a venerated vehicle

July 27, 2014 Posted by gretchen

a venerated vehicle

between. this. (k)new
combination of reality.
someone hurt him.
this white trash baby
mamma drama. loose
pussy suburb trick.
i saw it in his face. not her.
to real women; she’s nothing.
sometimes i practice not
telling truth to what’s wounded.
my throat was slit before -
and i came back in this way
i never talk about with anyone.
but i saw him, and how he
moves. his hands create. quickly.
and he says little and i am
running again. after broken limb
past. he escaped from a lie
close to how i was once executed.
my words were abused previously.
my hips widen and thighs flex
in a tight lipped consciousness.
i bow into understanding.
back stretch agreement.
he never sees the ropes of my
locks thrashing side to side and
in circles. a keyless entry.
every time i burn down what
i could never save. i can’t help
wondering if one beat will
walk the same pace. true.

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directions of destruction

July 27, 2014 Posted by gretchen

directions of destruction

i cut my wrist. vertical. crashing. slay.
horizontal. a lay down way to say
these are the ways that i hurt myself. pay.
choking descriptions of “it’s a bad day”.
i am telling you what i never speak.
step into an orb of utter. alone.
one impossible notion. being weak.
i’m trying to explain. i know no one.
i’d rather be written off. forgotten.
i was recalled once. result? abandon.
realize, i stopped imagining when.
i only ride in the wrong direction,
consciously willing a final demise.
tirelessly shielding my self-infliction.
i forgot my name first sight of your eyes .
forced to relearn. waxing moon. rising sun.
there is no compass for how i ruin,
i stopped looking for remotely. akin.

“… out of control on videotape”

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this. bitch.

July 26, 2014 Posted by gretchen

this. bitch.

The way she follows you is laughable.

She is a painter who is seven years younger, five pounds lighter and many lifetimes of practicality unborn – than me.

I have this odd way of stating things. Like how on the day we met I told you to move in with me. She doesn’t know me. But she follows me. She reads my blog. She masturbated to one of my photos. (more…)

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up picking

July 25, 2014 Posted by gretchen

In the midst of stumbling on and off my face lately, I fell through the door yesterday to my very quiet IMG_2190 apartment and was immediately unhappy.

I kind of reckon Artists have a unique pain thresh hold. And since I hold on to this “every low is followed by a fabulous happiness” I really make a legit effort to limp through.

However, some days I suck at it. And yes, it is still a traumatic reaction to an ex-partner’s uselessness. I’ve finally come to see over the past three or four months, I don’t miss him. I just can’t live alone. (more…)

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sia times two

July 24, 2014 Posted by gretchen

Lately when I obsess over a new music act, I end up finding a slew of tracks to fill my days with. Like during my recent Moto Boy and Allen Stone tangents, for example. Sia has proven no different. After my Chandelier rant yesterday, I went to work and listened to the whole album – which is how I came across Elastic Heart.

This is the song you want to scream in your ex’s face after you’re let down, again. I’d definitely like to scream it in my first husband’s face. He really deserves that. (more…)

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    FollowMeToNYC expresses daily thoughts of Gretchen Cello that tend to change with the tides. Naturally these concepts do not reflect those of her employer... or anyone else you may see her walking down the sidewalk with one day.
 
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