JOURNAL ENTRY

7. // REEM

love is too much for the imaginary world- it waves in and out in forms that you don't notice/ cigarette smoke, waves from strangers, grass toes, spitting gross beverages out of car windows, rolling around all sundays in large grey jackets, relating to film noirs ("the stars are ageless, aren't they?"), poetry reading at inappropriate eight in the evenings, the smell of your skin. awkward stuff like that. i wash myself clean, i do, but it comes back with a talent- where do i run from that?

5. // REEM

i am living in a dug hole with fantastic lights and bodies sprawled on top of each other gasping for air, picking dreams out of his hair, hold my breath until someone starts singing. tom waits saved a night or two with cigarettes, we're playing pianos with backward hands and i don't know what they say about the mind, it's rural, and futuristic, classified just in the humming section. i moisturize my nose, feverishly, i have a heart that can't be chained, too, but i try too hard to keep it with you, i don't want it either.

3. // REEM

lying in the dark listening to amy winehouse sing about a cat in battered jeans. everything with the world hurts deep into my skin tonight. there's this pierce attitude i can't shake anymore. i keep telling everyone about my strength, my poor naked fragile strength. i never thought twice about suicide notes (not mine) (those were love letters) because that kind of state makes so much sense to me, more than this "stability" ever will. i feel the fakest i've ever been in my life, smiling, hurting, going through first chapters with a yawn stapled across my face. i want my tranquilizers and my soapy baths, how can i find that road again, honey, i'm so scared and tired of being sober. i don't want to go too far, i just want back into my old habits- my little world of faith and disobedience. i know i'm scared of looking myself in the mirror and finding someone looking back, consciously tame and accomplished. give me back my decadence.

2. // REEM

you call close to midnight offering vague friendship and songs that you say you can’t listen to unless some girls are grinding up against you. me, i don’t even know what grinding is. you say you just broke up with someone and don’t feel broken in the slightest, what an asshole. whenever i get phone calls like that i strut around the house like a hooker on speed, faking attitude, promising myself to never share my diaries with diseased souls again.

1. // REEM

you don’t understand so many things, you pull away, and while you do so, he pulls back in, seducing me with motorcycles and a sideways smile. i’m a sucker for both of you - just inside my coffee cup - i am a freak of nature, i found out, i don’t know how to talk.