! Are you serious?"

"I'm completely serious." There was a distinct confidence in her voice.

"But, why?" I couldn't hide my intrigue, disgust and bafflement at what she was saying.

"It would be awesome. Ya know? Like 10 bodies moving at once. Moving together. Moving in sync. It would be amazing." 

"Where are you gonna find 9 willing participants?"

"Craigslist is good for everything." 

To Put It Bluntly

I would try to explain to you in words what it's like to be alive. I don't think you could fathom it. All the things that encompass this life, and this feeling. It's all to much and sometimes it's not enough. I would let you in. I don't think you would understand. You would push me away. Push me down. Piss me off. It just doesn't work that way. I can't let you in if you won't let me out. Let me loose. Let me be. Just shut up and put aside your feelings. This isn't about you. This is about everything else. This is about everything that you don't understand. This is about everything that you don't want to understand. If you only knew what went on when you're not around. It would probably kill you. I would probably be happy about it. I don't think that I hate you. Not necessarily. I just don't give a fuck about what you have to say. I'll throw you a party when you're dead and gone. Not to mourn your passing, but to celebrate the fact that I won't have to deal with you anymore.
Remember that ten-thousand pound burden I dealt with for so long? Well, it's gone now. And I feel pretty fucking amazing.
Remember, it's not that I hate you. I just can't stand having you around. I can't stand the things you do. I can't stand the things you do to me. I can't stand...well...I can't stand anything about you. But, I do not hate you. I just wish you had never been born.
That time you told me your deepest secrets, you remember that? Well, I ran right out and told everyone I knew. You don't deserve secrets. You don't deserve me. You don't deserve anything. Now I know this sounds harsh and I know this sounds cruel, but cut me some slack. You broke my heart. To put it bluntly, go fuck yourself.