A fairy tale

Once upon a time there was a girl who probably wasn't a princess. Something happened to the princess and she really didn't want to talk about it. It happened three weeks ago. The princess went to Gabes bedchamber and drank a lot, then she and her friends headed over to Connors castle. When she was there she drank even more. She was really wasted. This guy started talking to her, his name was Jake, and the princess thought he was really nice. She got his number and she gave him hers. They talked for the whole night and ended up sitting on the sofa making out. Eventually she left and walked to Sig Nu to talk to Matthew since he'd been begging her to come over the whole night. The princess got to sig nu but was warned by everyone not to talk to Matthew, he was too wasted. She went in and talked to him anyways. They didn't talk about much but as she was leaving he called out to her "don't sleep with anyone!" The princess went into the hallway and called Jake and asked him to pick her up, the princess saw Sarah there and asked her if she knew anything about him. She really didn't other than that he was a sig ep. Jake came and picked her up and he asked the princess where she wanted to go. The princess didn't care so he said he was going to drive her back to his castle. They got to his castle and the princess was still really drunk but they went inside and went into his bedchambers. He turned on a TV show on his computer and they laid down in bed. They started making out and he was touching her all over. The princess sat up then, she said "I don't want to have sex tonight", she said "maybe down the road after we talked a while maybe later but not tonight". The princess put her finger up and waved it around as if to say no not tonight. She laid back down and they made out some more. The next thing the princess knew he was inside of her and they were having sex. Honestly she wanted him to stop, she really REALLY didn't want to have sex that night. About 30 seconds in the princess asked him "do you have a condom?" He said yes he did so she asked him to put it on. He didn't. He just kept going. Here's where the story gets shady and confusing. The princess enjoyed it. She made all the right noises and said yes yes! But honestly she would've preferred to be in her castle, would have preferred to be in her own bedchambers. Alone. But Jake didn't stop. And after he fucked the princess once (he came on her tits and face, then helped her wipe it off), he did it again. He shoved his fingers in the princess until she moaned, then fucked her hard. All the princess wanted was to be back in her own castle, in her own bedchambers. Her heart hurt. It hurt really bad. Eventually Jake came on her face again. He messed up her hair. Then he cuddled the princess and rubbed her back. He said "you can learn a lot about a guy from the way he treats his girl after sex." But what about before? Thought the princess. Jake fell asleep but the princess lay awake for a while. Finally, she too fell asleep. When Jake woke her up in the morning, they got in the shower. Midway through, Jake's hand slid it's way between her legs and next thing the princess knew she was bent over and Jake was in her. She made all the right noises again. When they were done they got out of the shower and the princess got dressed. All she could think about was going home going home going home. When would he take her home? Jake talked to the princess for a while, then he handed her a helmet and took her outside to his motorcycle. He told the princess to get on and she did. He drove her back to her castle and dropped her off in front. He told the princess "I had a great time! Let's do it again!" And Jake sped off. The princess walked back into her castle, into her bedchamber, and laid down on her bed. Then she got up. Jake never contacted her again. Then the princess got the local witch to brew her a forget-potion and she totally one hundred percent forgot about the night and it never bothered her again. And she grew up and achieved everything she ever wanted and lived happily ever after in a land far far far away from whoever Jake was. 

The End. 

Than ever

I am lonelier

Than ever and no one is

Here to comfort me 

Betrayal

And you fucking betrayed me

With words that cut me deep

Like a knife slid into my skin

Then twisted until I scream

You somehow knew all my

Secrets and you paraded around 

My deepest fears as something 

You could scorn and despise 

You mocked me to my friends

And built yourself so far up

That I was a lowly ant

And you stomped all over me

That

Is

Not

Ok

Skin on Skin

Our bodies could be skin on skin

And I would still pull you closer. 

