<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1566916105024101979</id><updated>2011-07-31T01:43:30.007-07:00</updated><category term='safekeeping'/><category term='book list'/><title type='text'>hide &amp; seek</title><subtitle type='html'>the secret language of crickets</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>valiant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05226235975531819657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dDiLdbVxGqs/SQ436g3dOLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RPCmSssLTMA/S220/splitting+headache.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>43</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1566916105024101979.post-8273244150642109723</id><published>2010-03-14T15:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-14T15:52:43.408-07:00</updated><title type='text'>my shadow grabbed me by the feet and grew taller than i am</title><content type='html'>bought a mockingbird but the damn thing won’t sing&lt;br /&gt;had a dream I was buried alive&lt;br /&gt;with nothing but a broken jaw and a diamond ring.&lt;br /&gt;you gave a new meaning to my whole ‘black hole head’&lt;br /&gt;that leaves me shaking and burning&lt;br /&gt;at the foot of my bed&lt;br /&gt;and maybe you write songs to listen to while it rains-&lt;br /&gt;and mimic a voice that whispers about&lt;br /&gt;sewing machines and trains.&lt;br /&gt;but you have empires to crush,&lt;br /&gt;stars to cross out&lt;br /&gt;souls to save with a single touch&lt;br /&gt;i’m going to get the solution for fear tattooed ‘round my wrist&lt;br /&gt;right over the skin &lt;br /&gt;that sharp things once kissed&lt;br /&gt;I told you that I refused to fall in love with fiction&lt;br /&gt;and you laughed and asked &lt;br /&gt;if I even knew the difference&lt;br /&gt;anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;lately i've been drawing nothing but&lt;br /&gt;pretty glass girls and small boyish kings.&lt;br /&gt;been living awhile but haven’t learned&lt;br /&gt;a single thing&lt;br /&gt;except that cloudy weather keeps me in bed&lt;br /&gt;and maybe I love this girl down in Missouri&lt;br /&gt;and the deep south couldn’t be any deeper&lt;br /&gt;or that my tongue guts and head &lt;br /&gt;are sick of these fucking meds.&lt;br /&gt;OK so maybe I lied -&lt;br /&gt;about forgetting everything and that most people are good for nothing&lt;br /&gt;I know I was selfish &lt;br /&gt;but for now my hands are tied&lt;br /&gt;knotted with misery and achy winter bones&lt;br /&gt; my loves are always so far away&lt;br /&gt;and they always pass through but never seem to stay&lt;br /&gt;for long&lt;br /&gt;a severe case of transatlanticism since the day I was born&lt;br /&gt;remember when we were all caught up&lt;br /&gt;over that boy with his thorn?&lt;br /&gt;just a little kid but he’s all grown up now&lt;br /&gt;in most ways at least&lt;br /&gt;where the wild things are, the jungle book&lt;br /&gt;that monstrous beast&lt;br /&gt;with a tiny baby boy sittin at his feet.&lt;br /&gt;long eyelashes and horseshoe crabs.&lt;br /&gt;we were stupid kids, wasting years pretending to be sad.&lt;br /&gt;“there’s not a hole in your head if you don’t want there to be”&lt;br /&gt;well tell me if I smashed that pretty head open&lt;br /&gt;what kind of secrets would pour out?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;they said “stop thinking about just yourself”&lt;br /&gt;which is funny because I can’t seem stop talking &lt;br /&gt;about everybody else&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1566916105024101979-8273244150642109723?l=thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/feeds/8273244150642109723/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1566916105024101979&amp;postID=8273244150642109723' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/8273244150642109723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/8273244150642109723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/2010/03/my-shadow-grabbed-me-by-feet-and-grew.html' title='my shadow grabbed me by the feet and grew taller than i am'/><author><name>valiant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05226235975531819657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dDiLdbVxGqs/SQ436g3dOLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RPCmSssLTMA/S220/splitting+headache.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1566916105024101979.post-5239387522625795606</id><published>2010-02-28T23:15:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-28T23:17:51.174-08:00</updated><title type='text'>ink all over</title><content type='html'>my mouth is all strained red&lt;br /&gt;out of sweetness&lt;br /&gt;head so full of winter&lt;br /&gt;got the cold caught between my teeth and stuck in my eyelashes&lt;br /&gt;everything flickers out of the&lt;br /&gt;corners of my vision&lt;br /&gt;im out of breath over this&lt;br /&gt;you awful disease dream thing&lt;br /&gt;green eyed devil summer boy&lt;br /&gt;cardboard cutouts and bird silhouettes&lt;br /&gt;detuned piano&lt;br /&gt;dropped from the top floor&lt;br /&gt;like sunday morning&lt;br /&gt;untangle me and&lt;br /&gt;used my body&lt;br /&gt;as stitches&lt;br /&gt;dear god&lt;br /&gt;written letters and tucking them under the back pew&lt;br /&gt;my first memory or you is&lt;br /&gt;blood and sticky hands&lt;br /&gt;and my body drowned in your sea&lt;br /&gt;oh captain my captain&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;these are the things i throw out of windows except the snow is everywhere. so they'll be dead by morning.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1566916105024101979-5239387522625795606?l=thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/feeds/5239387522625795606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1566916105024101979&amp;postID=5239387522625795606' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/5239387522625795606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/5239387522625795606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/2010/02/ink-all-over.html' title='ink all over'/><author><name>valiant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05226235975531819657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dDiLdbVxGqs/SQ436g3dOLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RPCmSssLTMA/S220/splitting+headache.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1566916105024101979.post-2927038520479046667</id><published>2010-02-11T18:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-11T19:02:17.415-08:00</updated><title type='text'>athea</title><content type='html'>Tonight I spent 15 minutes sitting my bathtub clutching the phone. Not knowing who the call. My mother, brother, therapist, crisis center, God. Or you, my darling little bird. Even if I don't love you the way I used to, the way I should. The one you love and the one who loves you will never be the same person. Our hearts got the time to meet all mixed up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My words slurred, eyes unfocused. The little shadow-things creeping up on me with sharp little teeth. Like they used to with my old ghost. The one who held my wrists and followed me everywhere. Now I've got a new ghost, and his hands are big enough to close over my fists and he sings so beautifully it cuts into me every time. But he can't fight the dark and I don't know why. Just as helpless as I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know how lucky I am to always have something to smile about. I know how lucky I am that half my tears lately are out of this shining kind of happiness. The reasoning behind all this shortcircuiting and destructive madness is beyond me. I want blood tests, scans, IVs, anything to figure what is wrong. I don't even want to do anything about it (that is every word Bukowski and Salinger wrote rising to the surface). I just want to know.  If maybe my blueprints were all wrong and I've been put together like some Frankenstein monster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately it seems like my entire body is experiencing phantom limb.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's amazing every time you save me from another day inside my head. I wish I could take every word and every note and wrap myself inside of it. Sick of sleeping with my head beside the speaker. I want to live inside of this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good night moon good night room good night you etc etc&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1566916105024101979-2927038520479046667?l=thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/feeds/2927038520479046667/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1566916105024101979&amp;postID=2927038520479046667' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/2927038520479046667'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/2927038520479046667'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/2010/02/athea.html' title='athea'/><author><name>valiant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05226235975531819657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dDiLdbVxGqs/SQ436g3dOLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RPCmSssLTMA/S220/splitting+headache.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1566916105024101979.post-700965485273428856</id><published>2010-02-09T13:52:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-09T13:52:45.044-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1566916105024101979-700965485273428856?l=thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/feeds/700965485273428856/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1566916105024101979&amp;postID=700965485273428856' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/700965485273428856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/700965485273428856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/2010/02/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>valiant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05226235975531819657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dDiLdbVxGqs/SQ436g3dOLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RPCmSssLTMA/S220/splitting+headache.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1566916105024101979.post-6869008743160564139</id><published>2010-02-09T12:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-09T12:10:21.038-08:00</updated><title type='text'>we have come this far just crawling on our knees</title><content type='html'>i'm sure somewhere along the line, there was a point to this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i don't feel the need for these words anymore. they're just pretty trinkets, shiny baubles. mostly disconnected from everyone now, really. especially myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i don't know. there just isn't anything to talk about anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tired all the time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1566916105024101979-6869008743160564139?l=thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/feeds/6869008743160564139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1566916105024101979&amp;postID=6869008743160564139' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/6869008743160564139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/6869008743160564139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/2010/02/we-have-come-this-far-just-crawling-on.html' title='we have come this far just crawling on our knees'/><author><name>valiant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05226235975531819657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dDiLdbVxGqs/SQ436g3dOLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RPCmSssLTMA/S220/splitting+headache.