i leave droplets of tears,
whenever &
whatever
i write
...
.

I don't think
I've ever live
for love.

Responsibility is quite heavy...

you don't have to be pretty
or be beautiful physically
or be great at
anything you love....

as long as you're there
for me to see
and lean on
once every often

and by knowing that you
care and hold me close
to your heart
once every often
i know i can
live life
well
enough.

Hide the scars
draw a heart
on your arm
take a picture
add a filter
kiss her scars
"stay strong, love"

Only discuss what your feeling,
never share the real meaning
maybe someone will like you if you have bigger problems
joking with yourself when they barely even hit the quantum
Must've wanted to see what was so attractive
Picked up a blade then blamed me after
words are painful
piercingly baneful
Dug a deeper hole so you can bury me, just haphazards,

So immune to what your saying
you lied to me
so focused on what you're really hating
wanted to get into a fight
so you poisoned me at night.
think you're so poetic?
stop it.

It's pretty hard to stay clean
Looking in the mirror is so much harder than it seems
hard to keep on trucking
when your so bloodsucking
your actions are the kind that pull the noose up the tree
I wish it had all been fake
you put your heart out on a plate
for everyone to sample
if only they knew how you're never organically explaining
serving things the people should be disdaining

You have no idea
romanticizing for whoever's listening
when they say your so **** talented, your face must be glistening
You don't understand me
and this life you've created for yourself
writing about a life you know nothing about
how many times do I need to say it to get it in your head
You'll never understand the feeling of waking up
and wishing
you were
dead.

Hide the scars
rip the heart
on my sleeve
take your picture
add that filter
hope you're happy
"stay strong, dear"

he sits all alone
in a smoky dusty bar
in a twilight zone of his own
he counts the neon stars

he isn't anywhere
and he isn't going anywhere

he sits by himself
as another day passes
like the bottles on the shelf
and the empty glasses

These words...
They traverse the fine line between earth and sky.
They dwell not, surface-deep in the dirt.
They be haloed not, as the chorus of heaven.

They're just murmurs that swim intangible.
Like reticulated wisps of smoke.
Incapable of materialising...
Or take definite forms on their own.

They only await to be carefully selected,
rearranged and harnessed into a jar...
Before being sealed infinite with a title.

Be quiet and still...
For you will hear them.
Milling and floating in the silence
that exists between your heartbeats.

Listen close...
For they are fragments of you
and the universe.
They're thoughts and feelings that come awake
as you slumber.

Awaiting to be selected...
Awaiting to be rearranged...
Awaiting to be harnessed...

By you,
the conduit with a pen.