ccwandco

[ccwandco]

Train

The third form tumbles down the blanketed hill, and I can’t see anything except white before my eyes. Pale, open-ended stars adorn the reddish top above my head. It allows me to block out excess noise, but only at the end of the twelve month contract. The once soft and safe ground cover rubs the back of my neck and I grapple with a rock that makes the crucial decision to spill its caramel insides into the rushing curtains of water. I only catch a glimpse of my younger half-brother, falling in a similar fashion, before my body is sucked into an undertow far too complicated to escape from. But just before I’ve accepted the jazzy world of scarlet circling and unfurling around us, before I’ve fully understood how delicate I must be, we’re hacking through forest fingers and shuffling our bricks onward.

[ccwandco]

Buckle

The buckle upon my belt has become an allegory for resolve in a time where resolve was required. My silver pocket watch shoved against my side hangs by a chain-link, and I feel the air around the train condensing. I’ll forever be unsure if it’s the travelling that changes it or my own panicking lungs. But as we come to a screeching halt, and I’m ejected just a little bit more forward, I find that the skillful way I used to enter a fresh locus has become more selective. These days, I’ve lost the cudgel that came with my fire. Who’s to say that flame hasn’t eclipsed already? Smog and conversation through the bodies around me does nothing to aid the ache blooming inside, but it’s all I can do to plug up the sounds. I can mimic the roughness of the heroes I researched years ago, but at the bottom of everything I still detect an immaturity that I’m certain may never dissipate.

[ccwandco]

Tube

I would slide up and down and all around the treehouse, gaining blisters on my soles and bruises on my back, if it meant he’d come back to us. I’d delay the probable release of crucial information, maybe even create an axiomatic basin filled with our own blood and sweat. We’re stranded on an earthy duplicate without him - one that looks familiar but navigates like a blind man in the shadows. What was once harmonious tag-teaming and kicking butt has become a pasted-over billboard for chumps and deadbeats. “The clouds look different today,” she states beside me, and I try to live on knowing that she’s there, she always will evade the darkness like I told her to. But it’s strange, crookedly gazing at a sincere tell tale sign that is supposed to keep me grounded. It’s strange because in the back of my memory, the balance of the team has been thrown apart. We don’t do well evenly, let alone missing the first piece of our puzzle. “Things would be okay if it had been me that left,” I finally reply, and her expression reads equivocal. I’m sure she’ll never vocalize it, none of them will, but in their thoughts they agree with me. The cotton swabs above me can staticize.

[ccwandco]

Stool

The stumpy wooden stool my tailbone folds itself upon is digging into my thinned skin. I’m using my lilied hands to form a perfectly smooth ball out of greying clay, but it doesn’t seem to be working that nicely today. Creased imperfections and cracks of unanswered question fill up both the creation and my psyche. It’s a lot for one four year old to grapple with. Those sketches of narwhals and Bionicles adorn the decades-old walls of the bedroom I inhabit with my brother. All clearly formed by him. There was a little piece about me, a little chickadee’s voice tweeting towards an artistic side, yet I’d never be able to toss out a finger and truly be that person. Even now, as I see trunks being chopped down around me, I cannot follow the song. Maybe collecting up other people’s air isn’t actually horrific, but it sure feels like it is. The stool awaits me somewhere in storage, but the one who treasured it before may still remain in the flatness of its woodwork. A home built from unknowing edges of the way my existence truly came to be.

[ccwandco]

Sauce

Upon the sink of my father’s home lies a protest of tomato and herbal leaves. I carry myself as a parcel inside his private office. The damage is done, I know this, but the slam of defeat still floors me. His initial dryness holds hands around my throat, pulling at wires and twisting them in different routes. After all the sauce spills, and I’m a crumpled slip of paper, the hail will come from the top of his head. Genuinely, or so I believe in the moment. Sneaking out silently, slithering across the dining room to the stairwell. I begin the seasoned journey away, but he’ll sob out to me. Putrid scents invade my brain, but the furniture awaits the story. All the while the sauce still lingers, lifeless upon the sink. Never quite spotless and stained with an odor that will always, always scrunch me down again.