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1566916105024101979.post-4879693052495029405</id><published>2010-01-02T14:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-02T14:54:37.257-08:00</updated><title type='text'>i erased my name for everything. wiped off fingerprints, dusted away footprints. like i was never even there.</title><content type='html'>you make me feel like singing,&lt;br /&gt;to tip and pour out&lt;br /&gt;all the little worlds&lt;br /&gt;swirling in the back of my throat&lt;br /&gt;and let all the little people&lt;br /&gt;i've thought up&lt;br /&gt;make new homes on my tongue&lt;br /&gt;and teeth&lt;br /&gt;so maybe the next time&lt;br /&gt;you'll kiss me and&lt;br /&gt;my mouth will taste sweet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;some desperate, chemical blood&lt;br /&gt;i touch your mouth.&lt;br /&gt;i touch your jaw.&lt;br /&gt;i touch the shell of your ear, your shoulder blade,&lt;br /&gt;the inside of your wrist.&lt;br /&gt;you hum softly&lt;br /&gt;the engine in your chest&lt;br /&gt;hot and roaring&lt;br /&gt;like a furnace&lt;br /&gt;and when you exhale,&lt;br /&gt;softly,&lt;br /&gt;shakily,&lt;br /&gt;smoke rises.&lt;br /&gt;you compare yourself to a machine,&lt;br /&gt;longingly tracing patterns on you skin&lt;br /&gt;explaining the detailed webwork&lt;br /&gt;of steel and wire that lies&lt;br /&gt;beneath&lt;br /&gt;that mighty engine sputters&lt;br /&gt;and&lt;br /&gt;groans.&lt;br /&gt;you whimper into the sheets.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp; yet i pluck you gently,&lt;br /&gt;you pale delicate thing&lt;br /&gt;and carry you into the garden&lt;br /&gt;lay you down in the soft marrow of the earth&lt;br /&gt;and let your bloom quietly in the&lt;br /&gt;moonlight&lt;br /&gt;                                                                               (you pale delicate thing)&lt;br /&gt;i touch your mouth.&lt;br /&gt;i touch your jaw.&lt;br /&gt;i touch the shell of your ear, your shoulder blade,&lt;br /&gt;the inside of your wrist.&lt;br /&gt;you hum softly,&lt;br /&gt;bright petals shivering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp;&amp;amp; he was a poet's wet dream:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="ctl00_ctl00_ctl00_cpMain_cpMain_cpMain_BulletinRead_ltl_body"&gt;"every time I breathe in I smell and taste the cigarettes you stole from me. and under that bright sun you laid across the road so unafraid, thinking yourself invincible, &amp;amp; every time i breathe it feels like the broad expanse of those tired hands on my neck, your eyes are the stars dying and imploding and in all that heat and light and energy i am beyond insignificant, im that lighter you sparked next to my skin and then let me steal so i could throw it as far as i could into the sea.&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you left without saying goodbye, its almost 2am. The heat collects behind eyelids, behind knees, along the shelf of your collarbone, &amp;amp; all I'm doing is wishing for snow. To turn our ordinary human silhouettes into something more, pressing angels into the ground. This is the opposite of a children's book; no monsters come out at night, only humans- we save our horns and sharp teeth for the sunlight.                 &lt;!--- blogger's current book/movie/music/games ---&gt;                                          &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I burnt my tongue on you. Now I have no sense of taste. Or decency.'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1566916105024101979-4879693052495029405?l=thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/feeds/4879693052495029405/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1566916105024101979&amp;postID=4879693052495029405' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/4879693052495029405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/4879693052495029405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-erased-my-name-for-everything-wiped.html' title='i erased my name for everything. wiped off fingerprints, dusted away footprints. like i was never even there.'/><author><name>valiant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05226235975531819657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dDiLdbVxGqs/SQ436g3dOLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RPCmSssLTMA/S220/splitting+headache.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1566916105024101979.post-3935307619270855069</id><published>2009-06-04T00:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T00:53:51.056-07:00</updated><title type='text'>sic transit gloria</title><content type='html'>she's an empty threat&lt;br /&gt;sleeps in an empty bed&lt;br /&gt;buries hope under the floorboards.&lt;br /&gt;hears shaky breath, wills herself to forget.&lt;br /&gt;no dreams, just numbers and figures, gotta pay the rent&lt;br /&gt;every silent minute strung with malicious intent.&lt;br /&gt;why do we wish upon dead things?&lt;br /&gt;puppet hung on lonely strings, come to keep me company tonight&lt;br /&gt;(fight off your demons, keep your skin under the light)&lt;br /&gt;we talk about the way his ages is marked in the rings in the wood&lt;br /&gt;become more honest than rings on fingers ever could.&lt;br /&gt;and i, i look at you and feel like singing;&lt;br /&gt;your kiss a question i want to spend my whole life answering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and yet, i love so much it hurts my head&lt;br /&gt;the heart, the horror, the touch, the dread.&lt;br /&gt;(should have loved a thunderbird)&lt;br /&gt;touch your skin, my throat, it sings.&lt;br /&gt;(a thunderbird would come around again in spring)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1566916105024101979-3935307619270855069?l=thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/feeds/3935307619270855069/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1566916105024101979&amp;postID=3935307619270855069' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/3935307619270855069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/3935307619270855069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/2009/06/sic-transit-gloria.html' title='sic transit gloria'/><author><name>valiant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05226235975531819657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dDiLdbVxGqs/SQ436g3dOLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RPCmSssLTMA/S220/splitting+headache.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1566916105024101979.post-2174136492088719443</id><published>2009-01-28T16:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-28T16:49:16.206-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i don't want to think of you as ugly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1566916105024101979-2174136492088719443?l=thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/feeds/2174136492088719443/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1566916105024101979&amp;postID=2174136492088719443' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/2174136492088719443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/2174136492088719443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-dont-want-to-think-of-you-as-ugly.html' title=''/><author><name>valiant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05226235975531819657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dDiLdbVxGqs/SQ436g3dOLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RPCmSssLTMA/S220/splitting+headache.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1566916105024101979.post-4243432404088309263</id><published>2009-01-17T15:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-09T12:50:56.762-08:00</updated><title type='text'>"Son, fear is the heart of love."</title><content type='html'>Everything about you still guts me. Straight up from the stomach past the ribs and to the throat. Empty myself of all the love and hurt you stuffed inside of my like some doll you wanted to make more real and more solid. But you never checked to see if there was a real heart and lungs and blood inside. I've still got your fingermarks in the pale skin of my wrist from when you took me by the hand and told me to jump. And so you drowned me in the sea with the salt still stinging in the wounds and stitch marks. Held me under, swallowing sand and sea water waiting to spit out a pearl. I'd string it on gold spun thread and place it around your neck.The stars in the sky don't shine as bright as the ones in your eyes-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything I hate about the world, I see in you, and in turn I've fallen in love with the world.It doesn't even hurt anymore; but this lack of feeling is a thousand times worse than anything you have ever done or said&lt;br /&gt;or haven't done&lt;br /&gt;or haven't said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're lovesick in sinks, but pretty girls make graves- babygirl, save that skeleton for your casket. I'll replace your cotton lungs with love and hurt and stitch you back up. Drown you in the sea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So tired.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1566916105024101979-4243432404088309263?l=thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/feeds/4243432404088309263/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1566916105024101979&amp;postID=4243432404088309263' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/4243432404088309263'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/4243432404088309263'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/2009/01/son-fear-is-heart-of-love.html' title='&quot;Son, fear is the heart of love.&quot;'/><author><name>valiant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05226235975531819657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dDiLdbVxGqs/SQ436g3dOLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RPCmSssLTMA/S220/splitting+headache.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1566916105024101979.post-9090742735460583355</id><published>2008-12-30T10:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-30T11:25:30.299-08:00</updated><title type='text'>like the passing of some great star</title><content type='html'>i'm not quite sure what to do with myself, now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and there are pieces of you everywhere, worn and smudged and falling apart. even the best of us do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1566916105024101979-9090742735460583355?l=thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/feeds/9090742735460583355/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1566916105024101979&amp;postID=9090742735460583355' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/9090742735460583355'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/9090742735460583355'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/2008/12/like-passing-of-some-great-star.html' title='like the passing of some great star'/><author><name>valiant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05226235975531819657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dDiLdbVxGqs/SQ436g3dOLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RPCmSssLTMA/S220/splitting+headache.