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i have a a cd of my favourite songs ('thinking of you' the very first on the album) wrapped in christmas paper, a present i never ended up mailing. a burned dvd of my dance concert (do you have any videos of you? you had asked) buried beneath a pile of books in my bedroom, patiently waiting to be given to you. there's a succulent on my windowsill, basking in the sunlight, facing towards the road, seeking your presence, your nurturing touch (you will never hold it's soil between your fingertips). i wrote a letter a month ago and never addressed it.
a plane ticket lies in my waste basket, ripped in a thousand pieces (much like my heart) in a moment of bitter rage. you don't know that, though. i bet you're waiting in england, kicking yourself for giving me such a hopeful present when i never gave you a thing (i never got the chance to).
monday 29th december '14 ~ would it be wrong to give your presents to my new boyfriend?
warthogs for men singing amen
i ink my scars with a ball point pen
buffalo grass and ******
they want *** but won't die
i want *** but it's not me
they tell me that I'm pretty

i smoke **** in a blazing forest
i feel as rubbery as a curious tourist
and plenty of coke goes in my nose
i bleed headaches, when it rains it snows
i'm dreaming of a white christmas, i suppose
with my squad when i don't want to feel alone

i make lies but can't hide like room raiders
i cut up coke for all my haters
with a side of oxy
tells me that I'm foxy
right before he knocks me
my brain goes on high alert
i can ******* stomach
because cake was yesterday's desert

i say that we're proxies
i take the red pill
some like oxys  
some like bikini ****
some nights aren't so chill
some brains are mentally ill
but he doesn't like to feel, y'feel

tell me if you want a
*** flavored banana
a broken heart from havana
or to drink my coke flavored blood
dragging me through the mud  

whoops
son of sam
touch my **** like we're not fam
drug me if you want to slam
my head off the coffee table
i'll choke on fear until i'm not stable
i pretend i'm in a fable
this can't be real
does he not feel

break it off and shove it down my throat
cut me into pieces
make a blood moat
oak splinters suffered through winters in my spine
find you in jail and you ask if i'm fine

i break off rhymes like i break out grams
shaking because of a spiked promise
i wish i wasn't here
i wish i wasn't here

sham in the garden of clouds. when you '****' you want people around
when i cry, you hear no sound  

buffalo grass and ******
they ******* but ask why
my box in their face
i don't want to be in this place
i sit here in tomorrow,
as you lay there in yesterday.
sunday 16th november '14 ~ credit: the creep that loved you ~ i find pieces of you in the breaths and whispers of daily life

— The End —