mizzpris's profile

Deric, ~~~~~Hey hon, how are ya? I'm good, better then i thought I would be, ya know. I wish I could talk to you for a few minutes... but I know that won't happen; even if it did, it's not in my nature to talk about these things. Regardless, you're gone now, not dead, like my mom. You're just not here, I never hear from you. I used to be with you almost every day from the time I woke up until the time I would have to leave you. ~~~~~I think about you a lot still, and I often wonder if I was i...

I'm barely floating in a pool of unanswered questions surrouded by a land of doubt and guilt and unexplicably felt emotions I'm weighing out options that don't even exsist to answer things that are evident I'm trying not to analyze and I'm trying not to leave but this world is so hard and our time is so short My breath is a waste this dance around words is exhausting My blood flow is endless Though I'm covered in ice Freeezing, dying always alone

It's 420 in the morning, and I just can't seem to sleep. Sometimes in the late hours of the night my mind wanders. I don't know anyone who has such a constant thought process as mine, seeminly never ending. I try to write and I can't grasp just one topic or subject or even word to focus on. I'll hit a bong and I'll smoke a newbort and I will be okay in a minute... My subject will be the electric Kool-aid Acid Test... the best book ever written. You see, I want to be a school teacher of high s...

I don't know what to write and I can't help feeling that you're right but somewhere I lost the meaning of this fight My kneww still hurts and my pride torn down but I'm miserable wearing this frown nothings easing this pain, not even the spliff going around Pink Floyd came on and I missed your car I missed your smile when you'd talk of how we are I wanted to sing with you like when we're drunk at the bar "Hey you" I'm calling out in my mind with the beat and the rhythm, keeping time My hearts...

She was standing in the kitchen cleaning up the mint green and stainless steel milkshake maker from the mid 1950's in her oversized grey sweatpants that were a darker shade of grey where her wet hands had touched. Slowly pouring the last of the water out of the metal cup belonging to the machine then placing it underneath the machine she reached with her right hand for a rag and began wiping the countertop down. "What are you doing," a deep voice came from the darkness of an empty living roo...