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1566916105024101979.post-4925325795205922661</id><published>2008-12-01T12:36:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-01T12:36:28.997-08:00</updated><title type='text'>onwards and upwards then.</title><content type='html'>i'm chelsea. i'm ordinary. none of that nonsense about changing your life. you'll probably forget me. we all tend to forget each other. i'm not incredibly complex, and thats ok because why would i want to be? who doesn't want people to understand them? i'm a kid. the kind that has music running through their veins instead of blood. i write notes to my future self on the inside of my wrists. my dream is to have my words brighten peoples days. right now that dream lives in chicago, i am counting down the seconds until my flight takes off. the only reason i believe in love is because of this one girl but that is enough for me. i tend to make a fool out of myself and make people laugh, and i'm perfectly content with that as long as i keep everybody body smiling.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1566916105024101979-4925325795205922661?l=thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/feeds/4925325795205922661/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1566916105024101979&amp;postID=4925325795205922661' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/4925325795205922661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/4925325795205922661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/2008/12/onwards-and-upwards-then.html' title='onwards and upwards then.'/><author><name>valiant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05226235975531819657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dDiLdbVxGqs/SQ436g3dOLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RPCmSssLTMA/S220/splitting+headache.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1566916105024101979.post-3680884441929834237</id><published>2008-11-27T07:05:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-27T07:05:19.729-08:00</updated><title type='text'>i've decided</title><content type='html'>maybe the reason we wake up with hearts intact only to fall asleep with them dented is: one day when the latest imperfection is hammered in by clumsy hands we can look at the scratched golden surface to see its been molded into something else. something beyond, something beautiful. and to see the smudged fingerprints of everyone who has touched that heart. to know that they live, and you live, and will continue to. to march onwards. to let the smallest light shine and reflect on that heart and push away just a little bit of the darkness. just enough to see each others faces and smile. to find each others hands in the dark.one day i will make everyones hearts glow for even just a moment and the darkness will clear. and we will see the beautiful place we are in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dear god, dear songs, dear words, dear loves: this is what i believe in.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1566916105024101979-3680884441929834237?l=thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/feeds/3680884441929834237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1566916105024101979&amp;postID=3680884441929834237' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/3680884441929834237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/3680884441929834237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/2008/11/ive-decided.html' title='i&apos;ve decided'/><author><name>valiant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05226235975531819657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dDiLdbVxGqs/SQ436g3dOLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RPCmSssLTMA/S220/splitting+headache.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1566916105024101979.post-7400478020292118861</id><published>2008-11-25T14:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-25T14:37:18.882-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='safekeeping'/><title type='text'>nothing will ever feel the same as this</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;" it's so hard to talk about you, not because I don't love you with all of my heart but because our relationship is so different, so complex. I've pushed you out of my life more than once, but I always let you back in. Because without you...there's a gap. There's no beautiful words. There's no beautiful girl on the phone afraid to tell me they love me. There's no one that thinks like you, theres absolutely no one else like you. And I love that. No matter how many times i'm fucked over, no matter how many times I come to you crying, giving up, you reassure me that there's someone out there, to keep loving, to keep fighting. And I doubt it, I honestly do. But I will keep trying, and fighting, and loving. for you. because of you. It's so hard to explain what you mean to me. I'm almost afraid to talk about it. And I don't know why. I hate how you automatically cry when I call you crying. I love hearing you talk and just your voice. It's calming. It's safe. Don't ever think that you don't mean a lot to me, don't ever think that I don't love you, because I do, firefly. You've been with me through a lot. through it all. you know more than i let most people know about me. you know me and one day. we will meet. "&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1566916105024101979-7400478020292118861?l=thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/feeds/7400478020292118861/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1566916105024101979&amp;postID=7400478020292118861' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/7400478020292118861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/7400478020292118861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/2008/11/nothing-will-ever-feel-same-as-this.html' title='nothing will ever feel the same as this'/><author><name>valiant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05226235975531819657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dDiLdbVxGqs/SQ436g3dOLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RPCmSssLTMA/S220/splitting+headache.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1566916105024101979.post-66377152455574194</id><published>2008-11-23T15:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-23T15:31:12.466-08:00</updated><title type='text'>jack be nimble</title><content type='html'>think i lost the spark&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1566916105024101979-66377152455574194?l=thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/feeds/66377152455574194/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1566916105024101979&amp;postID=66377152455574194' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/66377152455574194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/66377152455574194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/2008/11/jack-be-nimble.html' title='jack be nimble'/><author><name>valiant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05226235975531819657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dDiLdbVxGqs/SQ436g3dOLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RPCmSssLTMA/S220/splitting+headache.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1566916105024101979.post-3425385264311512512</id><published>2008-11-22T07:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-22T07:30:44.816-08:00</updated><title type='text'>the naming of things</title><content type='html'>i've got this awful feeling in my chest &lt;br /&gt;like the world just ended when i was about to take a breath or&lt;br /&gt;blink away the tears. the chills up my spine remind me of the night you stuck your fist through the window and the cold air rushed in searching for warm corners of the room.&lt;br /&gt;i can remember the scars on your knuckles much more than i can remember your face.&lt;br /&gt;you only come here when you are hurt or sad, i hope you never come here again. kept our feet tucked under each other and read our fortunes, the scratches on our palms and the bottom of coffee cups. the stories of shadows on bedroom floors and hearts dug out of chests. the blood on his hands when he looked out the window. pulse stuttering out of his skin with her hand fisted in his collar.god, you make me believe in god. if i turn around right now your eyes will be dark like when you just wake up, and your fingers cold like they always are.&lt;br /&gt;i know you'll try to touch me and i just can't hold it in anymore.i've got this awful feeling in my chest and all i can think to do is press my fingers into the grooves between your ribs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dream to remember, sleep to forget.&lt;br /&gt;the way you make make heart beat like machine gun fire&lt;br /&gt;i've got the death toll written all over my face. i dream, and trees grow in the streets, bird sing. i sleep, and your edges start to blur and fade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;take a breath, blink away the tears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"i solemnly swear i am up to no good"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1566916105024101979-3425385264311512512?l=thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/feeds/3425385264311512512/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1566916105024101979&amp;postID=3425385264311512512' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/3425385264311512512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/3425385264311512512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/2008/11/naming-of-things.html' title='the naming of things'/><author><name>valiant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05226235975531819657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dDiLdbVxGqs/SQ436g3dOLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RPCmSssLTMA/S220/splitting+headache.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1566916105024101979.post-1785359295039364703</id><published>2008-11-10T19:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T20:13:46.480-08:00</updated><title type='text'>home</title><content type='html'>what i exist for comes down to this.&lt;br /&gt;this moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q8FyfO8CZrY"&gt;"boomerang my head, back to the city i grew up in..."&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1566916105024101979-1785359295039364703?l=thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/feeds/1785359295039364703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1566916105024101979&amp;postID=1785359295039364703' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/1785359295039364703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/1785359295039364703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/2008/11/home.html' title='home'/><author><name>valiant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05226235975531819657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dDiLdbVxGqs/SQ436g3dOLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RPCmSssLTMA/S220/splitting+headache.