Sometimes I question if this is all real,
because how can anything hurt so much?
How could I feel so numb too?
Maybe it's easier to believe it's real,
that there's a point to our suffering.
We constantly fear being insignificant in a infinite world,
but I believe we are much more powerful than we could ever know.
Jan 5, 2020
Jan 5, 2020 at 4:11 PM UTC
I wish that I told you I loved you,
I wish I told you how beautiful you were,
and how youre smile created whole new worlds,
I wish I told you that you saved my life,
I wish I could've saved yours,
I wish love were enough because you would've lived forever,
I am forever wishing for more time with you,
so I could call you mine,
press pause on life and never leave the bubble we created.
Jan 5, 2020
Jan 5, 2020 at 3:07 PM UTC
i remember the first time i injected it,
i swore my veins turned neon,
suddenly i was seeing ultraviolet,
my body melted into the earth,
the soil became my bones,
the whole world spun and glowed,
and i knew nothing would ever feel this good again,
and now when i inject it,
all i get is relief,
that i finally found something to stop my cold sweats,
my shaking hands,
my racing mind,
me.
the world just seems prettier with neon in my veins.
the world is easier to deal with when my veins are glowing.
Dec 27, 2019
Dec 27, 2019 at 5:24 PM UTC
I feel like you’re always behind me,
following me,
whispering down my neck,
crawling into my spine,
digging through my flesh.
How am I supposed to get rid of you,
when you’ve become part of me?
Dec 18, 2019
Dec 18, 2019 at 4:17 PM UTC
And when i saw you again,
my blood ran cold,
and I haven’t felt warmth since.
Dec 18, 2019
Dec 18, 2019 at 4:11 PM UTC
Reality has become kind of fragmented,
cracking and cutting my flesh,
leaving only darkness.
I don’t know how to get back,
I don’t even know if i want to
Dec 18, 2019
Dec 18, 2019 at 4:06 PM UTC
You said my pain was so poetic,
And I was cutting myself to the bone,
Squeezing the blood on the pages so you could hear me,
Nothing about my suffering is poetic,
Screaming into my sheets and trying to claw memories out of my chest,
Burning myself and forcing me to remember things I’d rather forget,
Breaking down crying and begging to be laid to rest,
You called me a beautiful tragedy,
But I believe you can only have beauty,
Or tragedy,
And I am the latter.
Dec 4, 2019
Dec 4, 2019 at 2:55 PM UTC
I have been writing for years,
and recently I’ve been reading all my old poems,
and all I’ve realised,
is that nothing has changed.
Nothing ever will.
Nov 27, 2019
Nov 27, 2019 at 3:03 PM UTC
I don't want to be me anymore,
But I don't want to be anything.
I don't know what I'm doing anymore
Nov 25, 2019
Nov 25, 2019 at 3:56 PM UTC