Maybe sometimes, autumn is a boy with caterpillar eyebrows who’ll teach you how to **** the very same butterflies he gave you inside; maybe for some of us the best thing to hope for is the worst snowstorm in the history of the world to wash away the colors of such a fall.
You know you should’ve stayed away when he turned the marigolds silver when he smiled but you’re never smart enough to run, and there probably might be good reasons you instinctively close your eyes when you kiss someone but you were dumb enough to fight that, and this is how many things don’t make it through winter to see spring.
Jan 4, 2014
Jan 4, 2014 at 1:25 PM UTC
Thursdays are for psychoanalyzing love letters I never sent you.
**** you for being in love with someone else.
**** me for waiting on you.
Also, **** your ******* & the time my lips
got stuck in your braces & they bled
for 8 hrs & the first time
you borrowed my lighter & that time
we passed each other & none of us said
hi but we looked each other in the eye
the whole time & 2 minutes after
you were out of sight i knew, winter
has started;
winter has come, and i dared to hope it would
stay; that it would never leave me the way
you did.
I should have stayed, away but how
could I when I knew you were trouble
in human form and you knew I was a trainwreck
waiting to happen, waiting for you.
There were so many chances to tell you what I’d give to watch you sleep,
Approximately four, since the first time I watched you eat lunch alone.
I stopped counting on the 33rd day I remembered
that circumstance and I were born enemies.
Love gives you a bad name.
The moral of the story is that
I need to remember : that hoping is the worst thing
I have ever done and can ever do,
and to forget your face.
Jan 4, 2014
Jan 4, 2014 at 1:23 PM UTC
I'll always wait for the glasses to spill before I take them out.
I'll always empty my closets and let everything sleep on the bed.
I'll sit on the edge and have a staring contest with the mirror.
I'll always surrender.
The fan is buzzing.
There's a web in every corner.
Furniture is the devil's work.
I will always fall in love with walls and floors.
I hear the highways and I don't want to be here.
I'll always be homesick but only houses exist.
Homes are a myth.
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 1:53 PM UTC
We are dried up
leaves wrapped
paper thin
through filters we let
others breathe
our poison in
as we burn down
to ash and dust
and dirt
we are addictions
rarely mutual
we are statistics
in the making
we are cigarettes
in every sense
the word
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 12:43 PM UTC
this is where the fragments of the fragmented pretend to be whole.
let's say nothing and mean everything.
let's say anything like it means something.
please carry a torch for me until the day i am brave enough to burn.
we could buy our souls back from the devil if we got paid for never making any sense.
our poems are **** but fertilizer helps flowers blossom.
or so we'd like to think.
or so we'd rather not.
keep writing, while the words still have no choice.
when did we sign up for the wars within ourselves?
when did we learn to be weapons?
Aug 21, 2013
Aug 21, 2013 at 2:28 AM UTC
how do doctors live
with themselves after
putting stethoscopes
to people's chests
and not telling them
their hearts are beating
them to death?
i love you so
i tell you now
we're just history's
worst cases
of domestic violence
against ourselves
Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 5:33 AM UTC
i hope you
have a safe
night of nice
dreams after
busting your
headlights
bringing down
all the streetlights
for mocking the stars
some of us stay
in the dark for the company
of our own kind please turn
out your porchlights
dim your gadget screen
backlights and unplug
all your nightlights
don't you dare
insult the moon
Aug 13, 2013
Aug 13, 2013 at 4:40 AM UTC
i wish for you
as much as i do
for immediate
dementia
and every time
i forget
how to function
because of you
is much-welcomed
amnesia
i am a medical
condition
you're the medical
procedure
when the time
comes for them
to pronounce
the time
of my death
i just wish
it would be
at the very least
a minute ahead
of yours
tell me what
on this earth
or any given
universe isn't
a disease
and its very
same cure
in every sense
of those words
Aug 12, 2013
Aug 12, 2013 at 2:20 PM UTC
Even your guardian angel gave up on you and the tiny devil on your shoulder no longer felt needed.
You made your own demons. You dream up terrible angels.
You were a hell all on your own.
Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 9:37 AM UTC
try to love
yourself
and you will
see that it's
the worst
thing you
can wish upon
your enemies.
Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 7:02 AM UTC