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1566916105024101979.post-2538529126364798479</id><published>2008-11-10T19:07:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T19:08:12.669-08:00</updated><title type='text'>"valiant"</title><content type='html'>our fingerprints don't match but our hands cast the same shadow. you sleep in your bed, she sleeps on the floor, i sleep in between classes. day shift, night shift, unemployment line. we all dream whether we remember or not. we eat, breathe, shit, grow. we shed and spit blood. sing or just mouth along. forty-six chromosomes and a combination of X and Y. you count sheep while i count your eyelashes. our fingerprints dont match but&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i dont much fucking care&lt;br /&gt;when&lt;br /&gt;our hands are pressed together.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1566916105024101979-2538529126364798479?l=thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/feeds/2538529126364798479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1566916105024101979&amp;postID=2538529126364798479' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/2538529126364798479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/2538529126364798479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/2008/11/valiant.html' title='&quot;valiant&quot;'/><author><name>valiant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05226235975531819657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dDiLdbVxGqs/SQ436g3dOLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RPCmSssLTMA/S220/splitting+headache.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1566916105024101979.post-3334659796978934351</id><published>2008-11-08T17:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-08T17:41:20.672-08:00</updated><title type='text'>used to be one of the rotten ones</title><content type='html'>your voice breaks my chest open like a fortune. i think of you at night and wonder if you've stayed clean and if you are happy and in love. remember when you were my shadow? i kept you close, wrapped around my ankles and wrists. remember when i lost my mind? screaming at things that weren't there, you rested your hand against the nape of my neck. you don't even exist beyond the edges of my heart.&lt;br /&gt;a figment of the worlds imagination. a collective hallucination.&lt;br /&gt;a lonely thief. a cricket on my shoulder. a fuck you can't forget or fight out of your system.&lt;br /&gt;you will be my sweetest downfall, dreaming of empty wine bottles and sleeping in the corners of dark rooms. i drained your only crutch in the sink, set your love on fire on the kitchen floor. we bombed the city as the sun came up.&lt;br /&gt;i met you at a party, in a bar, in central park, on the subway- we whispered and told stories and cut out our spines. we skinned ourselves on someones couch. we cut off all our eyelashes.&lt;br /&gt;tonight my lips are blue and all i can feel are the shadows biting at my wrists and ankles where your fingerprints burned in.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1566916105024101979-3334659796978934351?l=thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/feeds/3334659796978934351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1566916105024101979&amp;postID=3334659796978934351' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/3334659796978934351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/3334659796978934351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/2008/11/used-to-be-one-of-rotten-ones.html' title='used to be one of the rotten ones'/><author><name>valiant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05226235975531819657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dDiLdbVxGqs/SQ436g3dOLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RPCmSssLTMA/S220/splitting+headache.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1566916105024101979.post-5233472136825174900</id><published>2008-11-07T12:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-07T12:41:34.375-08:00</updated><title type='text'>these are the things i think about</title><content type='html'>when i'm alone without you. i wonder of your whereabouts, and hope to hell you're happy where you are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sometimes the planets align&lt;br /&gt;i like to push them into place&lt;br /&gt;make your own luck&lt;br /&gt;clovers crafted from paper and glue&lt;br /&gt;white rabbits foot still clutching that pocketwatch&lt;br /&gt;sweet tooth fight that bitter pill&lt;br /&gt;bleach bone skeletons get their fill&lt;br /&gt;of benzedrine, she's it for me&lt;br /&gt;got your veins split wide open&lt;br /&gt;the preacher's knocking at your door&lt;br /&gt;while counting the specks in the tiles,&lt;br /&gt;half asleep on the bathroom floor.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1566916105024101979-5233472136825174900?l=thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/feeds/5233472136825174900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1566916105024101979&amp;postID=5233472136825174900' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/5233472136825174900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/5233472136825174900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/2008/11/these-are-things-i-think-about-when-im.html' title='these are the things i think about'/><author><name>valiant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05226235975531819657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dDiLdbVxGqs/SQ436g3dOLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RPCmSssLTMA/S220/splitting+headache.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1566916105024101979.post-4954018154129131131</id><published>2008-11-07T12:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-07T12:12:41.096-08:00</updated><title type='text'>a bit of dialogue for you:</title><content type='html'>-hey.&lt;br /&gt;- what?&lt;br /&gt;-you're ugly and boring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'll admit, it's hard to talk shit with a bruised jaw. i'll keep this in the dip between thumb and finger, behind the back of my knees, tucked into the hollow behind my ears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;lost things.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1566916105024101979-4954018154129131131?l=thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/feeds/4954018154129131131/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1566916105024101979&amp;postID=4954018154129131131' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/4954018154129131131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/4954018154129131131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/2008/11/bit-of-dialogue-for-you.html' title='a bit of dialogue for you:'/><author><name>valiant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05226235975531819657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dDiLdbVxGqs/SQ436g3dOLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RPCmSssLTMA/S220/splitting+headache.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1566916105024101979.post-7609914189994578473</id><published>2008-11-01T14:37:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-01T14:41:10.341-07:00</updated><title type='text'>wishful thinking</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lake_Wobegon_effect"&gt;lake effect kid&lt;/a&gt;: in case i wasn't the only one wondering. woe-begone, baby gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;funny how it can work out. that little record spinning in a dark corner of the room makes the world stop. i know what i'm going to do. i was born for that city and that city was made for me. for all of us who have certain words and hearts in common. i've been a coward my whole life. now its time to "do what scares me the most". i'll go it alone if i have to. they say you don't regret the things you do- but the things you don't. i won't stay here and turn to dust like the rest of them. i refuse to live a rinse and repeat life. i refuse to be less than what i am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"saturday..."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1566916105024101979-7609914189994578473?l=thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/feeds/7609914189994578473/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1566916105024101979&amp;postID=7609914189994578473' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/7609914189994578473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/7609914189994578473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/2008/11/wishful-thinking.html' title='wishful thinking'/><author><name>valiant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05226235975531819657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dDiLdbVxGqs/SQ436g3dOLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RPCmSssLTMA/S220/splitting+headache.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1566916105024101979.post-5859066666419726786</id><published>2008-11-01T13:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-01T14:36:10.979-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='book list'/><title type='text'>our scars are our personal table of contents</title><content type='html'>The Modern Library Top 100 Novels (Reader's List)&lt;br /&gt;ATLAS SHRUGGED by Ayn Rand&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strike&gt;THE FOUNTAINHEAD by Ayn Rand&lt;/strike&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BATTLEFIELD EARTH by L. Ron Hubbard&lt;br /&gt;THE LORD OF THE RINGS by J.R.R. Tolkien&lt;br /&gt;TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD by Harper Lee&lt;br /&gt;1984 by George Orwell&lt;br /&gt;ANTHEM by Ayn Rand&lt;br /&gt;WE THE LIVING by Ayn Rand&lt;br /&gt;MISSION EARTH by L. Ron Hubbard&lt;br /&gt;FEAR by L. Ron Hubbard&lt;br /&gt;ULYSSES by James Joyce&lt;br /&gt;CATCH-22 by Joseph Heller&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strike&gt;THE GREAT GATSBY by F. Scott Fitzgerald&lt;/strike&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DUNE by Frank Herbert&lt;br /&gt;THE MOON IS A HARSH MISTRESS by Robert Heinlein&lt;br /&gt;STRANGER IN A STRANGE LAND by Robert Heinlein&lt;br /&gt;A TOWN LIKE ALICE by Nevil Shute&lt;br /&gt;BRAVE NEW WORLD by Aldous Huxley&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strike&gt;THE CATCHER IN THE RYE by J.D. Salinger&lt;/strike&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANIMAL FARM by George Orwell&lt;br /&gt;GRAVITY'S RAINBOW by Thomas Pynchon&lt;br /&gt;THE GRAPES OF WRATH by John Steinbeck&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strike&gt;SLAUGHTERHOUSE FIVE by Kurt Vonnegut&lt;/strike&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GONE WITH THE WIND by Margaret Mitchell&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strike&gt;LORD OF THE FLIES by William Golding&lt;/strike&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SHANE by Jack Schaefer&lt;br /&gt;TRUSTEE FROM THE TOOLROOM by Nevil