taite-aWhisper

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blonde on blondehaving decided that your duty is to bring music / and a little bit of danger to the lifeless streets / of suburbia, you draw yourself up as a rebel with a cause,
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yellow journalismyou were not the saint your yellowed hands / and stained, creased eyes would make you out to be. / you told me you had kissed some other girl and that she
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agoraphobiayou chew on coffee beans to cleanse your mouth of this / one long silence / it is open like a wound
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nothing bad has ever happened at this dinercold drink perspiring, your / hands suddenly clammy, / granite, you order another
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1.1k
chinese takeoutit’s cold now. / it was warmer back in january, / the sky was made of bleach,
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clinicalmold spores sleep / in the blood of a girl / three floors and
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wristbone“it was her wrists. they were beautiful.” / - valerie page, *v for vendetta* / soft underbelly of a fish, full of flesh,
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974
social butterflybutterfly bones on yours, / and then they were perched on your eyes, / casting the most delicate of shadows
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corner storesi used to live in boxes, / not just the ones from packing my life / away and expediting it, or where i would
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901
fever, blistersits on her lip like a flower / makes you mutter to yourself / too many kisses falling into her
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898
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