Lonely but Not Alone

It's funny how I 

Can be so damn lonely even

Though you are right here

Gartenherz

I  don't know when you did it, probably one night when I was fast asleep, but you brushed your fingers across my breast, caressing every inch of me, until you found the seam running across me. You traced the seam with your fingers until you found the ends of the ribbon holding me together. Gently, you unlaced my chest and opened me up, ribs splaying outwards like claws grabbing at the air. Before you my red heart pumped life through me and all my existence lay there for you to discover and understand. Of course your curiosity got the better of you so you unlatched my heart and opened it up and saw all my fears, and dreams, and secrets neatly laid out in labeled drawers and you opened each drawer and read each fear and dream and secret then you meticulously folded each one and placed them back in the drawers and shut each drawer but not before adding a few fears, dreams, and secrets of your own. Then you unlaced your own chest, reached into your own heart, and pulled out a seed. You dug a little hole in the dirt floor of my heart and dropped the seed in. You patted the dirt back over the seed, closed my heart and latched it shut, then replaced my ribs, one by one. You folded my skin back over my body and, with jet black ribbon, laced me back together. Every day you must water that seedling because I've felt it growing. It pushes at my chest and it feels tight and cramped with how big that little seedling has gotten. Right now, laying in your arms, your fingers tracing small designs on my back, I think it just burst into full bloom because everything feels so beautiful and right. And all I can do is thank you for planting a garden in my heart even after you saw everything I was made of.

The Guilty

Guilt over you overwhelms me in a crashing landslide of heated cheeks and sinking feelings. And every time we sit in the green tinged dark and my skin is next to yours, I think about how horrifying I am and how incredible you are and the fact you know next to nothing about me but the little thing I told you and you still chose to hold me that night. How I long to be hollow on the inside and light as feather and you said, “Why didn’t you…” and I couldn’t say why because you will never understand the ethereal feeling of empty. But you still held me that night. You still ran your hands across my skin and gently kissed me and brushed my hair from my face and pet me.  And for all that I feel guilty. There’s so much more you could know about me and I think you’d regret every night you’ve spent in my bed if you knew the decline in my soul to the withered husk it is. Perhaps now I’m filled with more life than I ever was before, but there’s still the gaping hole of loneliness and sadness that overcomes me sometimes and turns me into the dead thing I was before. And for someone like you who’s only had one person, I feel so guilty that person is me. You deserve someone more together, more whole, than the girl you found the first night of college at the crazy meet and greet in the dark. The one who made a secret handshake with you and laughed when ours was the lamest of them all. The girl who saw you later on at a party and talked for a while and you made her laugh at all the dumb things freshman do. The one who took you with her the next night and we stumbled back to my room after, a little more than tipsy, to sit on my bed and talk for hours with me begging you in my head to kiss me! Kiss me you fool! Until we collapsed under the covers and fell asleep, only to wake up a few hours later to our lips touching and bodies tangled with each other. And soon your hands wandered over me and explored who I was until your alarm went off at 7 am and you turned it off and went right back to making me feel like I was living in some other dimension. And the next night was the same, with us stumbling back to my room and this time I pulled off my shirt and slipped out of my panties and let you look at me, completely bared and you beckoned me to your arms and that is the point where I almost, almost wish I could take this all back because I’m not a nice person and I might end up breaking you and I think I might be attached to you because you’re definitely attached to me. And I think I killed your innocence, in fact I know I did, so that’s why I feel horribly guilty every time your fingers brush my skin. But I certainly won't stop you from doing it because I think we both know that I am selfish. So you continue to keep me up each night and I'll continue feeling guilty.

Wendy

They sit across from each other in bed. She's holding the bottle in one hand, the flimsy plastic cup in the other. She looks at him sternly but then giggles so it ruins her air of importance. "You first. Take your medicine." She says and hands him the cup, commanding him to hold it out. She unscrews the lid of the medicine bottle and pours a generous dose into the cup. He inspects it closely as she screws the cap back on but when she glares at him he tilts his head back and pours the thick purple syrup down his throat. Immediately his face screws up and he makes a gagging sound, she begins giggling softly then louder until she's laughing, face into his chest, arms wrapped around him until he pushes her away and hands her the flimsy cup and still giggling she pours herself a dose and drains half of it. The syrup curdles on her toungue and the sickly sweet taste of berry and health make her cringe inside but she shows nothing outwardly because she has to be the role model. She can feel his eyes on her as she takes two more gulps and finishes the contents of the cup, making sure she got every last drop. She screws the cap back on the bottle and places it on the bedside table. She leans over and places the plastic cup next to it then sits back onto the bed and looks at him. He holds her stare for thirty seconds before he reaches for her and they fall, laughing, into the covers and blankets and each other. 

