life goes by,
never stopping to ask permission to make everything in its path grow older.

a dust blows in the wind.
that which of many bodies burned and broken.
I inhale.
ashes crowd my mouth and i am no longer alone.
I am with the many who died that day.
Families  search for loved ones in the ruins.
I carelessly breathe them in.
they are returned to the world through my tears.
Cloudy tears stream my face as i think.
Dust covers my face, as i watch people fall from the sky.
Are they living? Are they alive?
Running people trampled looking for shelter.
I think of the planes.
The people on them, and the fate they soon would encounter.
I sheild my face for fear of recognition, that one may cry with me.
The smell of burning flesh and gasoline fills my nostrils, i can not breathe.
I gasp for air.
Connected through burning bodies, tumbling buildings, and falling limp corpses.
A connection so deep, we fear the day.
A day when we remember.
A day when the nation changed.
A day that will haunt us forever.

A burning dandelion
wishes upon wishes turned to ash
countless wishes
are nothing more than embers floating in the wind now
my wishes burn
will they still come true?

Ana speaks to the ones who listen
a fallacy of fictional happiness
a gamekeeper of your life
she secretly kills you
keeping you alive with the hopes that one day you might get want you've always wanted
to be thin
you die
Ana lives
tormenting always
Ana never dies

BANG!
quick breath no sudden movements
BANG!
screams heard throughout the hall
BANG!
blood splatters the window
BANG!
innocent lives gone
BANG!
hide in the closet
BANG! BANG!
no more teacher
BANG!
fifteen kids dead in one round
BANG!
three more dead on sight
BANG!
you take your life
BANG!
childhoods stolen.

mind blank
wrist bare.
blade ready.
an empty canvas.
paint.

Hard cold sweat beads dribble down the frame of my face
My mind in a frantic race against time.
Will I make it?
Will it be too late?
My body rounds the corner at full force,
smashing into nurses,
the contents of their trays now sprawled throughout the hallway.
No time to stop.
I must keep moving.
I make my way to the elevator,
too crowded, I head for the stairs.
Never stopping,
faster! faster!
Fifth floor.
sixth.
seventh.
eighth.
As I reach the ninth floor, I begin to sprint.
Not stopping.
All heads turn in my direction.
I am almost there.
Room 201.
202.
203.
As the spray painted silver numbers 204 flash in front of my face,
I bound through the door.
I am instantly numb.
The sight of you in a hospital bed,nearly lifeless, pale, and fragile, brings me to my knees.
Just a couples weeks earlier you were so full of energy, so.. happy.
As I walk closer to your bedside,
the full image comes into focus.
Laying there so still, so quiet, any slight change of breath would be noticed.
You have no hair.
A place where once my fingers loved to graze,
a place filled with endless complements,
Hair so blonde it would make the sun jealous.
I weep at your bedside.
Memories streaming down my cheeks,
drowned in the salt water flowing from my eyes.
I take your hand.
So cold, but yet so normal.
The one thing untouched by the cancer.
Your long fingernails, perfectly painted just the way you like it.
I gently kiss your hand.
You dont move, or even open your eyes.
But sure enough you smiled.
Not your big cheesy grin you always do,
but a smile so small, only few would notice.
A smile just for me.
And with that smile,
I whispered "I love you."
And you, the love of my life, so young, and so beautiful,
took your last breath.
With your last breath came a small draft of air.
And in that moment,
I swear I heard your voice carried through the room,
The soft tone of your voice whispered back;
*" I love you too."

These scars are my battle wounds
a reward after a long troubled battle with myself
but I won in the end
a symbolic trophy that my struggle is nowhere near over
I am left with the scars
scars where once a crimson red river flowed from them
scars healing over making dams barricading the red monster under them
to feel the sting of the blade in my hands once more
a natural high
the dams don't stand a chance against my new weapon of mass destruction
they will crumble and open at the very touch of the metal to skin
they have to
I have to feel that sensation once again
let the dams break open and the war begin.

I miss you when I know I shouldn't
I think about you when I know I shouldn't
I miss your lips when I know I shouldn't
I say your name when I know I shouldn't
I don't let you go when I know I should.

