my breath smells like whiskey,
my clothes smell like smoke,
you told me i smell like i could use a ride home.
driving, driving.
you passed my road.
no, babe, it's up here, I know where to go.
don't call me that, don't, don't.
where are you going?
then the car slowed.
my parents will call soon,
where is my phone?
you dropped it on the floor, babe, right by your toes.
i can't find it, where is it?
they'll think i'm alone.
you've got me with you, babe, don't fuss,
I'll get you home.
what are you doing?
babe, I’m just stopping for a smoke.
you light your 100s
but i just want to go home.
babe, it's hot, why don't you take off your clothes?
please, please. don't,
don't.
would you put out your cigarette?
i'm going to smell like smoke.
you were smoking all night, babe, I don't like your tone.
why are you unbuckling? can't you just go?
shut up, babe, will you? don't you want to get home?
my pleas, so muted and alone,
screamed at you to stop while i inhaled your cologne.
your body was warm, intentions hard as stone,
you unzipped my shorts,
your hands were ice cold
and sent paralyzing shivers down to my bones.
i wanted you to stop but how could you have known?
you never gave me a chance to tell you
that i just wanted to go home.
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 5:55 AM UTC
*what's
more
dangerous...*
talking
to
strangers
or always
to
myself
?
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 5:46 AM UTC
tucked into your white sea of bed sheets staring at the movement behind your eyelids trying to avoid your products of reproduction and the sinister spinning earth
you had the nerve to write "see you in your dreams by the sea" in a book in black ink but you never kept that promise
sometimes i trace my finger tips over your handwriting
silly, right?
i remember you took my face between the palms of your hands, the cracks in them like little valley's
your blue eyes a blood shot glittering hypnotizing ocean gem of comfort and peace and acceptance
and the words "promise you'll never die" slipped off of my tongue like hot tea
and i was too young to know that we all die someday, that death comes out of the blue like a ***** whale breaking apart the ocean waves like that moses guy in the bible just to breathe and kiss the salty air
and you grabbed my face and kissed my forehead and you told me you promise
and i hope that was on your mind when you touched those sheets
and I hope my innocent face flashed through your mind when you tied it around the pipe
the flashbacks of you holding me for the first time
and I hope the last thought on your mind was me when it broke your neck and the angels came and took you
and i hope you know that the emptiness in me will never be filled
and I hope you know that even when you thought nobody cared, nobody listened, nobody loved you
i cared and I loved you with every atom in my being and I'm sorry I wasn't old enough to fully understand
and i'm still waiting to see you in my dreams by the sea
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 5:17 AM UTC
she's an active volcano
the lava she spewed destroyed many valleys
it'll take time to clear her destruction
for her to turn back into a mountain
she doesn't want to open up again believe her
but she's most likely going to
and after she realizes what she's done
she wants to sink under water and help shift continents
she makes your bones rattle
and the blood in your veins turn hot like your grandma's gumbo
and you don't know a thing about her or when she's gonna projectile ***** her mass destruction
she's unpredictable
and that's what scares you
that's why you're drawn to her
you just know in the end she's just gonna hurt you even though it's not her intent
but she's just so breathtakingly beautiful
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 2:04 AM UTC
monarch butterflies and drunken teenagers
dancing around the burning, heavenly, crackling flame of the bonfire releasing their inner wild animal
teenage lovers so deep in affection, lust or whatever, skin to skin, kissing and falling off the mossy logs giggling for they had too much to drink
my oblivious self sat alone, head in the clouds, listening to a guy in glasses talk about astrology and point up towards the constellations
Who knew the laughs would soon be interrupted by violent screaming escaping through people's throats
Who knew the aroma of ***** **** and alcohol would be replaced with the aroma of burnt rubber
i pull up my sunflower crop top up, heartbeat seizing in my throat
Who knew that sunflower crop top would be drenched in blood
as his shallow breathing overpowered any other noise to me
that the tears dripping down his cheeks and blood from his mouth as the only thing he were able to do was blink up at me would be the result of reoccurring nightmares, years of counseling and 5 different types of medication
Who knew I'd ever have to hold my brothers head up in my lap
my fingers through his hair
I saw the fear in his eyes, so I told him to close them.
telling him that I'm here, telling him that I love him and not to be scared
repeating "I'm here." over and over and over
as he lays there helpless and dying because someone thought they were sober enough to drive
Who knew?
