I'm ready to forgive you
but forgetting is a harder fight
She is everything to me.
The moon within you.
Yes. I am in that realm near love but not fully engulfed.
What you really need to understand is
nobody can break my heart
you'll be ****** if you think you can hurt me
I've seen myself in the mirror at 3am and
the bruises and stab wounds that consumed me like
maggots in a freshly made corpse left outside
it didn't even make me flinch
what I'm trying to say is
there is nothing you can do to me that
hasn't been done one thousand times worse already
you, you of all people?
you won't hurt me
not even a scratch.
some super cool teenagers gathered together and got high
and played ****** knuckles with a dozen dimes
there is nothing profound about my faux-addiction, the prescriptions mean nothing to me-
they don't even get me all that high
they don't taste good and nobody thinks I'm cool
all I'm doing is emulating people that would rather die then take a long hard look in the mirror
but I'm so **** vain,
self pity is not the reason I do this to myself
I just like to self destruct from time to time
the odd attempt on my life or a few bruises here and there
I just love to die
let me be mortal and ethereal at the same time
when I'm on the verge of a mental break because I 'forgot' to take my medication
the feeling is breathless, ******* angelic
it gets me closer to godliness than anything else
"dying is an art like everything else / I do it exceptionally well." - Sylvia Plath.
tears in their eyes
tearing apart failed exams and tearing yourself away from everyone you love and tearing your skin open just to make your eyes water,
into tiny little pieces
tearing up at the though of it
playin with words
I choose my bad influences very carefully,
hippies and faux-punk kids that don't particularly believe in anything
but being kind
the human aspects of addiction
sharing needles is a kindness, a generous gesture
the disease in my blood, addiction
along with the ***
friendship, comradary, its a wonderful hardship to bare with one another
its sad to be united over this,
but if we're going to ruin ourselves and die
at least we won't do it alone
sat on a bench in dusky darkness
notepad and cigarette in hand
far too enthralled in my own creative genius to realise
I got ash and cinders on my trench coat
a small grey hole pierced the sleek black look I was going for
and when I smell burning
I look down and sigh
now how am I going to get people to think I'm deep?
I'm so **** pretentious, I need to take it back a notch.
paler than the ale that we drown in
downing it harder than we search for meaning
living fast and dying faster