Newborn

The nights we spend together. Naked bodies gleaming in the Christmas lights strung up on the walls. Our lips pressed together and my breasts pushed to your chest. You run your hands up and down my back and legs and stop every now and then to press your fingers into my skin and make me moan. Your eyelashes flutter as we explore each other as if each night was our first together. We're silent but for the sounds of our breathing and the occasional praise of god or partner, both of us terrified of disturbing those in the rooms surrounding us. At night, just the two of us we open up to each other, blossoming like Casablanca lilies that open only when the sun is gone. Daytime is friendly and sweet, satisfied silences and small talk punctuate our hours together. But at night, when we've done gasping and shaking and my fingernails have scored red tracks on your back, we talk deeply of the things we desire the most and our fears for the future. And I feel closer to you than I've felt towards anyone in a long time. When you hold me like you do all my pain and loneliness rushes back in but it cannot hurt me because you've built a dam around my heart and though the waves of hurt crash against it, they can't get in. So maybe that's why even though I don't love you, I can't stand to be away from you. Every second not spent in your arms is a total fucking waste and I loathe every minute I'm not near you. I can't help but press my lips to yours or lay gentle kisses on your nose and jaw. Wrapping my arms around you is as involuntary as breathing and I require both to survive each day. You're a piece of me now and I feel horribly guilty for drawing you into my web of sickness and deceit but I need you now and I don't think I could manage being alone anymore. I think I'd wither to nothing and my last breath would still be your name, asking why you never came to me. 

Goodbye to Childhood

The last night I have 

Of childhood is spent in

A musty hotel. 

The Summer Sun

The summer sun plays

It's fingers along my back 

Just like you used to

Leaving you

I told myself that

Leaving you would be easy.

But it sure wasn't. 

Constantly

Constantly my heart

Is ripped to shreds leaving me

To try to mend it. 

Wasn't Supposed To

I wasn't supposed 

To love you like this again. 

I said I wouldn't. 

Missing you

Fuck, I already

Miss you. It feels like I am

Being torn in two. 

Rave Again

My ears still ring with 

The pounding music and the 

Ever writhing bodies

One Thing in Mind

You kiss me with one

Thing in mind, and that's when

You'll get to leave again

Drive In Movie

A drive in movie

Provides the perfect chance for

Subtle backseat games

Sweet Sounds

Through the sweet sound of

The drive in movie, I heard

Your blood sing my name

Gewonnen

Wenn ich dünn bin, dann hab ich gewonnen. 

A haiku on haikus

Haikus are a way 

For me to express myself 

In just three short lines 

Carefree

I wish I could seem

As carefree as you seem to

Be every damn day 

Perhaps the Blood

Perhaps the blood in

My veins wishes to escape

As much as I do. 

You Only Love Me

To me, you're the frenzied gasp I make as your fingers first trace my skin. The moan as you bite my neck and thighs. The sigh as you push your lips to mine. You're also four hours of ecstasy then four days of depression. A few moments of feeling wanted then an enternity of loneliness. A call asking me to come over then a conversation telling me to go. You only like me for one thing and that's the way I look when I'm lying in your bed naked and panting. You only like me when your fingers are in my mouth and my back is arched and I cry out with every thrust. You only want me when one hand is wrapped in my hair and the other grips the blanket and you're pushing my head up and down to a rhythm you decided. You only care about me when you're clutching my breast and your teeth are pinching my nipple and your hand is buried between my legs. My moans fuel you to greater heights. And you reach them. That's the first, the best, the longest, you say and I parrot your words with records of my own, the first, the best, the longest. And you smile and we go back for round two of an infinite boxing match of sorts that I only started because I was lonely. But no matter how many times we box, how many times I present my body, fresh and willing, to you, I'll never be more than someone you relegate to the corner of your brain labeled "of least importance". And no matter how right your arms feel around me, no matter what your kisses ignite inside me, no matter how many times your touches make me scream, you'll always ask me to go afterwards. Because this relationship isn't about the jokes I tell. Because you couldn't care less about how my day was. Because you don't want to go out for a dinner date. Because you only love me when we're making love. 

The Sane Girls

“I bet you got bored
of the sane girls

who slept at 10pm
and had three meals a day

and I bet you got bored
of the sane girls

who had a happy childhood
and a genuine smile

and maybe that would explain
how someone like you
got with someone like me

because you were looking
for a sad girl with a grey soul
and a broken heart
weren’t you?

you were looking
for a girl who could
forget to sleep or eat
for three days straight

simply because she was too
scared of her own damn mind
and all the demons living in it

but people aren’t toys
you can play with and put down
when you are bored

and I’ll tell you a thing
you probably do not know
about sad girls with grey souls
and broken hearts:

once you tell them
you love them
at 3am
while they are smoking
cigarette after cigarette

your words get stuck
in their lungs
like the smoke they inhale
and they invade their blood

like a poison

and just like that,
you become part of them,
part of their infinite sadness
forever or 

until the last drop of
the very same blood
you invaded with your
sweet sweet words

flows out of their
lifeless body

I bet I scared you off
with these words

and I bet
you already miss
the sane girls.”