[ccwandco]

Cord

Extended, purple strands hang around my neck as I enter the industrial space. Far too unattractive to hold my head high with confidence, but I’ll find my group eventually. We’re closed off from the others - only some can claim to know what the outside is like. Later, we begin the march down from our higher ground, and I confess to myself that all those years of pushing carts and having my serotonin confiscated weren’t worth absolutely nothing. My anxiety levels may peak as the man beside me gives me a stern look, but the sleepiness of the entire ceremony plants different ideas inside my brain. The ship on the sea of students sinks, bringing me to their same level. I can’t tell if it’s a good or great thing. Memories of what they sounded like have actually dissipated, quite literally, and I still can’t tell. Looking back on how they’re doing seems so silly, but I feel it’s got to have some kind of yellow fever-induced lifestyle to it.

[ccwandco]

Deer

Maple syrup leaves gathered together in a cluster by the machine that kept my home breathing. A liberated day to perform intricate showings only the lone bird might see. Shifting my being into Buttercup, the toughest mountain peak I could call back to. A ruffle behind me as the drip of a garden’s snake came to a lethargic halt, the melon whipped behind. There, soaring like the moon’s light, came an almond deer. Thick branches, massive form, and chips the size of railroad wheels. Lips smushed together, the grassy floor beneath me unhinged, his majesty came and went. Wracking inside for a tipper’s clue, I came to the perfect conclusion. Not a soul agreed, and though I can crack my head apart, there’s no sense in changing a clamor of daydreams.

[ccwandco]

Notebook

The ones with the thin, metal, silver-y rings always rip apart by the end of the first half. The smallest pieces of murdered tree poke out, forming a gross look for all to glance at. But the worst part is always the rings. They scratch you when you least expect it, leaving white claw marks all over the side of your hands. Sometimes you sigh heavily while thinking about it, the fact that you’ll absolutely need to keep being scrapped with practically every morning until the end of May. Or even mid-December. Ripping out a piece of white lined murdered tree in the middle of the room, fluorescent lights stinging your eyeballs. Someone smells awfully like days-old diarrhea, but then, you think it must be your unwashed hands. The chrome glasses are on, as always, but it doesn’t help the light’s escape through it. Your lids fall closed, and nobody cares much. You’ve stopped showing up for now, and you really do feel a stone drop in your lower half as you glance around the dusty asbestos dormitory. Everyone’s so concerned with their own academic endeavors, yet you’re petrified of getting into a whole heap of concern with yourself. Good or bad, whether they scream obscenities and call you a failure or ship you off to the health center where they tell you to chew on some salad, it doesn’t much matter. You’re stuck and you’re sinking, lids glued shut for far longer than they ever were in class. Doomed from the start, setting yourself up to fail miserably every day for hours and hours as your lack of effort and drive to do anything kept you awake at night. Kept you sleeping in until way after everything had passed because you’re nothing but a plebeian with big dreams who can’t plan the day ahead of time. A pleb who won’t meditate even if they are cognizant of the fact that it’s great for them. All one can truly do is get on their busted knees and slap their hands on the hardly carpeted floor whilst chanting a decree that they will, they will do better and better.

[ccwandco]

Pepper

Pepper upon my tasteless chicken breast, sliced in small loaves that resemble the Wonder bread we supposedly needed for the toaster of Christ. Mother knows I never enjoyed her cooking, least of all the meats. I needed to consume the processed kind, the kind that molded itself into T-rexes and spaceships. The kind that came alongside weirdly solid chocolate pudding that almost always had one single piece of yellowed corn hidden inside. The corn went untouched, both in and outside the sweetness. Aside from the year it became my favorite dinner delectable, the blue plastic tray always fell into the spaghetti-stained, -stanky- trash container with its corn still intact, dropping out in little bits along the way. It could’ve been frustrated with the notion that I never wanted to warm it up with my saliva and digestive fluid. It most likely glanced at the macaroni on the other side, being slowly scooped by a dull silver spoon, and thought: “We look similar. Why does she not give me a try?” It definitely had dreams about its life inside my body, as it sobbed itself to sleep in the horrifying scents of the bottom of its Kroger bag knockoff resting place. Some were better than others, but what really tore the insides of the soft, unique kernels was the idea of never actually finding out what might happen if they had only been ingested. If they had only travelled down the rings that lined the back of her special hole. The day would never arrive, and some man with large hands and one hell of a cough would drag them to a colder place, where they’d take their last breath, rotting in a lean, plastic bin. “If only,” they still dreamed, closing off the world. “If only.”

