Sophisticated
Sophisticated
a song I wrote as the new year came
I am looking ahead again It's the lemon seeds in my water Hair stuck in my collar I'm dreading the end again It's the paint on my fingernails The passing of time Now the ceiling's getting lower And the cards are all crying The same lines "You're the only problem It's why you'll never be great again" Sophisticated, unmedicated Every time I breathe it hurts Not complicated, I'm just retaining All this dirty water Each second as a blessing Counting down the days until it fails me twice Then I'll be frustrated Laying in my bed until it happens thrice Now everyone's texting me Look at your phone, it's '25 But I'm still stuck in last year Wanting all the things that've passed me by Ribs being counted, stars unprofounded Who did you say you were? Sophisticated, lately been craving Some type of modular
It's been thirty minutes I can still feel the magic of purple skirts Rituals and paper It's getting later But I'm the same daughter
More Posts from Frightbunny and Others
I miss weheartit
All this expectation is a knife!!
Getting worse and better and worse and better and worse and better and worse and better and worse and better and worse and better and worse and better and worse and better and worse and better
I recreate situations in the Sims 4 to feel some grasp of control over them
unknown // ladybird (2017) // white oleander by janet fitch // elektra by sophocles // everything everywhere all at once (2022) // sharp objects by gillian flynn // mamma told me by mother mother
Dude last night I had this dream we were fucking. I saw the back of your neck all bare and it was like I fell forward lips first onto it. Thin gold chain, spring clasp, I ripped it off with my teeth. I heard you choke for a second until it broke but you knew I wouldn't hurt you.
And in the dream we are in your bed, in your old room, the one you shared with that emo boy-girl who didn't want you having anyone over ever, in that so silent space of broken eye contact and listening, listening. A space can't last if you know you have to leave it right, so here I am writing about some pathetic dream I had about some thing I said I would forget. Maybe some other night I would write about softness or upturned lips but no this is all water now
Bruises on my knees i don't know where they came from. My seventh cigarette of the day.
It's Saturday and I'm smoking out my bedroom window again.
A lyric is stuck in my head: the end is closer every second than it's ever been right now.
I wonder that dying is the only thing I'll never be able to control. I find it hard to believe that I won't be scared.
I know that's why people believe in God— because they're scared. I don't really have anything to believe in; maybe the air bubbles in oil, adrenaline, a first draft.
I want to believe in something that's worthy of it. But I haven't found anything like that yet.
Myself, maybe?
Hi im Sophie I like silver jewelry quiet eyes and soft hair. Hot wax and mad cats and a good saxophone solo, I like friends who love me and I like to love; I like to be alone. Empty bathrooms a safe crowd a 1950s fire escape just out of Manhattan from where I can see the stars. I like a rickety thing, unsafe sex, breaking a searching gaze. I like a stranger, a stranger in a big city, a boring kind of stranger to whom things don’t happen; and I like playing a part, a person to whom nothing happens, nothing at all.
Six days sober
Recently learned about a type of pattern synesthesia where people can pick out 4-leaf clovers easily
I wonder if they are more lucky