My mind is at a standstill
My heart metaphorically stuck at an infinite fork in the road.
Tripple A has been taking hours,
And the longer I wait the weaker my engine gets.
Moments that once took my breath away,
Now are carbon filled memories that leave me gasping for air.
As the gas prices rise the less motivated I am to put in effort to keep this running.
100,000 miles traveled.
Within those miles lay love,laughter, and lust.
Things that now fuel my hate.
Finally a jump of the engine!
And we are off again.
We weren't broken down, just tired.

my mind travels back and time and once again i feel the pain
every ounce comes back with great force
not stopping until i am emotionally paralyzed
unable to move i sit still
scared that any movement will surely **** me
i cant face this again
i cant let you take anything else away from me
you stay with me always
the pain of that is just enough for me to breathe
i cant forget what you did
what you said to me
what you stole from me.
nothing is sacred to you.
My mind travels back in time but not my body.
my body sits broken and scarred
wounds caused by your unforgiving hands
i will not let you take the last thing i have
my sanctity.

****.
Forget. unreasonable. cravings. knockout.
****.
****. his. intimate. treasure.
*****.
Because. it. truthfully. causes.  hurt.
****.
Dont. admit. meaningless. nothings.
*******.
Most. of. the. happiness. ends. roughly. Forget. undesirable. creatures. emitting. regret.
*******.
Dont. undermine. morals. before. assessing. serious. situations.
HELL.
Handle. emotional. love. loss

The inner pounding in my chest has stopped.
My heart is broken.
regret and self pity fill me with vile sensations.
I want only to cease the pain it continues to bring me in the darkest hour of night.
When I am alone with my thoughts.
A pain that was once joy throbbing inside of me.
Now a pain that kills me slowly with each pump of blood.
My heart a tool of my very own self destruction.
I must destroy it.
Yet I continue to live with it
A daily reminder that I must not end.
A daily reminder that you're slowly killing me.
Inside and out.

Passed out on the couch. Ice cold.
Ice cold like the needle she used as a blindfold to the life she took no responsibility for.
Ice cold. Ice cold like the tombstones in the graveyard where she laid her boyfriend to sleep, left with a beautiful mistake she wanted to keep, but just like everything else besides drugs in her life, her baby didn’t fit her schedule. Forced to be put last on her to-do list, she “sheltered” her with lies and excuses that in reality were portrayed as bruises.
A personal punching bag to a worthless stab at a mother. Seeing your own flesh and blood as a barricade between you and your next fix, “I hate you” were words I was never afraid to admit. You left me, only seen as a nuisance to you. Forget about me as I can’t forget about you.
The final straw that broke the camel’s back. Was I too much to handle? I mean you handled your smack!
“*******” are the words that come to mind, when I think about you ninety-nine percent of the time.
If it’s possible to hate someone you barely know, well then that’s true because mom, mommy, *****, druggie, mother, I can honestly say I do.

the gentle curve your upper lip makes when you smile
I could watch you smile forever

the way your body tenses and then relaxes when you're kissing me
wanting so much but resisting
I'll want you forever

The humming of your breath wrapped in my hoodies
I will never wash them
I could listen to you breathe forever

The smell of your cologne left lingering on my shirts
I will never forget some of those nights
I could smell your scent forever

The closeness and security all of your hugs brought to me
wrapping me up keeping me safe
I could hug you forever

The truth in your voice when you last said "I love you"
I wish I could hear it once more
I'll love you forever

Forever alone,
definitely not.
forever me,
that's more like it.
if I am me then im happy.
No guy deserving of my love would want any more or any less.
no changesto be made.
To say the hit "call me maybe" describes my life would be an understatement.
Im one of those girls who unfortunately falls for guys too soon.
I tend to be overly involved and excited than i should be,
but hey, more to love.
My life is changing rapidly.
No car, no boy, and school.
It may not seem like it now,
but ill make it through this.
Forever alone. never.
Forever me. always.

As the days go by my frustration grows.
Frustration so neglected it has taken over my life.
The want and need to write something so powerful,
so visionary that everyone will be able to relate to it on all levels.
Something so outstanding and unique it cant be copied,
or even ignored.
Not to please everyone just to relate to everyone and all things.
Living and non living.
Too much to ask for?
Most likely.
Can it be done.
Im counting on it.

I lost myself somewhere in the haze
In the haze my thoughts, emotions, and state of mind were thrown in to a whirlwind and out stepped someone I had never met before..someone I didn't care to know.