[ccwandco]

Puddle

Whipping out a small blue rectangle of miniature proportions to snap a still of my body reflected in a dirty puddle of water on the path to the park was how I passed the time on after school days that I did not have to work. Mostly autumn, November I can see on the horizon clearly. The wind always blowing, my fingertips always freezing off. One or two pedestrians, sometimes together, walking patient canines or running in fuzzy workout sweaters, giant headbands pushing back their hair. I’d sit on a swing and make myself go high, higher, higher, whilst my white, earwax-caked pods pumped some tune I had deemed inspirational inside my ears. My hips would ache halfway through, and the swinging would leave my head and body nauseous. Yet I’d grin, adoring the chance to avoid any children or mothers who’d bitch and whine about how I’m too old to have a fun time at the park. Nobody brings their child to the park as it freezes over. The cold, dense metal that hung the swing in its place would come for my fingers. It always attempted to get me off, get me gone, gone, gone. I didn’t always resist, but when I finally did decide it was getting to be the time where I trudged back to my humble abode, I would never simply drag my feet along the mulch to slow myself. I’d swing myself as high as possible, reaching up to the icy blue ceiling with the rounded tips of the same black fuzzy snow boots I bought every year. Then I’d toss myself into that sky, always falling, always landing right where the ground hit my nerves. I would let out a shakier breath, I would let my heart start to pump itself a little bit faster. And then I’d crunch through the dirty leaf sandbox, past the water area closed for the winter, and back on the path, where maybe I’d catch a glance of one of those people. They might’ve uttered a greeting as they jogged past, and I was too into myself to notice. A sudden sprint of pattering on the salt covered blacktop as the tune still playing in my ear picked up during its final chorus.

[ccwandco]

Bottle

There was nothing quite like forcing myself to down the bottles solely for my own dizziness. I had gripped the cold glass from the fridge many sleepless nights before, creaking the floorboards and flashing myself in the eye with a yellowish kitchen light. My parents asleep in the other room, snoring softly. The cats padding up to me with their gentle paws and high-pitched mewing. Sometimes I was nude, with a soft cotton towel wrapped around my damp body, coarse, unbrushed hair dripping in a ponytail behind me. The darkness outside from the open window allowed me to glance at my reflection, and the fridge with the magnetic varieties where I grabbed the bottles from. I began to consider, as I downed half of the second drink, its warm punginess attacking my throat, causing me to gag and become hyper-aware of how fast I was breathing, if it had all been a bad decision based off of loneliness and the want to feel happy on such a special day. But then, as the dizziness floored me, and I began to move in the strangest ways, laugh heartily at the sounds of Stephen Root spitting phlegm at the Chechens, I recognized the beautiful outcome of forcing myself to chug the horrible retch-inducing liquid. The three trips I took to the bathroom out of sheer disparity of the fullest bladder were worth it. Feeling all the liquid I had squeezed into my admittedly still tiny, though albeit larger at the time, body rush out of my system was a wonderful feeling. The intensity of the orgasm I achieved was astounding. The realizations, the wild thrashing to Sidney Gish’s voice as I shrieked at the mirror, just loud enough that my parents might not wake from their slumber. It was all due to the liquid. I didn’t find my mind or stomach flipping upside down when I later viewed images of semi-former friends at a party together. I had wanted to feel my organs and laugh at things that weren’t funny, but I’d already had my fair share of that. Alone on New Year’s Eve, spilling Diet Mountain Dew on my head and not having a single drop of saltwater slide down my face was finally enough. And it continues to be.

[ccwandco]

(via https://open.spotify.com/track/0SGVHXDogk6KdngJvlrP2C?si=WO8AixZGTJKUF6wl24hOlA)

[ccwandco]

4:36 AM RANT BECAUSE I DONT WANT THEM EYEBALLS

to sterilize an entirely squeamish body

entirely like mine

to watch the dynamics of it

or vomit up everything I knew I shouldn’t have tried

I WASN’T LISTENING BLINDED BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN’D MY MIND

tomorrow will blend

like the rest

no secretary to read off the schedule

just a hermit who never touches my things

but I can point out my mistake

where I fall flat and look for hope

this was supposed to be

nor was it

[ccwandco]

I’m back and 20 pounds heavier. Who would’ve thought. I’ll be typing on here as often as possible because I CANNOT, and WILL NOT, allow myself to do this any longer.