Shute&lt;br /&gt;A PRAYER FOR OWEN MEANY by John Irving&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strike&gt;THE STAND by Stephen King&lt;/strike&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE FRENCH LIEUTENANT'S WOMAN by John Fowles&lt;br /&gt;BELOVED by Toni Morrison&lt;br /&gt;THE WORM OUROBOROS by E.R. Eddison&lt;br /&gt;THE SOUND AND THE FURY by William Faulkner&lt;br /&gt;LOLITA by Vladimir Nabokov&lt;br /&gt;MOONHEART by Charles de Lint&lt;br /&gt;ABSALOM, ABSALOM! by William Faulkner&lt;br /&gt;OF HUMAN BONDAGE by W. Somerset Maugham&lt;br /&gt;WISE BLOOD by Flannery O'Connor&lt;br /&gt;UNDER THE VOLCANO by Malcolm Lowry&lt;br /&gt;FIFTH BUSINESS by Robertson Davies&lt;br /&gt;SOMEPLACE TO BE FLYING by Charles de Lint&lt;br /&gt;ON THE ROAD by Jack Kerouac&lt;br /&gt;HEART OF DARKNESS by Joseph Conrad&lt;br /&gt;YARROW by Charles de Lint&lt;br /&gt;AT THE MOUNTAINS OF MADNESS by H.P. Lovecraft&lt;br /&gt;ONE LONELY NIGHT by Mickey Spillane&lt;br /&gt;MEMORY AND DREAM by Charles de Lint&lt;br /&gt;TO THE LIGHTHOUSE by Virginia Woolf&lt;br /&gt;THE MOVIEGOER by Walker Percy&lt;br /&gt;TRADER by Charles de Lint&lt;br /&gt;THE HITCHHIKER'S GUIDE TO THE GALAXY by Douglas Adams&lt;br /&gt;THE HEART IS A LONELY HUNTER by Carson McCullers&lt;br /&gt;THE HANDMAID'S TALE by Margaret Atwood&lt;br /&gt;BLOOD MERIDIAN by Cormac McCarthy&lt;br /&gt;A CLOCKWORK ORANGE by Anthony Burgess&lt;br /&gt;ON THE BEACH by Nevil Shute&lt;br /&gt;A PORTRAIT OF THE ARTIST AS A YOUNG MAN by James Joyce&lt;br /&gt;GREENMANTLE by Charles de Lint&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strike&gt;ENDER'S GAME by Orson Scott Card&lt;/strike&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE LITTLE COUNTRY by Charles de Lint&lt;br /&gt;THE RECOGNITIONS by William Gaddis&lt;br /&gt;STARSHIP TROOPERS by Robert Heinlein&lt;br /&gt;THE SUN ALSO RISES by Ernest Hemingway&lt;br /&gt;THE WORLD ACCORDING TO GARP by John Irving&lt;br /&gt;SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES by Ray Bradbury&lt;br /&gt;THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE by Shirley Jackson&lt;br /&gt;AS I LAY DYING by William Faulkner&lt;br /&gt;TROPIC OF CANCER by Henry Miller&lt;br /&gt;INVISIBLE MAN by Ralph Ellison&lt;br /&gt;THE WOOD WIFE by Terri Windling&lt;br /&gt;THE MAGUS by John Fowles&lt;br /&gt;THE DOOR INTO SUMMER by Robert Heinlein&lt;br /&gt;ZEN AND THE ART OF MOTORCYCLE MAINTENANCE by Robert Pirsig&lt;br /&gt;I, CLAUDIUS by Robert Graves&lt;br /&gt;THE CALL OF THE WILD by Jack London&lt;br /&gt;AT SWIM-TWO-BIRDS by Flann O'Brien&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strike&gt;FARENHEIT 451 by Ray Bradbury&lt;/strike&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ARROWSMITH by Sinclair Lewis&lt;br /&gt;WATERSHIP DOWN by Richard Adams&lt;br /&gt;NAKED LUNCH by William S. Burroughs&lt;br /&gt;THE HUNT FOR RED OCTOBER by Tom Clancy&lt;br /&gt;GUILTY PLEASURES by Laurell K. Hamilton&lt;br /&gt;THE PUPPET MASTERS by Robert Heinlein&lt;br /&gt;IT by Stephen King&lt;br /&gt;V. by Thomas Pynchon&lt;br /&gt;DOUBLE STAR by Robert Heinlein&lt;br /&gt;CITIZEN OF THE GALAXY by Robert Heinlein&lt;br /&gt;BRIDESHEAD REVISITED by Evelyn Waugh&lt;br /&gt;LIGHT IN AUGUST by William Faulkner&lt;br /&gt;ONE FLEW OVER THE CUCKOO'S NEST by Ken Kesey&lt;br /&gt;A FAREWELL TO ARMS by Ernest Hemingway&lt;br /&gt;THE SHELTERING SKY by Paul Bowles&lt;br /&gt;SOMETIMES A GREAT NOTION by Ken Kesey&lt;br /&gt;MY ANTONIA by Willa Cather&lt;br /&gt;MULENGRO by Charles de Lint&lt;br /&gt;SUTTREE by Cormac McCarthy&lt;br /&gt;MYTHAGO WOOD by Robert Holdstock&lt;br /&gt;ILLUSIONS by Richard Bach&lt;br /&gt;THE CUNNING MAN by Robertson Davies&lt;br /&gt;THE SATANIC VERSES by Salman Rushdie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Personal List:&lt;br /&gt;SEX, DRUGS, AND COCOA PUFFS by&lt;br /&gt;A HEARTBREAKING WORK OF STAGGERING GENIUS by Dave Eggers&lt;br /&gt;CORALINE by Neil Gaiman&lt;br /&gt;THE HEART IS DECEITFUL ABOVE ALL THINGS by JT LeRoy&lt;br /&gt;STARGIRL by Jerry Spinelli (again)&lt;br /&gt;GO ASK ALICE by Anonymous/Beatrice Sparks&lt;br /&gt;VINTAGE, A GHOST STORY by Steve Berman&lt;br /&gt;CUT by Patricia McCormick&lt;br /&gt;LOVE LESSONS by David Belbin&lt;br /&gt;ANNIE ON MY MIND by Nancy Garden&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1566916105024101979-5859066666419726786?l=thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/feeds/5859066666419726786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1566916105024101979&amp;postID=5859066666419726786' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/5859066666419726786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/5859066666419726786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/2008/11/our-scars-are-our-personal-table-of.html' title='our scars are our personal table of contents'/><author><name>valiant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05226235975531819657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dDiLdbVxGqs/SQ436g3dOLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RPCmSssLTMA/S220/splitting+headache.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1566916105024101979.post-8112878910805935673</id><published>2008-10-31T16:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-31T16:48:42.090-07:00</updated><title type='text'>does he lay awake listening to your breath</title><content type='html'>worried you smoke too many cigarettes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i am in love with the most beautiful girl in the world&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1566916105024101979-8112878910805935673?l=thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/feeds/8112878910805935673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1566916105024101979&amp;postID=8112878910805935673' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/8112878910805935673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/8112878910805935673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/2008/10/does-he-lay-awake-listening-to-your.html' title='does he lay awake listening to your breath'/><author><name>valiant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05226235975531819657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dDiLdbVxGqs/SQ436g3dOLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RPCmSssLTMA/S220/splitting+headache.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1566916105024101979.post-7719609009551486817</id><published>2008-10-29T16:57:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-29T16:57:53.330-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i found this and it made me think of kayla:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“People are unreasonable, illogical, and self-centered. Love them anyway. If you do good, people may accuse you of selfish motives. Do good anyway. If you are successful, you may win false friends and true enemies. Succeed anyway. The good you do today may be forgotten tomorrow. Do good anyway. Honesty and transparency make you vulnerable. Be honest and transparent anyway. What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight. Build anyway. People who really want help may attack you if you help them. Help them anyway. Give the world the best you have and you may get hurt. Give the world your best anyway.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;silly bear, i want you to dream again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1566916105024101979-7719609009551486817?l=thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/feeds/7719609009551486817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1566916105024101979&amp;postID=7719609009551486817' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/7719609009551486817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/7719609009551486817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/2008/10/i-found-this-and-it-made-me-think-of.html' title=''/><author><name>valiant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05226235975531819657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dDiLdbVxGqs/SQ436g3dOLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RPCmSssLTMA/S220/splitting+headache.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1566916105024101979.post-7704382451979404005</id><published>2008-10-29T16:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-29T16:43:04.449-07:00</updated><title type='text'>collide like dying suns</title><content type='html'>catch lightning in your killing jar&lt;br /&gt;tack your luck to the wall like moths or butterflies&lt;br /&gt;birds with stiff wings and glass eyes that dont sing you to sleep&lt;br /&gt;shed feathers onto your floor&lt;br /&gt;the inside of my mouth is all cut up&lt;br /&gt;maybe from eating nothing but my own words&lt;br /&gt;you'd think by now i'd have learned enough to speak what i feel&lt;br /&gt;sick of being so damned tragic&lt;br /&gt;stitch up your mouth and tape shut your eyes&lt;br /&gt;sing yourself some lullabies&lt;br /&gt;dream of a little king who read the bible at night&lt;br /&gt;and the girl with blonde hair who dies in the moonlight&lt;br /&gt;every other tuesday (including major holidays)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;nothing but a goddamned traitor&lt;br /&gt;very still, very quiet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1566916105024101979-7704382451979404005?l=thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/feeds/7704382451979404005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1566916105024101979&amp;postID=7704382451979404005' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/7704382451979404005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/7704382451979404005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/2008/10/collide-like-dying-suns.html' title='collide like dying suns'/><author><name>valiant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05226235975531819657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dDiLdbVxGqs/SQ436g3dOLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RPCmSssLTMA/S220/splitting+headache.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1566916105024101979.post-5621872089129602138</id><published>2008-10-27T18:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-27T18:12:21.332-07:00</updated><title type='text'>your timing is off</title><content type='html'>i won't eat anymore because i think you might be poisoning me&lt;br /&gt;you have a habit of ruining the mood&lt;br /&gt;the planes fly low over head and with whats left of my fingernails&lt;br /&gt;im digging into the skin beneath my lids&lt;br /&gt;you talk about the bills that need to be paid&lt;br /&gt;you talk about how you have to go to the dentists soon maybe&lt;br /&gt;you talk about how he's leaving on saturday and how you have therapy&lt;br /&gt;and i mention how now you have something to talk about.&lt;br /&gt;"what makes you think you could ever escape this?"&lt;br /&gt;he could end up at the bottom of everything.&lt;br /&gt;crash into the deep blue sea while everyone swallows their film and downs shots and&lt;br /&gt;drag their fingers over the black box.