I hate needles
but I want tattoos
enough to cover my entire arm
with nothing but words
meaningful words
I want to be read like a book
The kind with a mediocre middle
rough beginning
and crisis-averted ending
The kind with characters
you can't help but fall in love with
That's the kind of book
I want tattooed onto my skin

if you want to learn
what someone fears losing,
watch what they photograph.
- that explains why he never took pictures of me

I stand in the road
Just a little longer
When I walk

Just a little tease for death
In our never ending game of hide and seek

It feels powerful

I can't **** this pain,
Not with a knive or pencil,
Not with foul words or soft lips,
Not with caring hands or a fist.

It is the pain of a love
Where once more Cupid missed.

I used to draw on my arm all the time
Nothing big or elaborate
Just a triangle
One triangle
Then I wouldn’t hear the end of it
Everyone complaining
Ink poisoning
Future punk
What’s next, a motorcycle?
So I stopped
I stopped drawing that little triangle on my wrist
Right above my pulse point
But with it
I
Stopped
L I v I n g.
A triangle was supposed to be the strongest shape
It was supposed to make me strong
But I wasn’t even strong enough
To let it stay

She’s the shoulder for everyone to lean on
But god forbid she’d be the one leaning