You cant save my life
I am drawn
drawn in my own pain

You cant make me happy
I am covered
Covered with my own grief

You cant read me
I am written in the paper
damped by my own tears

There is a woman
Named Sumina
Who is from Kathmandu

Hope you have a good day
Your poetry is beautiful
And so are you

i may be a demon.
i honestly think we all are.

but its the person that exorcises you,
that shows you love and forces you to fall.

24 hours ago I was someone different
but right now I'm crying right where I'm sitting:
in this old photo booth on the side of the beach
where you left me after saying that we should end things
because this wasn't turning out the way that you expected it to be.

Of all the dark rooms I have visited in my life
There's this one which my heart,
                                     my tears;
                                     and blood;
            have built a home at
Every part of me clashes in each wall
And I can feel my consciousness fade out with the rest of the world
I bathe in my existence alone
(in the deepest secrets that flow in my veins)

            Scratches on the floor.
            Footprints on my heart.
            Wrecks from the ceiling.
            Cobwebs in my mind.

Sighs
Warm and heavy and bittersweet sighs;
The forces within are the air I breathe
It suffocates my lungs but still allows me to live
It is toxic and I like it,
                                     every
                                     single
                                     corner
                                     of it
It is an obscure, bad, bad room only my alter ego knows about
Like a cozy place for making love.
Like a perfect space for plotting crimes.