&lt;br /&gt;on and on and on&lt;br /&gt;hang up redial&lt;br /&gt;on and on and on&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;vampire hours&lt;br /&gt;truth be told the thing i'm looking forward to most is crawling out the window at night&lt;br /&gt;without his watchdog eyes gleaming with the reflection from the tv&lt;br /&gt;my lungs are swollen with the breath i'm holding waiting for you&lt;br /&gt;i wonder how long it takes for the heart to decay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what i wouldn't give to feel your bones digging into my knuckles&lt;br /&gt;you can't talk without teeth&lt;br /&gt;thank fucking god maybe i'll get some sleep tonight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i honestly think you're poisoning me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in other news: you. babygirl lookin so sad. you.  bleeding out in the dirt. shine so bright its insane.&lt;br /&gt;i have some secret words i found to share, i am in love with this person i don't know but i would like to live and sleep inside of their words for a while.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1566916105024101979-5621872089129602138?l=thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/feeds/5621872089129602138/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1566916105024101979&amp;postID=5621872089129602138' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/5621872089129602138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/5621872089129602138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/2008/10/your-timing-is-off.html' title='your timing is off'/><author><name>valiant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05226235975531819657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dDiLdbVxGqs/SQ436g3dOLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RPCmSssLTMA/S220/splitting+headache.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1566916105024101979.post-6590898635480312303</id><published>2008-10-27T15:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-27T15:43:32.894-07:00</updated><title type='text'>do what you need to be happy</title><content type='html'>death is just natures way of telling you to slow down.&lt;br /&gt;the hardest part of all of this is realizing i'm okay without you, i hope you are the same way.&lt;br /&gt;and its not so much regretting anything as knowing now it didn't have to be done.&lt;br /&gt;my faith is on the path to renewal right now, maybe i'll run into you on a lonely city street some night.&lt;br /&gt;i've been listening to a lot of spill canvas and bright eyes recently, its putting my head back in the right place.&lt;br /&gt;finished perks of being a wallflower again.&lt;br /&gt;two years ago it completely rearranged everything i am, and it did it again.&lt;br /&gt;not so much anything that happens in the book but the way it is said and how maybe i've looked right through some people who are like that, and how much i might be missing out.&lt;br /&gt;i bet somewhere in this world there is someone who happy and in love right now and sometimes that is enough for me.&lt;br /&gt;does that mean i'm okay too? when you are happy other peoples happiness is nice to see as well, but when you're not, it hurts or makes you angry.&lt;br /&gt;maybe this is me trying to be a better person.&lt;br /&gt;my hands aren't even cold right now, and you are humming in the back room with the shades drawn.&lt;br /&gt;dear god the things you do to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tongue stitched up to the roof of my mouth.&lt;br /&gt;kept some wishes in my back molars but your mouth tricked them out of hiding.&lt;br /&gt;threw up fairytales in the bathroom sink but now you're living one.&lt;br /&gt;in the cemetary there is an angel whose face is black and bruised and has ink under its fingernails.&lt;br /&gt;cold to the touch.&lt;br /&gt;voodoo doll on lonely strings. your skin is so pale and i can trace the bluepurpleblue veins trickling up and down under it.  over muscle, over bone. i never had a mind to make out constellations but for some reason i remember each freckle on your wrist or cheek.&lt;br /&gt;dont throw stones at glass hearts.&lt;br /&gt;i would cast a spell over the whole city if it meant stopping the noise for a moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;currently: in love with words and voices, still taking some time off. listening for your voice every five seconds.&lt;br /&gt;you are my sunshine, my only sunshine.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1566916105024101979-6590898635480312303?l=thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/feeds/6590898635480312303/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1566916105024101979&amp;postID=6590898635480312303' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/6590898635480312303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/6590898635480312303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/2008/10/do-what-you-need-to-be-happy.html' title='do what you need to be happy'/><author><name>valiant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05226235975531819657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dDiLdbVxGqs/SQ436g3dOLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RPCmSssLTMA/S220/splitting+headache.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1566916105024101979.post-7309771133472378522</id><published>2008-10-17T22:25:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-17T22:37:30.626-07:00</updated><title type='text'>and maybe you're just around the next corner</title><content type='html'>or maybe i'm just not looking hard enough.&lt;br /&gt;right now my heart is on a redeye transcontinental flight from new york to l.a.&lt;br /&gt;or chicago to miami.&lt;br /&gt;from here to there and back again.&lt;br /&gt;point A, point B. no point me.&lt;br /&gt;he is probably in love with someone who throws up a hundred dollars after every dinner&lt;br /&gt;who has measurements stained across her waist.&lt;br /&gt;save it for your casket.&lt;br /&gt;i've spent so many years clawing at the wood and nails.&lt;br /&gt;everythings splintered, everyone scattered.&lt;br /&gt;its not the same one moment to the next.&lt;br /&gt;tucked your tears into vodka bottles beneath your bedroom floor.&lt;br /&gt;one foot in your bedroom, one foot out the door.&lt;br /&gt;purring and lurching like an engine in your chest.&lt;br /&gt;treating hearts like cars. always trading up.&lt;br /&gt;the stars at night aren't as big and bright as you make them out to be-&lt;br /&gt;and every wish we make is on stars beamed out ages ago.&lt;br /&gt;or they bleed into the moments just after 11:11.&lt;br /&gt;give in give out or give up.&lt;br /&gt;or just sleep for a while.&lt;br /&gt;let the sandman steal you again.&lt;br /&gt;go to neverland and play pretend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;stop believing and you start falling.&lt;br /&gt;they say experience is the best teacher...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1566916105024101979-7309771133472378522?l=thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/feeds/7309771133472378522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1566916105024101979&amp;postID=7309771133472378522' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/7309771133472378522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/7309771133472378522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/2008/10/and-maybe-youre-just-around-next-corner.html' title='and maybe you&apos;re just around the next corner'/><author><name>valiant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05226235975531819657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dDiLdbVxGqs/SQ436g3dOLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RPCmSssLTMA/S220/splitting+headache.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1566916105024101979.post-1820125329847591515</id><published>2008-10-11T22:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-11T22:37:17.764-07:00</updated><title type='text'>oh darling i know what you're going through</title><content type='html'>"You’re like a fire fly, a spark, a glow, a match in the darkness. And I will go wherever the light takes me. "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;moth wing skin.&lt;br /&gt;fall to pieces beneath your fingertips.&lt;br /&gt;the only converstations that matter are the ones between&lt;br /&gt;your hands and someone elses skin.&lt;br /&gt;i was born for the small of your back.&lt;br /&gt;the headlights illuminated the veins threaded beneath&lt;br /&gt;the paleness of your skin&lt;br /&gt;caught the light and exploded into viole(n)t color.&lt;br /&gt;the only ones who want to burn out quietly in the night are the tired and defeated.&lt;br /&gt;i've still got the spark in my veins to keep me warm&lt;br /&gt;now that you're not here putting out cigarettes on my lungs.&lt;br /&gt;did you hide his bones beneath your floorboards&lt;br /&gt;the walls have ears thet lean in to listen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dream to remember, sleep to forget.&lt;br /&gt;here's to no more promises.&lt;br /&gt;to not giving a fuck.&lt;br /&gt;to watching the blood wash down the drain&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1566916105024101979-1820125329847591515?l=thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/feeds/1820125329847591515/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1566916105024101979&amp;postID=1820125329847591515' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/1820125329847591515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/1820125329847591515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/2008/10/oh-darling-i-know-what-youre-going.html' title='oh darling i know what you&apos;re going through'/><author><name>valiant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05226235975531819657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dDiLdbVxGqs/SQ436g3dOLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RPCmSssLTMA/S220/splitting+headache.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1566916105024101979.post-6264384190127465160</id><published>2008-10-11T05:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-11T05:07:53.063-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i can barely feel anything real</title><content type='html'>happiness is overrated. i think i'll just sleep a long long long long time &amp;amp; hope i wake up where i'm supposed to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if i'm supposed to be anywhere.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1566916105024101979-6264384190127465160?l=thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/feeds/6264384190127465160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1566916105024101979&amp;postID=6264384190127465160' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/6264384190127465160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/6264384190127465160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/2008/10/i-can-barely-feel-anything-real.html' title='i can barely feel anything real'/><author><name>valiant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05226235975531819657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dDiLdbVxGqs/SQ436g3dOLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RPCmSssLTMA/S220/splitting+headache.