Only God.
Only God, right?
In my eyes, that makes him the Devil.
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 5:16 PM UTC
Cigarette to her cherry chap stick coated lips again.
She keeps on smoking them saying she doesn't care if she dies, yet she's discreetly afraid of death.
She knows she should probably get off her *** and get a job, but she'd rather listen to the same song over and over and day dream about ******
scenarios.
She'd rather stay up late at night writing and wake up at 3, majority of her day already wasted. Downing coffee and telling herself that she'd wake up
early one day to greet the sun and admire it's beauty but reality devoured her, and she's under her sheets sleeping with her breast pressed against
her cream colored silk sheets.
She fell asleep watching asmr videos, too much of a baby to try astral projection and her window is wide open, bugs with wings flying in her room but yet she doesn't care, she likes the feeling of the cold wind on her legs.
Oh, how she wishes she were in a field somewhere, holding hands with another male or a female that loves her back as much as she loves them. She wishes that whoever loves her would lift up her skirt and lick their fingers after they venture down her legs and inside the blooming flower so many individuals have been trying to deflower.
Rolling naked in the grass, smiling, laughing.
She wants to look deep into someones eyes, not uttering a word, just in silence smiling. She wants to tuck their hair behind their ear, she wants to feel the heat of another person up against her, or the simple pads of anothers fingers cupping her breast. She longs for someone to touch her, yet she's
afraid of being touched. She's afraid of men, she's afraid of many things.
Her picky self thinks she see's the good in people yet they expose their true
colors she were too blind to see. She's so naive. Letting her thoughts unravel her like a Christmas ribbon, placing acid tabs under her tongue, smoking more **** and drinking too much.
Anything to numb the fact that the ones she desire don't desire her, and the ones that want her she acknowledges, but simply picks up with the pile of clothes on her floor and shoves them in her drawers she keeps telling herself that she'd sort out.
An unorganized, mess.
Her room, her life. Everything.
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 2:08 AM UTC
Night.
It makes me sad that we choose to sleep at the prettiest time of the day.
Put down your phone. Pause what you're doing and go outside. Go outside and lay down and stare at the stars. Forget about everything for a while. The night sky is so becoming, isn't it? It makes me seem so small, like the speck of matter I am and feel. It's the time when my thoughts are efflorescence; when I grasp a pencil and begin to write down whatever visits my mind.
Though those thoughts are quite evanescent, and that seems to make my writing 10 times better than when the sun is present. (I write better under the influence or when I'm depressed as well and I think that's ironic.) Maybe it's the lack of of halcyon from the sun, but when it comes to night, my emotions are lilting. Knowing that there is so much to this spinning colossal cylinder we live in that I have not yet explored and most likely never will makes me so unbelievably sad. Knowing that nobody seems
to acknowledge it anymore, that we are neglecting earth because technology and narcissist have taken their toll.
We are told we have freedom yet we spend more than 17 years in school full of homo-sapiens differing in traits, personalities, class and abilities. Traits that don't clash with yours, making it easier for them to judge you based on your differences from them, putting pressure and preventing some people to be who they're not. It is human nature to judge what we don't understand. We are forced to get a job to pay for cars, houses, bills , insurance and cigarettes (well, for some)
Go to college, fall in love, get married, have kids, watch them grow up and barley ever call you and then, you die. Congratulations, your skeleton is turned to ashes in a urn in your daughters closet tucked behind old boxes and you exist only in peoples memories and photographs and stories. It's something we neglect to think about, the truth.
At a young age, we are asked what we'd like to be when we grow up. Silly us, we responded with an astronaut, firefighter, doctor etc. Nobody ever told us that we most likely won't achieve those goals.
Nobody ever told us that through all the pain, you must maintain that grade because It's not about the lessons, it's just about your GPA and how good your memory is.If I could go back in time to my 6 year old self while being asked that as I play with my barbies, I would say I don't want to grow up. Life isn't dulcet. The word life itself isn't very mellifluous to
me. It only gets worse as you age, and thats the bitter truth. All the people I love will pass away, more responsibilities and stress will be piled on me weighing me down, my lungs and heart might get weaker due to my nicotine and cannabis intake which is my panacea. Then again, you
can live your life as if you were to die any second, which you could.