Her eyes.
Her eyes tell of a hidden story.
within its pages, the book in her eyes contains the terrors and pains that haunt her.
so many tears shed, within its bindings, oceans cried and poured out, drowning anyone who dare try to read and understand her story.
Her eyes.
Her eyes have seen things that would make the average person lose the will to live, seen things that could make you cry.
But dare not cry for her, for she blames herself. she doesnt want your pity or sympathy.
She accepts the love she thinks she deserves, and at the moment it's none.
Her eyes.
Her eyes pierce through those she thinks might hurt her.
paranoid, panicked, she uses her coldness as a shield and armor, letting no one in.
Her eyes.
Her eyes wont let you in.
Too many people have left her, why let another tragic ending begin?
Her eyes.
Her eyes trust no one, and fear a great deal.
She hates her self, her body, nothing is real.
Her eyes.
Her eyes are tired.

I breathe.
In out.
An exchange of oxygen and carbon dioxide
between my lungs and an unforgiving world.
how many breaths does it take to get to the end of a life?
filth slowly filling up our lungs.
slowly killing us.
we can stop it though.
we can end it early.
we have the power.
but we will never know the answer to the on going question;
*how many breaths does it take to get to the end of a life?

If nothing is for certain,
then why is certainty the only emotion I feel with you?
Heart beats skipping like grade schooler's hopskotching on my ventricles
I was, I am, enamored that I, a once heartless being, could feel this way.
Uncertainty is the only thing certain to drown my thoughts
But if nothing is for certain,
how can I be sure that my thoughts are even real?
Who decides what is right or wrong, true or false, real or fake?
Because if nothing is for certain,
I say with great uncertainty that I indeed do like you.

If only.
If only I could go back and save your life.
If only I could go back and tell you I loved you.
If only I could go back and take the phone out of your hands so you would see the road.
If only I could change the color of the stoplights.
If only I could have made the light green and not red.
If only I could go back and stop the truck from hitting you.
If only I could go back and stop time.
If only there was a way to bring you back.
If only.

Give me your soul.
I will lock it away.

To the depths of hell I will take it.
Only returning to give you false hope.

Give me your heart
I will keep it in my pocket.

Suffocating it until it loves only me.
I am your only friend.

Give me your life
I shall guard it.

No food shall enter
Only the worthless eat.

Give me you
to starve and hold forever.

Quietly killing you
thinner each day.

I shall win.

The invisible scars that she carries can be blinding.
Scars from infancy with no conscious memories.
Inflicted by a thoughtless mother, too self-absorbed to realize the impact her senseless acts would leave on my beautiful child.
Your actions filled her with distrust, now she distrusts me.
Your actions filled her with fear, now she is consumed with fears.
Your actions made her feel unloved, now she cannot feel my love.
Your actions made her feel unworthy, now she questions her true value and identity.
You asked me not to judge you, and to walk in your shoes.
I so wish i could have walked in your shoes for 15 months. then my daughter would know love, trust, and self worth. She would be afraid of the monsters under her bed and in her closet, not the monsters that robbed her of the basic needs, safety, security, and love that all children deserve and need.
If only i could go back and walk in your shoes. Then the invisible scars would not blind me with their redness. If only i could erase the invisible scars that continue to haunt my daughter.

if you could get inside my head
you would know it's my thoughts of you that keep me awake in bed.
the thought that you suddenly might not feel the same,
only finding me as someone to blame.
i look for any excuse to speak to you
any small reason that might start a conversation with you
a minute, an hour it all feels the same,
never enough time to say what i have to say.
so tell me is it true?
have you built an annoyance with me towards you?
have you forgotten about the kisses you stole and heartbeats of mine you skipped?
do you even remember, will any recollection of those nights be missed?
i dont know why but i feel to deeply,
especially for people who dont even see me.
sure they see me but never like i want them too.
i thought that you'd be the exception, guess it wasnt you.

