she has little innocent demons inside her eyes
they recklessly play with matches.
setting nerves alight
chocking her brain in billow smoke
and yet I’ve never seen sparks so pretty.

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