For **** sake, I don't want to live a life of a normal human being. I don't want to follow the orders of life, I'm naturally rebellious, I hate living like this god **** it. But I have to. Pieces of paper run our whole entire world, community and ecosystem that we have completely destroyed. It doesn't matter how you are in person, all that matters is what is printed in files and
papers. Your future is based on how your grades are in school, not by our intelligence, but how different teachers graded you. Not only that, but some of our lives are lived by a book. Some of our lives are ended by a book, and destroyed by a book. The Bible, if you didn't catch my drift, and frankly I don't want to live by a book. I want my life to be my very own pastiche.
I want to travel, not only to every place on the planet, but in the stars and in space. I want to make imprints, to leave something behind as proof I was here, I was somebody, that I survived.
I want to come face to face with the man in the moon, to touch the milky way with the palm of my hands and I wouldn't even mind being ****** in by a black hole if it meant I had the opportunity to be in space. This is what the world does to you. It makes you believe that you can achieve your dreams, that you can do whatever you want. That's the demon of it all.
I am so sick and tired of just staring up at the dead stars, smoking my cancer stick and imagining scenarios in my head. The stars make me feel so alive, yet so dead. Dead knowing that I'm probably never going to go up there, maybe in astral projection, but my meditation skills are not up to par.
When I die, I want my soul to be in space. I don't care how cliche that sounds, I want to be with my loved ones exploring the places unknown to the majority of individuals on earth.
There is more to this earth than we know, life itself is one big mystery and I don't know how far the universe goes, and that to me is scary yet astounding.
It only makes sense that there is a world after this one. There just has to be. Think about it. We have no idea how earth got here. We know we're made of flesh and bone and stardust, but we have no idea how we are formed. We have theories, so many theories, but no proven facts as to why we are here. So many varieties of different life forms and different planets. There just has to be something after our organs give up on us. We're more than our organs, so much more. I don't know how to explain it. But I guess until my time to leave this earth for good comes,
I'll never know the denouement to life.
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 5:31 AM UTC
i'm jealous of the last cigarette you smoked
that it got to soothe your pain
that it got to make itself at home in your lungs
because i couldn't soothe your pain even if i tried
and i can never leave finger prints on your skin again
i can never feel you again
and i'm jealous of the bed sheets you hung yourself with
they got to feel your warmth
because they got to cease your pain
and even if i tried i couldn't do that either
and your gone
and you're never coming back to say your final goodbye
and that's when i knew the cigarette meant more to you than me.
jealousy
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 9:18 PM UTC
There is something about a Martini,
A tingle remarkably pleasant;
A yellow, a mellow Martini;
I wish I had one at present.
There is something about a Martini,
Ere the dining and dancing begin,
And to tell you the truth,
It is not the vermouth--
I think that perhaps it's the gin.
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 9:05 PM UTC
let me clear my head of this confusing teenage haze
i haven't been myself in a couple of days
I haven't cried even though i really really want to
the beers, stogue's and doobies are the only things that get me through
believe me, i don't wanna rely on it
but i can't find another distraction
to ease the pain and the chemical reaction in my brain
and i'm a piece of ****
but its fine because everyone is too
smoking and over thinking is my bad habit
i really need to quit that's the healthy thing to do
but i'm young and drunk and dumb
miss isolate from everyone dressed like a drugged ***
gonna fall and never get back up
alcohol splashing out my cup
throw up, wiped my mouth i'm going south
wobble to the couch, lay down then pass out
lipstick on the pillow sadness and the sunrise saying hello
hair a mess, life's a mess illegal substances role play my therapist
hand on my chest, staring at the light behind my eyelids
happiness hid behind a tree deep in the forest of emptiness
parent-less, penny-less and curious
dizzy, lost and depressed
the sound of fuzz on the t-v, i pull the covers over me
wish someone would sing me a lullaby, but everyone just has to die
and the question why echoes in my head so loud and clear
and nobody else seems to hear the faint voice in the background cry for help
and i think that voice is myself
and all these kids don't wanna live and nobody even knows
walking empty shell's with blue hearts dressed in clothes
everyone's sadness in slow motion for me
and i wish i couldn't see
but even if i were blind i could still feel
and i wish none of this were real
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 1:48 AM UTC