I am not used to being treated like the princess you think i am. I teater on this pedestal you’ve put me on, my fear of heights growing stonger all the time. One of these days i know i will fall and smash into a thousand pieces like a mirror accidentally pushed onto a tile floor. This perfect image will shatter leaving only bits and pieces of the angel you thought i was. You will have seven years of bad luck in love and i will be left an angel with broken wings.

Hello There! It appears that I will be the first one posting on the new site. I’m Liz and i hope to have a bio set up soon but for now you’ll just have to imagine what i’m like. Until i get creatively juiced i’ll be sharing some of my older writings. I will appreciate any feed back anyone has to offer. So for my first entry here’s my poem entitled Bitter Thoughts
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I feel like getting drunk, or chain smoking, or doing some drug or another, anything that makes feeling bored and useless seem entertaining. Why is it regardless of the plans you’ve got for yourself you can fall in that rut, that tiny meaningless pothole that makes everything look ten feet tall, makes your dreams seem unatainable. I go through the days one after another pushing ahead knowing if i can just hold out to “this day” i’ll make it. Beating off that smothering depression with a filled day planner and the insistence that i’m beyond it now and it can’t catch me, take me over, make me it’s puppet again. It won’t win but it’s tiring as all hell. Fuck it i need a smoke…….i’ll quit another time.

hey you know what working at this job is finally starting to pay off. I’ve been working seven days a week now for a few months with no less than 100 hours for a two week time sheet for crap pay and shitty treatment and lots of stress. But! i think my worth has finally been recognized! Did i get a raise??? No no raise. I got two tickets to a Jazz Benefit dinner that nobody wanted. But i get to leave early and i get free dinner out of it so why am i complaining. sigh