sometimes
i don’t want you to know me

i want to walk past you on the street
raise my eyebrow and look at you
while we pass under the streetlight
and swing my hips
so that you turn around
and turn back to your friends
to whisper about me

i want our shoulders to accidentally touch
and i want you to feel your skin tingle
beneath the shirt you wore
--the one that is tight on your muscles--
hoping you would see me

i want you to wait for me by door frames
to walk me to class
and live for the moments i giggle at you

i want you to find my fears
and ache to protect me from them

i want our lips to touch
and i want yours to part
and breathe in
because you couldn’t have imagined
a first kiss
like that

i want you to be unable to stop thinking about me
keep my name on your tongue all day
until you dial my number
and call to talk to me

i don’t want you to know me
because i want you to fall in love with me
all over again

Freud says tattoos
Are
The Manifestation
Of a
Trauma

Every point
A
Separate pain
We
Have
Suffered

It took
Two
And a
Half
Hours

To complete
The
Diary
Of my
Trauma

And half a million perforations

To convert
Those
Memories
Into something

New

And

Beautiful

To finally
Let go
Of the past

i crumble under your fingers.
i break with your touch.
i weaken looking into your eyes.
i scream imagining your body.
i tear out my hair
reliving that night.
i run away from you,
away from myself
into the dark.

stop, it hurts.
stop, leave me be.

you tainted my soul,
that night broke me
into a million
pieces.

where on earth
is the remorse?

oh snap.

guess who's back?

I'm one step closer to a heart attack.

these flashbacks drawn from a cutback, turned me into an insomniac,
twas only a matter of time until I had a cardiac

arrest me now, officer. I've done you all wrong.

'cause my heart lying in my breast no longer plays a loving song.

I'd love to play the rest, see who else would try and sing along,
but I best not cause more distress, I know where I belong.


this girl KC.

man, she's killing me.

thoughts grilling me, yeah they drilling me!
this thrilling feeling's chilling me to the core, like it's refilling a sea

that just won't quit. My anchor's heavy as ****.

my head's split a bit, teeth grit cause I'm full of these images of misfits, and culprits
whose crimes I didn't know they could commit-
they're all me- I'll admit I don't have a permit to

park my *** in this waste of mass class.

just mind the sass, my ego's thick as thick glass, and I don't have the strength to be harassed (rn).


hold up
>>Boi

I don't got time for this.

I need help, man, tell me what to do, I'm ******.

this story's this; I miss the abyss in which I could hiss at KC's every bish she brought home,
reminisce that shish in whish I could blissfully talk about french kissing her.

but now I got me a man.

but now she back I've got no game plan.

tell me can you show me again how life is more than her?