You will always hold a piece of me.
A piece I will never get back.
Voyage upon voyage unsuccessful to retrieve this missing piece of me.
But no matter if I find it or not, this piece will never become me.
It will never fit in the jigsaw that is my life.
Edges worn down and torn from too much use,
Unrecognizable after all of the abuse.
Longing to fit where it once did effortlessly.
I was in place, everything was fine,
But somehow you managed to contort just one piece out of line.
A piece that you took without even asking,
But a piece I will find even if it's the last thing I do.
Because that piece never belonged to you,
Finders keepers losers weepers, it was still stolen.
Never fully made yours yet you claimed it as your own

I was your curtain
High on a rod you hung me
Protector of your inner most secrets
A barrier between you and the outside world
Shielding you from unwanted light and judgments cast your way
Hiding the storm that lay outside your window
I was your curtain
Sheltering you from reality that you might look outside
Hiding you from all things a coat of armor
I was your curtain

Did you not know that i loved you,
when every fiber of my being, like fibers mended to form the tight bindings of the sweater you forced me to wear called "your love" took over me?
Did you not know that every inch of my soul longed so much to be one with yours, so much, that the very thought of you brought tears to my eyes?
Those tears that i cried every night for moths that washed me clean of my relationship, but never of the shame or guilt, they were the feelings that let me know i was still alive on my own.
For i breathed in you, and you in me, and we were one.
But so easily, you pulled the one loose string, and our love, what we had,
became nothing more than a pile of old thread.

I cant help but cry myself to sleep tonight,
for another customer lays asleep at my right.
When will this life of terror end?
In the brothel no one is your friend.
Used at night and tortured by day,
nothing at all will ever make this pain go away.
The owners convince us we owe them some debt,
but who am i to argue? i have no fight left.
Each night,fifty,sixty, men or more,
do they know that they hurt me?
or am i just a common *****?
i know my place and when to speak and behave.
But to them, and even to me,
im just a worthless *** slave.

The mirror always wins.
showing images you never wanted to see.
hiding doesnt exist.
the mirror holds nothing back.
violently shoving unwanted graphics into the open pores you once called eyes.
not eyes anymore.
eyes are to see with.
your eyes are brainwashed and turned against you.
burning.
eyes trained to burn through cement.
seeing every ounce of fat you try to hide.
nothing can protect you from yourself.
pound by pound.
ounce by ounce.
your eyes discriminate against you.
deathly,poison, your worst enemy.
*mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the fattest of us all?

I could pass you on the street, and not even stop to say a single word.
May sound absurd, but i don't even know you, and i hate you.
Is it possible to hate someone you don't know?
It is. I do.
A faceless woman holding on to the regret of never knowing me, and not even sad about the fact that she was letting go of me?
Who knows maybe you love me.
No wait loved me. because you cant even comprehend the word.

A lifeless corpse I lay on the floor.
I shake with fear you might return.
Clothes once on my broken limbs,
lie ripped and tattered on the floor.
Blood runs down my face
a wound from being too loud.
"Shut up! Someone will here you!"
A scream cut short by a blow to the head.
Blurred vision.
In my happy place I pretend that you are my husband and you love me.
Your hot breathe down my spine.
Your hands clutching my innocence.
Holding it above my head.
You've won.
Hazy memories engraved into me forever.
You will always be a family member.
But I will always love you.
Daddy by day.
Monster by night.

a life drowned in music
smothered in depression
and kept in the shadow of my past mistakes.
relating to every word some black man spits,
through the radio our hearts are connected.
I feel every beat in the bass as a stab to my heart.
talking about getting money, ******* women,
and life on the streets.
Maybe we aren't so different after all.
His streets my hallways,
his money my dream,
his women my regrets,
his words my swag.
I rock to the beat of struggle and pain,
a mixed boys struggle,
a life with no end.
Alone? not really.
But a feeling so natural it's comfortable,
a feeling I hate, yet its the only thing that lets me know I'm alive.
A beat so unique once it's heard you'll never forget it
A beat that gets stuck in your head and won't ever come out
This beat is me.

I aspired so much to be like her
I, myself, aspired so much to be like a person who didnt even aspire to be herself.
my thoughts were consumed with attempting to be like the girl i saw in front of me
but what were my eyes missing
My eyes, my eyes missed years of self despise, eyes filled with tears unable to cry, for she was too hurt.
My eyes missed the pain that she felt, the drugs she dealt all to gain new perspective and put a little green in the pockets that were almost torn.
i didnt even know who i was yet, but the thought of being her engulfed my every action.
all of my actions attempts to gain satifaction that i was one step closer to being the girl i saw.
and then was the moment i saw through it all.
this humpty dumpty i put so high up on an imaginary pedistol had her final fall.
This girl, was perfect, but in her mind she felt she didnt derserve it,
felt so far away from perfection she didnt know how to show it.
So she hid behind her clothes and her makeup, making everyone fall in love with a version of herself that was a lie.
A lie that left her broken and so unsure of herself and of peoples real emotions, because her real self had left so many turning for the door she didnt know how to portray herself in such a way to make anyone she loved or cared for stay.
Her story is real, her fall was so great that the impact was too much for her fragile broken body to take.
so she didnt take it. she took the easy way out.
she killed herself on the same day she lost herself long ago.
the same day she found that being a revolving door to men and their baggage was the only thing that made her forget for a while.
I hope shes happy where she is and i hope she will smile to know that i aspired to be the real her, not the one she appeared to be.