[ccwandco]

Update

Hello! I just wanted to stop by and say that I will not be posting any daily reviews for the next few days. I suffered a breakdown today and have made the executive decision to leave all social media for a little bit. I know this isn’t technically social media for me since I don’t really interact with anybody, but still. Things have not been the greatest lately and I need a break. With that being said, I’ll probably be back around Tuesday or Wednesday, maybe even Monday. See you then! :)

[ccwandco]

Friday, July 19th, 2019 - 5:37 AM

I binged today. A lot. It really sucks because I’ve been doing so well, but as usual, I know there’s no real use in dwelling over what’s already happened. I just have to look forward to tomorrow (today!). I already have the day planned out, and hopefully it’s going to be a very productive one. I only have a 4 hour shift at work, so. Overall, today was semi-productive. Music is still a slow burn but I actually started producing one of my tracks? I wasn’t planning on it but I wanted to add a drum beat of some sort to it, and it went from there. My acne pills came in. I hope they help because I’ve kind of lost all hope when it comes to my skin. I’m heading off to college in nearly a month now. My official move-in day is August 21st. It’s kind of scary. We’re in the home stretch, and I still haven’t got all my shit together. I just have to take everything one day at a time. That’s all. I was supposed to go on that trip to Michigan with Tim and his boyfriend next week but we haven’t been in contact so I guess that’s not happening. I do still want to do the trip so I think we can maybe push it back to early August? Hopefully. I took off work and everything, which is somewhat good because I’ll have a full five days in a row off. But it’s also bad because I have an eight hour shift on Sunday :( And Saturday. Oh, well. I’m almost done with this job entirely. Guess I can deal with two more of those dreaded fucking eight hour shifts. And at least they’re at opposite ends of the week. Stuff is changing around here. Hopefully for the better.

TMM: blegh

Acne: not good

New Music: Vesuvius by Sufjan Stevens

Last Song Listened to on Spotify: I Wanna Prove to You by the Lemon Twigs

Current Events: new trailer for a CATS film (no thanks) and Peppa Pig music trending??

Last Google Search: “anagrammer”

Last Text Sent: “Hold on I’m busy” : Braydin

Last YouTube Video Watched: (currently watching) This House Has People in It: EXPLAINED

Instagram Followers: 179!

POTD: Braydin probably

Highlights: laughing about old memories and talking about music with Braydin, laughing at funny videos, watching interesting videos, wearing my new clothes, kind of working on music well for once?

Lowlights: binging and it being TOTALLY not worth it, feeling gross and overweight, not actually finishing recording a track, waking up super late, the entire day being really boring, the internet cutting out

Overall Score: 6/10, eh

To Work On: following the plan as created!

Yesterday’s Goal Accomplished?: nah

[ccwandco]

Thursday, July 18th, 2019 - 5:41 AM

As you can probably see, it is very early in the morning. Which means my sleep schedule is still fucked! Yay ME! Guess it doesn’t really matter that much since I don’t have work but it’s still irritating. I tried to go to sleep on time last night but it seemed impossible, even with the melatonin. And being freaked out by all the creepy videos I’ve been watching certainly did NOT help. I turned on the H3 podcast to have some background noise and kind of slept until it was over. After that, I absolutely COULD NOT fall back asleep so I just stayed up and went downstairs around 9:45. I honestly did not even feel tired. That is, until I went back upstairs and slept until around 5. Yep. It’s all out of whack right now. But I can’t be bothered to care. I gained weight. I’m like 158 now, which isn’t good. I was going to order in while mom and dad went to the concert tomorrow (today), but now I’m having second thoughts. I think I ought to try and get my eating habits back on track. They aren’t at the worst they’ve ever been right now, but they’re not great. Music also didn’t go well today. I’m going to have to cut some songs from the listing because a lot of them are just not working. I guess that’s a good thing because it means less work. Oh well. I tried working out tonight again and I did alright, I think. Wasn’t that motivated but it’s better than nothing. Maybe tomorrow I’ll go for a run to get some cardio in.

TMM: tired and frustrated

Acne: dry around the lip corners and lots of under the skin PAINFUL bumps :(

New Music: N/A

Last Song Listened to on Spotify: Break Away by Bobby Caldwell

Current Events: Trump being a fucking racist...what’s new?

Last Google Search: “pick 16 of your favorite classic rock songs”

Last Text Sent: “Ah I see” : Eva

Last YouTube Video Watched: YANK! O Musical - Betty

Instagram Followers: 178

POTD: nobody again

Highlights: loving my Twigs, feeling fat and disgusting, listening to some of my favorite songs, watching some good music related content (that JCS Polyphonic video though!)

Lowlights: sleeping so goddamn much, not being ABLE to sleep, being spooked again by absolutely nothing, not getting any work done with music, skin being stupid and gross

Overall Score: 5/10, boring and dumb

To Work On: meditation PLEASE you fucking need it right now

Yesterday’s Goal Accomplished?: no, I never follow my own advice