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1566916105024101979.post-4274532180734057568</id><published>2008-10-09T12:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-09T12:26:36.287-07:00</updated><title type='text'>you &amp; i always made more sense written down than standing up</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://s110.photobucket.com/albums/n105/SaviorAerith/we%20are%20content/?action=view&amp;amp;current=butimmorethanalittleafraidoflifehel.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n105/SaviorAerith/we%20are%20content/butimmorethanalittleafraidoflifehel.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;But I'm afraid to keep on living without you.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1566916105024101979-4274532180734057568?l=thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/feeds/4274532180734057568/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1566916105024101979&amp;postID=4274532180734057568' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/4274532180734057568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/4274532180734057568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/2008/10/you-i-always-made-more-sense-written.html' title='you &amp; i always made more sense written down than standing up'/><author><name>valiant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05226235975531819657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dDiLdbVxGqs/SQ436g3dOLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RPCmSssLTMA/S220/splitting+headache.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n105/SaviorAerith/we%20are%20content/th_butimmorethanalittleafraidoflifehel.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1566916105024101979.post-4646230577688083521</id><published>2008-10-07T14:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-29T14:27:03.246-07:00</updated><title type='text'>they say there are plenty of fish in the sea. but i dont want fish. i want you.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://pleasefindthis.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://pleasefindthis.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1566916105024101979-4646230577688083521?l=thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/feeds/4646230577688083521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1566916105024101979&amp;postID=4646230577688083521' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/4646230577688083521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/4646230577688083521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/2008/10/httppleasefindthisblogspotcom.html' title='they say there are plenty of fish in the sea. but i dont want fish. i want you.'/><author><name>valiant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05226235975531819657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dDiLdbVxGqs/SQ436g3dOLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RPCmSssLTMA/S220/splitting+headache.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1566916105024101979.post-8965002853662398012</id><published>2008-10-04T17:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-04T17:18:51.439-07:00</updated><title type='text'>and kiss those dying ears so softly that the reaper stops to swoon</title><content type='html'>galaxy eater.&lt;br /&gt;swallow constellations until the stars ring your insides like tiny christmas lights.&lt;br /&gt;my breath rises up like smoke &amp;amp; i think of you.&lt;br /&gt;i'm sorry if i'm making this hard.&lt;br /&gt;i'm sorry if i ever make or made you sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i just wish you hadn't told me i'll always be alone.&lt;br /&gt;i just wish you weren't right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"if you can hear me, knock twice on your casket door"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1566916105024101979-8965002853662398012?l=thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/feeds/8965002853662398012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1566916105024101979&amp;postID=8965002853662398012' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/8965002853662398012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/8965002853662398012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/2008/10/and-kiss-those-dying-ears-so-softly.html' title='and kiss those dying ears so softly that the reaper stops to swoon'/><author><name>valiant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05226235975531819657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dDiLdbVxGqs/SQ436g3dOLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RPCmSssLTMA/S220/splitting+headache.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1566916105024101979.post-2199776787544525077</id><published>2008-09-30T16:46:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-30T16:58:50.214-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i'll write this song to win your kiss but stay asleep instead</title><content type='html'>today i walked through the fog crushing dandelions grown up through the concrete and dreamt of driving through the city. i'd hook up an apparatus filled with gasoline and mark my path through the streets like some explosive form of breadcrumbs. ignite. and watch the world burn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;its not as sick as they think it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you are the worse habit ever. 'you can't miss what you never had'. exploding too slowly for anyone to notice.  you never start the rescue effort during the calm before the storm. you wait for the waves to crash and roofs to fall in and water levels to rise. you wait for the death count. and try to salvage what you can. measure your losses. i'll fuck up the city of my bones and muscle so bad they'll leave me as ruins. a sign of what not to become. atlantis, crushed on the sea floor. legendary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'll sing for you until these nicotine lungs collapse. smoke and ash under my tongue, surrounding my teeth &amp;amp; gums. addiction underneath my fingernails. count your wishes on my ribcage. one day my liver will put in my two weeks notice, how many years after my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you are still my worst habit. i'm not as sick as they say i am, i swear. fuckedfuckedfucked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;carved into my tombstone: "don't try." you are the epidemic beneath my skin. you always remember your first. thinking you love someone is just as bad as loving/hating them. you've got these tired eyes all the time. but i'll think of you every day until i die. until i rot.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1566916105024101979-2199776787544525077?l=thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/feeds/2199776787544525077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1566916105024101979&amp;postID=2199776787544525077' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/2199776787544525077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/2199776787544525077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/2008/09/ill-write-this-song-to-win-your-kiss.html' title='i&apos;ll write this song to win your kiss but stay asleep instead'/><author><name>valiant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05226235975531819657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dDiLdbVxGqs/SQ436g3dOLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RPCmSssLTMA/S220/splitting+headache.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1566916105024101979.post-1977637792640958827</id><published>2008-09-29T14:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-30T16:41:57.307-07:00</updated><title type='text'>glass passenger</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;he said, "i can die as well as any man."&lt;/p&gt;neuron love.&lt;br /&gt;machine gun heart.&lt;br /&gt;fire at anything that moves.&lt;br /&gt;the glow hollowed out my beins.&lt;br /&gt;a key is useless without a lock &amp;amp;&lt;br /&gt;we traded trust for deadbolts and shotguns.&lt;br /&gt;ruby slipper wishes&lt;br /&gt;if home is where the heart is&lt;br /&gt;mines been burnt to the ground&lt;br /&gt;ashes stuck to your soles&lt;br /&gt;the dead dont make a sound&lt;br /&gt;black hole head&lt;br /&gt;nothing shines behind shuttered lids&lt;br /&gt;underdeveloped &amp;amp; overexposed&lt;br /&gt;i want to know things about you that&lt;br /&gt;no one else knows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;down they forgot as up they grew.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1566916105024101979-1977637792640958827?l=thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/feeds/1977637792640958827/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1566916105024101979&amp;postID=1977637792640958827' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/1977637792640958827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/1977637792640958827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/2008/09/glass-passenger.html' title='glass passenger'/><author><name>valiant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05226235975531819657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dDiLdbVxGqs/SQ436g3dOLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RPCmSssLTMA/S220/splitting+headache.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1566916105024101979.post-511814364729791703</id><published>2008-09-26T14:09:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-26T14:09:50.670-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>what do i do now?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1566916105024101979-511814364729791703?l=thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/feeds/511814364729791703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1566916105024101979&amp;postID=511814364729791703' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/511814364729791703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/511814364729791703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/2008/09/what-do-i-do-now.html' title=''/><author><name>valiant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05226235975531819657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dDiLdbVxGqs/SQ436g3dOLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RPCmSssLTMA/S220/splitting+headache.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1566916105024101979.post-853725526833337871</id><published>2008-09-23T15:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-23T15:58:17.304-07:00</updated><title type='text'>you are the one person i would crash cars with all night</title><content type='html'>but i can almost see that silver band on your finger already.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1566916105024101979-853725526833337871?l=thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/feeds/853725526833337871/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1566916105024101979&amp;postID=853725526833337871' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/853725526833337871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/853725526833337871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/2008/09/you-are-one-person-i-would-crash-cars.html' title='you are the one person i would crash cars with all night'/><author><name>valiant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05226235975531819657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dDiLdbVxGqs/SQ436g3dOLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RPCmSssLTMA/S220/splitting+headache.