Even Though I'm Nothing to You

You have a way of

Wrapping your arms around me 

Making me feel whole

In Your Arms

Goddamnit, no one

Holds me in their arms like you

For once I feel safe

Thighs, Throat, and Heart

Bite marks on my thighs

Moans lingering in my throat 

Still an empty heart

Marks

The marks on my neck 

Tell the story of two boys

Who pressed their lips there 

The Back Seat

I'm in the back seat

Some other boy on my skin 

Not thinking of you. 

Kiss Me Hard

You kiss me hard but

You said you didn't love me

I can taste your lies 

I Wasn't Thinking

I wasn't thinking

This sort of thing would happen

If we were alone

Pull Me in Close

You pull me in close

Forgotten feelings cry out 

Your skin touching mine

We Crack our Bones

We crack our bones to

Grind the marrow to dust which

We throw to the wind 

Ich rauche

Ich rauche Kippe um Kippe, mit der Hoffnung, diese Gefühle würden sterben.... und ich am besten dazu. 

I smoke cigarette after cigarette with the hope that this feeling will die... And I maybe I will too. 

Maybe it's Because

Maybe it's because I miss you so much that I put on my craziest outfit and went to one of those wild dance parties where people lose their bodies and find their souls. Maybe that's why I found myself pressed up against a boy, my eyes shut, my body floating through space, my head ensnared in the music. Maybe that's why when he took me by the hand and led me from the room to the empty parking lot I simply nodded my head and climbed into the temporary privacy of my car with him to fog up the windows as he kissed marks into my neck. Maybe that's why I gave this boy my number and prayed for a text or a call or a smoke signal or something that told me I wasn't worthless and used up to him. Maybe that's why when he did text me and suggest I come over to finish what we started I laughed happily and agreed to do whatever he liked. Maybe that's why when he stopped texting and never answered I started checking my phone constantly because perhaps, perhaps I'd missed the ping of a new string of words to comfort me. Maybe that's why when he finally began speaking again and suggested I come to his friends house that night I agreed and dolled up and drove an hour for him to let me into the house and say his friends on vacation, it's just us two. Maybe that's why when he once again took my hand and led me to a bedroom I followed, dropping my shirt on the way and closing the door behind me so the dog couldn't hear me moan. Maybe that's why when we finished and walked back out and he sat down on the sofa and I sat next to him and he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close, I felt like the world sat in alignment for a moment with all my stars and I swear I could've stayed like that forever. Maybe that's why when the door opened and his friends walked in smoking something hand rolled and hazy and he suggested we go outside to smoke a cigarette under the stars I followed. Maybe that's why as we leaned against my car and his glorious arms were around me and he was breathing deep breaths into my messy hair and he said maybe I could go home then because he promised his friends he'd hang tonight but we'll definitely spend time together again, I laughed and said of course and gathered my things. Maybe that's why when he kissed me goodbye and as an afterthought asked for two of my cigarettes and a promise to meet again, I complied, once again giving him everything he wanted. Maybe that's why when the next morning he texted me asking how I was and was I sore because he sure was, I messaged him back and we talked for hours. Maybe that's why after that day he stopped speaking to me or texting me or calling me or sending smoke signals to me and I felt so goddamn alone again it's almost unbearable. Maybe all of this is because I needed someone, anyone, to love me and hold me because you said you just couldn't anymore because I cried too much and laughed not enough and always did what I was asked.  

Stupid Boys

Stupid boys who will never text you 

back

The cute ones you met on the

dancefloor

Who hold onto your hips as you 

sway 

And turn you around for a deep long 

kiss

Who nip at your neck and squeeze at your

breasts

And tell you little white lies like "you're 

beautiful"

In hopes that you'll lead them out to your

car

To let them reach under your 

clothes 

In hopes that you'll reach under 

theirs

Because that's just who we are:

The whisperer

The listener

The enticer

The follower

The pleader 

The relenter

You

Me

Another Sad Film About Suicide

What is there to say about the eternal hum in my brain that fires synapses and sends electricity out on jagged paths from one neuron to another. Pushing the proverbial red button that says "Do not push!" That when pushed sets itself on a course of self destruction is not a choice I consciously made. The spiked lines on a heart moniter spelling out the words "STOP! STOP! STOP!!!" are not vocalizing a cry for attention or unwillingness to try. Instead they speak of a war that cannot, must not, be lost yet I am not sure I want to fight. A war which, if won, leads to a future and, if lost, the gentle lullaby of a swinging rope. Everything pushes me close to tears now, things I don't fully understand. The birds in the trees constrict my throat as the image of a black mailbox at the end of our drive burns my eyes. These things aren't tragic or poignant but my overloaded brain cannot bear the thought of tranquility or beauty when so much in me is ruptured and rotting so instead tears roll down my face. I sit in bed at night and watch romantic movies of girls like me except these wilted flowers are too entranced by the burn of the bullet or the ice of antifreeze as it flows down your throat and all the movies invariably end with slashed wrists and a tubful of blood. The utter romanticism of these images, girls who never figured out how exactly to love themselves and therefore ended themselves, leave me thinking of all the times I've counted out delicate white capsules and washed them down with a shot of vodka each and felt the burn of them in my throat just like the tears that will no doubt burn my eyes when all the pills are gone and there's no more alcohol. So I leave myself to lock my doors and stumble to bed and stare at the ceiling and fire runs down my cheeks as I think of what I've done. How many times have I played this out? I can't remember. At least five? Seven? Ten? It leaves me to wonder why I haven't died. You'd think sleeping pills and vodka ten times would leave some lasting damage but the only organ failure I have is my damn brain. One time I started vomiting. I sat by my toilet and threw up blood and soggy powder. I cried so hard my nose bled and I had vomit in my hair and on my face. I slept in the tub that night. Intermittently crying and throwing up until dawn finally broke and I was still alive. Another time, perhaps a month ago, I went blind. A bad drug cocktail I suppose. Don't mix hydrocodon with vodka and trazadone. I could barely walk and my vision kept fading in and out until it went and didn't come back. I passed out on the stairs up to my room then again on my bedroom floor. I woke up disappointed the next morning with sunlight streaming through the window and my mother yelling. But no longer blind. I was sick for days after that. These stories aren't told for pity or attention as some have accused. Instead they are a way to say that my body, no matter what I do, stays healthy but my brain is diseased and languishing in its own filth. But I speculate it will always be that way so what use is a ripe vessel if the contents are spoiled. 

Falling Out.

This feels like falling out of love. The steady decline of an empire of memories. The withering of two hearts that were once conjoined. The death of our desire. 

No more. No more. No more. 

We will be no more. 

No More

Though inches away

I have no desire to take,

Your hand in mine. 

Your eyes hold none

Of the joy they used to

When you looked at me. 

Your lips pressed to mine

Feels like duty and habit

Rather than fire and ice. 

Love Lost

Things fall to pieces between us. The love we've kindled for 18 months and 2 days has shattered and left behind voids and chasms where there once was light and happiness. My growing annoyance with you and your increasing indifference to me slid a crowbar between our entwined hearts and wrenched them free of each other, or perhaps they weren't as tightly bound as we both thought they were. I think maybe we felt only our increasing dependance on each other, the intense need to feel love and be loved, to know that we are not alone in the steps we take. That there is a faithful shadow that traces our movements and approves of our every decision. One who rewards us with the carnal touch and traced fingers down the spine. Who whispers "I want you always" as they take fragile pieces of your body and mind to mend them together so we might be whole again. With whom the sound of the bed frame banging the wall and flesh slapping flesh pours out a tune of love and lust that no words can recreate. Though these moments are the only thing holding us together anymore we still create them out of habit and hope. We both know we are dying, not our bodies but our souls. The part of us that governed our desires and wishes; the part that looked into the future and saw an apartment and a white dress perhaps has shriveled and is fast succumbing to the pressures of lost feelings and the suffocating fear of being trapped. We know now that arsenic flows through our veins and cyanide poisons our kisses turning something so sweet into something so bitter. The mere pressing of lips has become a chore and we derive no pleasure from their touch, only a sense of duty and resign. Shame! Shame on us that we keep perpetuating this lie, living like the times have never been better when really we cry at night and wish we could trust one another with our secrets once more. That the demons in our head and the burdens on our shoulders might be lightened because we have shared the load. But no more. We carry our own grievances like pack mules, we saddle ourselves with our worries and every day stoop a little lower from the weight we bear. But we bear it. Because we cannot love. We cannot love each other. We cannot love each other anymore. We failed ourselves and one another. Instead of love burning fires in our chests indifference settles like a blanket. 

