و لا شي.

Such a sad summer night
on the abandoned hill
black defeated white
no stories left to tell
my child cried day and night
"Mother, i'm not feeling well"
"you'll be fine tonight"
i whispered as she fell
in my arms
and died.

Such sad a winter night
on the abandoned hill
no black, no white
no one left to ****
i still mourn my child
and now I'm not feeling well
but I am not to be held
for everyone's dead
and alone I shall die.

I open the gates and I let them in
they crawl like cockroaches under my innocent skin
they yell at me to give in
but I resist
and
yet
I surrender
i try my best not to exist
i pretend that i'm a bench
where they like to sit
i cry and die and then mourn myself
i watch them laugh and love and then **** themselves

I was sitting in the middle of crooked roads
and singing to the passersby about us
and our love
a lie

the bridges were slowly thinning in to
nothing
but old DVDs we used to watch when our minds were marinated with
empty vow books
and
your memory was seeping away with every note
dissected
in to atom-sized pieces of photo paper that was
impossible
to mend

I saw the sand particles of hourglasses run out
and almost forgot you
but then
whispers of your voice reverberated
swinging recorded words like tongue twisters
I covered my ears before your wavelengths could clash with
mine
and we would be
whole
once again

We are out of time.

Why do you seem so impossible to me? You are the epitome of all the things I should run from, but choose to love instead. You tell me about the magnificence that comes from your touch; tell me your hands are made of God as if I didn't already know. I look at you as all things heavenly, my lips are drenched in wine and yours are dripping with lust. You turn me in to all the things I want so desperately to become; all the things I fear of becoming. You are a mess of a human being but there are parts of me that I see in you, and you hide behind the heartless when in reality you just want someone to knock down the walls of your heart again. I do not want to waste away waiting for you; he who has been waiting for nothing in particular his entire life.

I want to know every inch of you, but even when we are centimetres apart you still appear to be so far away from me. The truth is that you just see me as some kind of divine forbidden fruit, and so you speak in tongues I don't understand and make me feel cheap and easy. It sickens me because I know you are just another to take advantage of my big heart. You want to take little pieces of me but not the whole of me.

Can't you see? I want to carve you in to my bones so I can hold you eternally, I want to inhale you like cigarette smoke and then never exhale again. You have been ******* me for days without even touching me, without even being in the same place as me. I want you and I want to love you but I refuse, I refuse, I refuse -

I will not be drowned again.

- m.k

I am the ghost
of a girl you once claimed to love;
my dead hands

reaching,
asking,
begging

for a piece of your soul
to wallow in forever.

There will come a time when you are sick
of trying to understand my mind
and my wrists.

I was never myself when I did this.

If I were part of the ocean
I would be the shallows;
the cold tide that people walk all over

reaching,
asking,
begging

to pull people in
but never getting close enough.

I was never myself when I did that.

I plead,
help me live once again
as something new born and blind;
blind to the atrocities of humanity,
but all seeing to life and love.

Love,
the only thing that could ever constitute
as sacred;
a relentless, chemical energy
that turns you in to a fool in all the right ways.
A substance more intelligent
than any apparent genius.
Oh, how the love

reaches,
asks,
begs

to confine me,
and oh, sweet love;
how I let you fill my lungs.

I was never myself when I was with you.

I’ve held hands with pain,
kissed every frozen fingertip
and I found my worship in ethanol and ash
before I found it in between
your lips and mine.

You changed me in all the worst ways,
causing me to start a war with my skin,
causing me to see my own reflection
as something unrecognisable,
something I never wanted to be.

I was never myself.

I made the mistake of building a home
out of a human being
and he was so riddled with wanderlust;
a nomadic masterpiece who couldn’t stay,
but should’ve stayed.

I’ve never felt so homesick.

I’m tired of tearing away my skin
and revealing the heart inside me
to people that are incapable of loving anything
other than themselves
and their sadness.

I crave for someone
to look at me as though
they can see my soul
more than they can see my skin.
I crave for someone
to see
what I wish to see.

More than anything,
I crave to see me:

*strong,
magnificent,
and beautiful.

She's a small town girl, but she thinks she's made for the big city. You've seen her; walking through the streets, cigarette between her lips and a glint in her eye that says ''you don't know **** about me.'' She's the simple body, simple face, simple voice but she's a disaster just waiting to happen. She's a volcano ready to erupt in the most beautiful way possible.

She looks at you with her eyes giving nothing away, piercing your soul, overpowering your mind with 1000 questions, the first being ''who are you?'' But you don't ask because in all honesty, it's more exciting that way and she has no ******* clue who she is. You wanna know her, right? You want her to open herself up and reveal to you all those sacred parts of her body. You want to explore her skin, feel her bones. You want her to leave a mark on you made of lipstick, you want your sheets to smell like her perfume and you always want more.

She isn't going to give you more.

She's a timebomb, ticking away the more you watch her. It makes her angry. She knows your staring at her *** as she walks away and she's wondering why you still won't look her in the eyes when she talks to you. She might rip her clothes off for you but she's never going to let you behind her skin. It's dark there and sometimes, there isn't a way out... at least for her. She knows you're going to leave and she's waiting. And when you leave, she'll cry for you. She'll cry herself to sleep.

But it's okay, because one day she'll live in the big city. It's okay because she'll find someone else, right? It's okay to treat her like a cheap ******* because one day she'll find someone who doesn't. And all of this pain she feels, all of these tears; they're just temporary. No way could you hurt her permanantly. I mean, she'll get over it, right?