Still Charmed and Kicking (season 8)

You have to start them small and slow. Build up your momentum then let them go. Awry. This way and that. Reeling you out of your fantasy and dreamlike trance. Back onto the dirty carpet, with it rubbing the palms of your hands. Begging you not to think this time. Down on your knees trapped in sublime. Til you're gasping for air. And flopping around on the floor. You have to start them determined and quiet. Concentrated and then you release. Watching as the patterns intersect like a sick kaleidoscope of indignity. That fracture your eyelids, while prying them open. Poisoning them then laying them out to dry. And then you're back to the floor and the humiliation there. And your clothes are torn from the misguided wear. But your nerves kick into high gear. And you read it upside down and inside out. Trying to make sense of all this doubt. But laying lifeless on the floor is so much easier. Wet hands and a straw are a mouths best friends. The cool night air seems much simplier. So the window is open but not your heart. You have to start these cold and weightless. Like the flutters of maybe thoughts. And when they emerge you see them as far as they can be taken. And when they're gone you lay there shaking. Shredding the pillows and burning the sheets. Because the floor is for them-not for your sleep. They'll tear out your tongue if you're trying to eat. I couldn't run so no use for feet. You have to start these on a breath. Because when you exhale maddening is left. Turns down the corners of your lips. You're afraid you're too close to it. You back up and you're wilting. A fine line divides your sanity. A fine crime against humanity.

Desperate Housewitches (season 8)

You're like this craving I can't seem to satisfy. I never taste enough of you on my tongue to pacify...............Once I was a slave to my desperation. My yearning. My human nature. The primal urge to obtain something that to this day still seems so far away. Unable to catch this thing that is all of you. The heart I've tried to carry is breaking my back. And with every single step the spirit is ghostly and uncertain. I've been reaching only for it to disappear. Pulling back my hands then once again it's near. I've before touched this illusion of you. Never have my fingertips felt so alive. Sparking with the energy of emotion that was foreign before. And never have I wanted so to grasp something that wasn't there. But maybe seeing wasn't believing. Because I could feel it. And what i felt was too powerful not to believe. Even as that thing I longed to grab loomed in and out of reach. The mind was mabye too censored. Too closed I couldn't share. There were so many revelations baying at the dam. Yours weren't like mines tragically parted with nothing coming out. Partially open with teeth for locks. Can't get in. But somehow already there and trapped. My dreams are the only perfect places left, because they're full of you. Your words strewn in the seams of my brain. Can't make sense of the thoughts but daring to know more. Like a battered little sailboat and determined to push from shore. But still too far from the other end of the ocean. Still too far from all of you. You're the stars in my sky, but my days are unbearable. The sunlight scorches me. Reality severes my soul. Creating a terrible hunger and I starve for you. And these pieces of the puzzle epitomize endless treasure, but still wouldn't do. I would need everything that you can't give. I'd have to have the entire puzzle to live. Every breath, every smile, every touch. I've needed it all and I've needed too much. Your image is elusive your effects are apparent. I can't recognize myself anymore. I can only see what you've done to me.

The Lost Picture Show (season 8)

Just don't know me anymore. Just go back in time. No need to apologize for these realizations. Just know the fault was all mine. I'm terrified of the snow and smoking. Traumatized by these games you left. And fuck these stars that are mocking me. And fuck my timeless naivete. Just don't know I'm barely breathing. Just don't know I'm laying here. Openly bleeding and gutted for show. Monument to tears. You don't need to know. Just don't see me bruised and damaged and lascerated. I don't hurt too bad. Don't have the thoughts like me burrowing in deep, with the nerves they drag. Just don't know the seconds or minutes you gave. Don't see your wasted time. Because I'll have an eternity to replay them like a skipping filmstrip in my mind. Please make it worthwhile. Please make it quick. Starts in my head with a sharpening prick. Please tear it loose. Please leave it alone. Please ring it out. Please take it home. Just don't forget I don't need it. Just don't forget to throw it away. Don't watch it shrivel up and die. Just don't want it, just don't ask why. And I'm fake and hollow. I'm put away. I'm back in the garden there's nothing to say. And no way to speak. Not that speaking makes a change. Just make sure I'm out of your sight. Just don't think this is strange. Just don't see me here. Just don't know that I'm waiting. Or the wallpaper peeling back and rumpled at the floor. The paint chipping and the walls caving. I'll be buried in this stupor. Just don't see me dying in this position. I'll be suffocated by dawn. Just don't know I'm in this condition. I inhaled you in the morning. I've slept on you at night. And now I'm on the rim on the trash can wondering whether or not you want another bite. Just don't see my insides carved out for you. Just don't see unrelenting pain. Forgetting my eerie and mushy words should be just as easy as my name. Just don't see my tired fingers at the ends of these staggering hands. Desperate for your touch, desperate to touch you. Like a desert full of sand. Better back up some and take a good hard look at this. Before you make a crazy decision-this one isn't hit or miss. Too mnay different outcomes swirling around in your head. Too many possibilities weighing you down like lead. Couldn't say the right thing that would quell your fear. So now I'm under this reading lamp....now I'm sitting here. Just don't see my head bowed to the concrete. Don't see the salt water underneath. And don't see these things streaking my face, just turn over a new leaf. Cause I'm wondering is this real. And don't see me bawled up under the covers with your shirt. Don't remember looking in my eyes. Then you won't know that it hurt. I have memories engrained in my skin. Wishing for yours to make it complete again.