Reminders of human-ness

The heart that beats inside my chest reminds me of my life--my life of constancy, of monotony, of slow, rhythmic beating. The heart that pumps blood into my veins and sends streams of red down my scratched skin. The heart that trembles at the sight of misfortune and delights in its own wallowing misery. The heart that longs for love but avoids the thrashing damage of heartbreak.

I'm awakened to my sense of imperfection and humanity when I make mistakes; I stand steady until I'm alone. I know I'm human when I lay flat on my mattress and cry. Cry until the hot tears run down my face and down my cheeks and into my ears and down into me where their wet whispers tell me I'm imperfect and I'm awful and that Nobody likes me. Their salty solution stains my satin pillow and remind me of my faults.

i
           cant
                      tell
                              you
                                        how
                                                   much
                                                                  i would love
                                                                                         to  be
                                                                                                                a
                                                                                                                                   robot.
And who knows, I could be. But my inadequate lungs try their hardest to keep up with me, and my arms can't hold my heartdesires. My chest rises without fail. My brain never stops talking, but can never compute.
I know I can't possibly be a robot when I attempt to close my eyes and instead hear taunts and fantasies from an unorganized novel that will never be published.

I hope, I desire, I crave. I feel, I wait, I want. I hate bad endings and I hate being subject to servitude. I hate, I detest, I feel contempt. I taste, I discover, I create. I long for originality but I copy and paste. I wonder, I learn, I am lost in confusion. I make mistakes and I crash the car and I burn myself and cut myself and bruise myself and burn and cut and bruise everyone else.

I tempt.

*Alice

A tempting Introduction for the hard-hearted.

Unoriginality may or may not be my middle name, but for now, my name is
Alice.
Alice, Alice, Alice.
A traditional name for an eccentric girl who never understood the world. Alice, like wonderland. Alice, with the last name C.
C. for conventional, C. for Cooper (as in the 60's rock star), C. as in "Can't have no last name".
Simply put, I'm Alice and I'm an avid reader. Writer. Doodler.

I wish there was a way to stop stretching the truth. I wish there was a day when I could be original, unique, alone. If I could touch my toes then you would like me. Read me. Love me. Surround me with endless compliments, even if they are lies. Lie about who you are. Lie about what you think. Pretend you know me, pretend I'm your lost dog or your best friend or your dead grandma. Pretend I'm Alice in Wonderland, pretend I'm Alice Cooper the rock star, pretend that I'm Alice.
But never Alicia.

There's already somebody else with the name Alice.

HOW conventional, HOW old-time-english, HOW unprofessional and uncreative.

I tried to impress you and I've plummeted into an endless plume of hazardous smoke, full of the stench of high school and failures and drugs. I've tried and failed. I can see by the look on your face that you've already given up on me, that you've left Wonderland.
 
Whisper criticisms in my ear and flaunt your cruel words with endless torment at my secrets. I'll tempt, I'll lie, I'll take your hand and force you to touch. Don't acknowledge my existence until you can imagine my face screaming at your brain and holding your heart in my hands. I'm only scared to show you the Alice that envelops the dark ruins of my once-wonderland, destroyed by hate and scraped clean of all bitter innocence.

And I can never escape,
No matter how hard I try,
No matter how many times I fail,
No matter 
No matter
No matter

Tempt me.


Alice.