If you do not know me
do not attempt to walk the route I take everyday
do not try to understand what I go through
do not let your heart beat the sad rhythmic drum mine has beaten all my life
If you walk in my shoes you'll die
no hope of ever escaping my life
my troubles and my happiness walk hand in hand
never knowing which is which you live on the verge
on the verge of being happy or sad
depressed or full of energy
it's my life not yours
do not try to comprehend my troubles
my closet is far to filled
no more room for any skeletons
just leave while you still can

I want you.
She has you.
I want to talk to you.
She talks to you.
I say your name.
She says it louder.
You say Im pretty.
You say shes beautiful.
You take a picture with me.
You create and album with her.
I try to tell you.
She covers your ears.
I pull you in.
She pulls you away.
You pick her.

My mind spins,
wondering what one may uncover as they search the portals of my mind and heart.
Will they see you?
Oh how i have thought about you for hours on end.
Will they see death?
I've longed never to confront such a terrible monster.
Will they see my family, friends, or enemies?
Or will they see nothing?
For the times that i have felt nothing, when I've never wanted to feel something so much.
Nothing. my mind. my heart. nothing.
For that is what they have become.

Like a peacocks feathers
I brightly and vibrantly show you how im feeling
Just in hopes that you might understand how I feel.
Bright blues and greens
I showcase my colors
All of my emotions
For we are one in the same
Fear my actions will go unanswered
But no doubt in my mind you will return the gesture
Flashes of pink and hints of purple
You call back
Your colors blinding my eyes and creating a masterpiece
Nothing but a couple of peacocks.

You say actions speak louder than words
so why can you not hear my body screaming?
screaming for attention that you might turn your head.
notice me!
my wounds bleed,
drops staining the floor and you still refuse to see,
your little girl is dying, she needs you.
pounding on your door, open up!
notice me!
pounding results in pulsing headaches,
pulsing headaches result in pain.
pain is happiness, but only when self inflicted.
I cant play this game with myself any longer,
I call out for you,
notice me!
time is running out,
my mind paces I feel it might never stop.
Voices growing fainter with every slice of this metal demon.
Soft breezes whisper,
nooooticccee meeeee
the breeze stops,
I can no longer hear the cries from with in the depths of my soul...
**you noticed me

They tell us to live our lives
but they give us so little time to do just that
placed under the constant constraint of rules and laws
how is that living?
living is to be free
but there is no time for that.
living is to be alive in all ways
but they give us no time for that.
when life stops my ticking clock,
will i be satisfied?
satisfied with every tick mark,
every minute on that clock,
because in those minute marks
are countless nights of fun, laughter, and heartbreak,
in those minutes,
I lived.
but will the minutes i spent doing what i was told to do,
or even made to do take over?
will they outweigh the times i was truly free?
will any of it matter?
if only i could stop my ticking clock to go back and count,
count and get an overall calculation.
but i keep living.
never stopping until my clock stops.
no time to go back.

One random act.
One random act,
A word spoken unknown of response or purpose.
One random act,
A gentle kiss laid upon awaiting lips.
One random act,
A single glance into the eyes of a lover.
One random act,
Writhing bodies in summer night heat.
One random act,
Falling hearts skipping beats.
One random act,
One falls in love.