Anger Abounds

Imagine it's a hot summer day, the air is glimmering. Everything's just perfect, and you're laying there, facing the sun. But suddenly, a heavy humidity lays itself over this beautiful day, making it hard to breath. It's getting more and more humid, until you can barely breath. Yet somehow, you're the only one noticing it. Gasping for air you watch them laughing untroubled. Joking light-heartedly, while you're struggling to stay alive. Depression, it's like drowning - except that you can see everyone around you breathing.

Losing weight

I am GOING to lose weight. I'm going to be a fragile porcelain doll with stick legs and twig arms. A single breath could break me. I WILL be under 100 lbs. 

Mountains

Today, while hiking in the Appalachian Mountains near Cashiers, North Carolina, I came across a little boardwalk in the middle of the trail. I walked along it, grateful since the ground was wet and spongy. As I followed it I saw something metal glinting in the distance. As I came closer I saw that there was a statue just sitting there in the middle of the brush, warm in the sunlight. I sat there for a few moments, wondering at why someone would place a lovely piece of art in a place so few could enjoy it. What artist would consent to their hard work, long hours, and unique creation being dropped in the middle of a soggy mountainside? I couldn’t imagine that. But then I realized something. Perhaps the artist wanted exactly that. A piece of art only a certain few could afford to enjoy. Like caviar and country clubs, one must be elite and cultured to enjoy the artists work. They must posses the hardiness and audacity to hike the mountain. The curiosity to follow the small boardwalk path. The keen eyesight to notice the statue. And, above all, the cunning to determine the artists intent on placing their work their. I don’t presume to call myself better than any of the countless others who didn’t fulfill these specific credentials; perhaps I am just lucky. Instead I just wish to share the simple story of a girl who went hiking and saw something thought-provoking. So maybe next time you too will take the quiet boardwalk path on the side of a mountain.

The Starry Sky Cried

The starry sky cried

To see her lover the earth

Desecrated so

Oh Jesus Christ

A Bird in the Sea

A bird in the sea

Couldn't feel as out of place

As someone like me

Skinny Love

Come on skinny love just

Last the

Year

Pour a little salt we 

Were never

Here

My my my, my my my, my

My my

My

Staring at the sink of blood 

And crushed

Veneer

Tell my love to 

Wreck it

All

Cut all of the ropes and 

Let me 

Fall

My my my, my my my, my

My my

My

Right in the moment

This order's 

Tall

And I told you to be patient and I told you to be fine and I told you to be balanced a nd I told you to be kind and in the mornin I'll be with you but it'll be a different kind cause I'll be holding all the tickets and yo

u'll be owing all the fines

With Every Passing Day

With every day I somehow get sadder

Get sadder

Get sadder. 

Drawn to death like moth to flame

To flame

To flame

Whether by pills, by rope, by gun

By gun

By gun

I long to leave this world behind me

Behind me

Behind me

Perhaps neverland better suits me

Suits me

Suits me

I'll just have to wait to see

To see

To see

One for One

A cut for

Every

Cheating thrust

You made in

That stupid

Cunt 

Here For You

I Loved You

I loved you and 

I loved you and 

I loved you but

I got nothing in return

Can I Be Your Cigarette

can i be your cigarette

so you can pull me out 
of a black dark box

so you can light me up 
when i’m cold

so you can keep me on 
your lips

so you can inhale me 
even though you know
how toxic i am

but you don’t really care 
cause you love that feeling 
in your lungs

The Point

What's the 

Fucking

Point of 

Any of this

Anymore? 

The Chance You Took

I gave you a chance for freedom

To fly into the open sky

But told you to be careful

To come back to my bed to lie

But I found you'd been deceitful

You took the most harmful way

You killed me with your actions 

And all the things you won't say

You flew away straight to her 

The one who prettily sings 

Never seeing her deadly poison 

Nor noticing my broken wings 

Now I sit all alone in bed

Blood running down my wrists

The streams colliding with tears

That fell from the girl devil-kissed 

Funny How

It's a shame I'm so weak

Love like that

Give me a love like Tate and Violet. More dead than alive but in love all the still. A love of screaming and saving and holding and crying. One where my wrists cry and you hold me close and whisper to me how much you love me. Where I weep with how much I love you and all the things I want to say but never will. 

Red

Red lips, red hair

Dark eyes, dark glare

Green youth, green dress

Beautiful face, beautiful mess

Tired, sad

Tired but I can't sleep

Sad but I can't weep

People that I'll never keep

Too afraid to take the leap

What now

What now should I do

When the demons creep back in

And turn me insane 

I try

I try all my best 

But your words won't save me now 

I'm lost in my mind