My Paper is a blank reflection of myself waiting for my words to paint it in
its purest form
to show the world who I really am
and its never actually something that i want to read

You are everything i wanted it to be
(Whatever it was)
Because words look so different
when im near you
And don’t mean anything to me.
Friend, you are what peace is,
What i want
What everyone needs

Honest and as happy as you are
Sometimes, i feel
Awful things, outcasted
When you make that stupid decision
Again.
How many times does it run through your head?
Can you catch it? How do you get it?
Do you forget, i want to forget.
If that’s so then, we haven’t learnt anything
So lets
Remember our bedrooms
Friend,
Friends and family?
When it is all of us
Within four walls,
closing us in:
Making up our own world with
Our thoughts, our minds together
At peace, within our existence
Creating Our Own Meanings.

I Love you...
But
Meanings dont mean anything
when we’re in the same room
Together.
Happyornot,
Lets just create time together
So we can waste it
Because you are all everything to me
           You are everything i wanted it to be.

Being is an ocean and
I Saw you in a dream
filtering sand
Through your tiny fingers,
Breathing me in. In morning,
I’ll find your creases in the sheets
Your words in my head,
flashing images inside
my eyes
Your crispy voice sleeps in my ear.
The kitten smile
your angel white lies
In your deceitful eyes,
But
Ill keep waiting for
Your boat to sink,
You ******* liar.

Cold blooded angel begging for death
Asking for a smile next to her bed.
Heavens gift with hells deliverey
Giving her property and broken bulbs
For a head thats alone with me.

When i speak to her
Or her wings, the thought goes.
If i had said what i wanted to properly
Nothing would of changed.
Id still be in the floors.
Hiding up,
to warm up my feelings
with cold metaphors.

The diadems are all on a dead star
Ruling over the moon, covered in snow.
Milk lights, paper planets
all ready to burn and bubble at the sight of the red eye. Afloat,
i look out amongst the sea of fallen kings watching the black paint suffocate them to death, taking their reign back and again, until
their emptiness is full. So it can snow in space
             This is:
The end of the whiteness of nothing and the end of nothing itself.