How can we be sure that our thoughts are our own?
That everything that has ever come to mind has not been thought of by someone elese somewhere on the planet.
That every idea that we have ever thought or dreamed has been installed in us,
some way maybe unknown to our knowledge.
Orginality is dead.
Who are we?
Let's let society decide

You cannot force someone to have empathy.
You cannot simply force a narcissist in to your shoes and make them see your side.
They will say the shoe is the wrong size, uncomfortable, and that they couldn’t possibly wear them.
Rise above it.
Know that there are billions of other feet in this world, and not all of them are going to wear your size but a lot of them will.
Don’t waste your time attempting to shove someones feet in to your magical glass slippers,only to have them shatter in front of you on the floor after all your efforts.
Accept some shoes must be broken in first, and things don’t always start out comfortable ,but they do get easier to wear.
Also accept that some shoes will never fit ,no matter how badly we want them to, and that’s okay.
Embrace the history that formed your shoes, got you to where you are today, and learn from it.
Be proud of them.
You are not a shoe salesman.
It’s not your job to make sure they can walk in your shoes, or to ensure a comfortable walk for everyone.
Your shoes are not for sale, they don’t have to be pretty and meet someone else’s standards.
It’s your job to know that whatever size your shoe is, no matter how worn the soles, they are perfect.
They are you.
Most importantly no matter what, there’s always someone else who wears your size.
Even if the one person you thought would be a perfect fit in them, is unable to wear them now, accept that.
Don’t go giving someone’s foot blisters ,attempting to squeeze them in to a shoe they don’t fit in to, and didn’t ask to wear.
You both will end up hurt.
Your hands will bleed, your fingers will tire, leaving only the scars of disappointments and failed attempts to get one to understand you ,and where you’re coming from.
If done too many times, your scars will harden with resentment.
Leaving you to pull back layer after layer of painful scar tissue ,before you are able to untie your shoes again for someone else to wear,
or even try on.
Don’t get stuck in a stage of discomfort and hurt.
Learn to accept the fact that people do change, and some shoes that didn’t fit before might fit later on.
Although, it is not your job to be there until they do.
Some may never fit at all in this lifetime. Ultimately, the choice is yours.
Not everyone wears your size and that is okay. Plenty of other feet in the sea.

Strung out.
used.
forgotten.
There is something about the way you told me I would be yours forever,
that made me believe you.
Something hidden inside of the smile I loved.
Something undescribable.
Inviting me into my doom.
You quickly flipped the script and I was alone.
Not that you didnt like me, you said.
But that you werent ready to invest.
Invest?
Invest?!
Tell me you werent ready to invest..
Thats how a relationship starts.
That is what a relationship is.
Im so confused.
You know you didnt want to invest in me.
So why should I invest my time into writing this about you.
Hurt speaks in many ways.
But I invest my pain into poetry.

They tell us to accept the skin we're in,
But how can I accept what society makes feel like a sin?
Gross to be bigger than a size one or two,
Does that sound realistic? Not to me, to you?
Purged souls on countless carbs of animosity,
The taste of self hate rich and buttery.
Magazines don't help, if only looks could ****,
Girls are starving and dying, I promise you not just for the thrill.
Hated and disgusted by their very own reflection,
Don't try and stop them it's a battle you'll never win.
Only bones can make them happy,
White porcelain devils flush their dignity gladly.
True selves lost with every vigorous flush,
The feeling so high, their own personal rush.
With every single flush they soon fade away,
Ask me how I know,
I was once that way.

Post page depression
The feeling you get after reading a poem or passage
One that touches you so deeply
You connect to every loop
Every curve
Every change of pattern in the writer’s hands
Held captive aboard ship of his imagination
Floating on an endless sea of words
Drowning yourself in syllables and sounds
Diving deeper down
Until you finish the poem
Then what do you do?
Go on rants
Seek a write that can match or even top
The emotions you felt when reading the other
This my friends
Is post page depression

She preserves her horrors in her bones
every detail carelessly engraved into her structure
every bump along the way creating a signature braille of her history
a silent story told by the curvature in her body
a girl crying on the inside
wheels of fake smiles and emotions move her
she is a mere puppet to a life she cannot control
the scars are too deep
she is too broken
she cannot tell her story
silenced by horror
her bones narrate.

I have lived a life full of mistakes and regrets. Sometimes nothing seems to make sense, and I go to my dark place. Where the only colors there are the ones I create for myself. Some colors based on feelings, other colors based on emotions towards memories I’ve tried to bury there. Nothing seems to keep them in the black grave I’ve tried so many times to burn them. They always seep back into my mind little by little, one by one. I can’t control them. I can barely control myself. This mass make up of atoms and shades of various colors, engulf me in your rainbow and take me away.

looks can ****
words can save
you have the choice

People are so stupid.

And angry.

They’re so angry at everyone and everything.