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1566916105024101979.post-6560526499334562397</id><published>2008-09-22T17:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-22T17:54:09.866-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"there is one person on this planet that i would love to lay on a curb with and count on the stars.</title><content type='html'>its too bad you are asleep."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1566916105024101979-6560526499334562397?l=thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/feeds/6560526499334562397/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1566916105024101979&amp;postID=6560526499334562397' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/6560526499334562397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/6560526499334562397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/2008/09/there-is-one-person-on-this-planet-that.html' title='&quot;there is one person on this planet that i would love to lay on a curb with and count on the stars.'/><author><name>valiant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05226235975531819657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dDiLdbVxGqs/SQ436g3dOLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RPCmSssLTMA/S220/splitting+headache.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1566916105024101979.post-4763924054740583683</id><published>2008-09-21T12:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-21T12:14:58.988-07:00</updated><title type='text'>secret oath</title><content type='html'>talk is cheap.&lt;br /&gt;and i've got short arms and deep pockets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i guess what i mean to say is the way the last light played out against your skin makes me sick. bubble and fizz.&lt;br /&gt;warm hands pressing for mine in the dark.&lt;br /&gt;i spoke about pale skin and freckles&lt;br /&gt;held those tarnished keys to my lips.&lt;br /&gt;everyone always asks.&lt;br /&gt;i say, it just seems right.&lt;br /&gt;love songs on every station,&lt;br /&gt;and my whole mouth just tastes like cheap metal.&lt;br /&gt;metal and bone.&lt;br /&gt;he looks at me like he knows im playing a game.&lt;br /&gt;not like sorry or life&lt;br /&gt;like chicken on the highway&lt;br /&gt;he turns off the headlights and strays into the next lane just for me&lt;br /&gt;laughter dripping down your chin&lt;br /&gt;"how alive would we feel with concrete in our skin and steel crashed into our mouths"&lt;br /&gt;he says he doesnt know.&lt;br /&gt;turn the dial, another love song.&lt;br /&gt;the key turns my lips a strange color that lasts the rest of the night.&lt;br /&gt;he breathes on my neck before i go to sleep,&lt;br /&gt;i turn on my side and wonder if tonights the night i dont wake up from.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;freckle freckle what makes you so special.&lt;br /&gt;i dreamt that you tugged cigarette fingers around my wrist and cried with de(e/a)r in the headlight eyes wide open&lt;br /&gt;ribs whittled down like a skeleton&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1566916105024101979-4763924054740583683?l=thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/feeds/4763924054740583683/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1566916105024101979&amp;postID=4763924054740583683' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/4763924054740583683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/4763924054740583683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/2008/09/secret-oath.html' title='secret oath'/><author><name>valiant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05226235975531819657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dDiLdbVxGqs/SQ436g3dOLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RPCmSssLTMA/S220/splitting+headache.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1566916105024101979.post-8253359082997957943</id><published>2008-09-13T09:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-13T09:57:37.616-07:00</updated><title type='text'>woe</title><content type='html'>that boy burns like a furnace.&lt;br /&gt;nicotine lungs,&lt;br /&gt;smoke em out.&lt;br /&gt;strapped down, hospital bed crawl,&lt;br /&gt;they tell him, "and breathe out."&lt;br /&gt;release/sing/unlock/unwind.&lt;br /&gt;she asks, did you know hearts look like fists covered in blood?&lt;br /&gt;and he breathes out.&lt;br /&gt;she asks, did you know that if you fold 1000 paper cranes your wishes are granted?&lt;br /&gt;and he breathes out.&lt;br /&gt;tangled in red string, hung from the moon.&lt;br /&gt;dreams hooked up to hospital machines, flatlining and eyes glossy.&lt;br /&gt;the vodka makes her waltz like a ballerina.&lt;br /&gt;you'd never know the difference minus the redrimmed gaze&lt;br /&gt;and the way her breath washes over you like a hangover.&lt;br /&gt;got a body of wax&lt;br /&gt;a heart of glass&lt;br /&gt;your mouth tastes like metal and bone.&lt;br /&gt;and breathe out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1566916105024101979-8253359082997957943?l=thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/feeds/8253359082997957943/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1566916105024101979&amp;postID=8253359082997957943' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/8253359082997957943'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/8253359082997957943'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/2008/09/woe.html' title='woe'/><author><name>valiant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05226235975531819657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dDiLdbVxGqs/SQ436g3dOLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RPCmSssLTMA/S220/splitting+headache.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1566916105024101979.post-9081326226499006509</id><published>2008-09-11T17:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-11T17:44:04.767-07:00</updated><title type='text'>get in my bed, i wanna kill you</title><content type='html'>tell me how that concrete tasted digging into your bones&lt;br /&gt;an elixer of blood and teeth&lt;br /&gt;that house is alive&lt;br /&gt;it breathes and whispers and you creep down hallways&lt;br /&gt;for you my heart unfurls like a flag&lt;br /&gt;for you i have hurricanes in the back of my mind&lt;br /&gt;thunder bursting in my spine, floodgates in my eyes.&lt;br /&gt;when it comes down to it&lt;br /&gt;i guess we'll just wait and see&lt;br /&gt;hung my heart on a hook and threw it out to sea...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1566916105024101979-9081326226499006509?l=thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/feeds/9081326226499006509/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1566916105024101979&amp;postID=9081326226499006509' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/9081326226499006509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/9081326226499006509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/2008/09/get-in-my-bed-i-wanna-kill-you.html' title='get in my bed, i wanna kill you'/><author><name>valiant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05226235975531819657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dDiLdbVxGqs/SQ436g3dOLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RPCmSssLTMA/S220/splitting+headache.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1566916105024101979.post-6861210512519267060</id><published>2008-09-07T16:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-07T16:33:36.989-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i must confess i am in love with my sins</title><content type='html'>lovesick in bathroom sinks&lt;br /&gt;lions with teeth roam city streets&lt;br /&gt;digging shallow graves into your wrists&lt;br /&gt;your empire will fall one day&lt;br /&gt;scars up your spine, make your dreams mine&lt;br /&gt;at night I’m just running reels of white noise and static through my eyes&lt;br /&gt;wake up with ashes smudged in your lashes&lt;br /&gt;blood underneath your fingernails&lt;br /&gt;up in arms&lt;br /&gt;“ ‘theres plenty of fish in the sea’, quip pretty fishermen in stocked lakes and fish farms”&lt;br /&gt;i don’t need streets paved with gold&lt;br /&gt;or your fucking hourly wage&lt;br /&gt;i just want to get through the night without clawing at my throat&lt;br /&gt;aching for breath&lt;br /&gt;one day we’re going to use up all our wishes&lt;br /&gt;and the stars will die out&lt;br /&gt;when you’re alone in that darkness&lt;br /&gt;who is going to hold your hand?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i don’t care where you head lies, as long as it is close to mine.&lt;br /&gt;i don’t care what you think, as long as its about me.&lt;br /&gt;tell me if I smashed you head in how good would the secrets that pour out be&lt;br /&gt;etc, etc.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1566916105024101979-6861210512519267060?l=thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/feeds/6861210512519267060/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1566916105024101979&amp;postID=6861210512519267060' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/6861210512519267060'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/6861210512519267060'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/2008/09/i-must-confess-i-am-in-love-with-my.html' title='i must confess i am in love with my sins'/><author><name>valiant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05226235975531819657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dDiLdbVxGqs/SQ436g3dOLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RPCmSssLTMA/S220/splitting+headache.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1566916105024101979.post-3597497085962296426</id><published>2008-08-15T18:22:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-15T18:22:17.390-07:00</updated><title type='text'>you seem like the type of girl</title><content type='html'>who puts out her cigarette in her beer and forgets and tries to drink from it a half hour later--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and maybe your future to you just looks like the white bottom of a red plastic cup&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1566916105024101979-3597497085962296426?l=thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/feeds/3597497085962296426/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1566916105024101979&amp;postID=3597497085962296426' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/3597497085962296426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1566916105024101979/posts/default/3597497085962296426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebutterfliesinyourstomacheffect.blogspot.com/2008/08/you-seem-like-type-of-girl.html' title='you seem like the type of girl'/><author><name>valiant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05226235975531819657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dDiLdbVxGqs/SQ436g3dOLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/RPCmSssLTMA/S220/splitting+headache.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
