i want to start living but more than that i want to stop breathing i want to forget and move on and not be hindered by these weights but they told me anchors are supposed to be good things they told me that i will not be swept into the ocean but they never told me about the tsunamis that crush the foothold and drag you to the bottom and leave you there to die they did not tell me that i would want to be embraced by the earth that will inevitably cover my corpse when i have left my body because i am already dead and there is nothing more and i am done fighting i dont know how to swim any more i dont want to see the sky because the sun is not inviting when it burns my skin and the rain is cold but in the ocean everything is constant and i could use the silence

what do you tell yourself when you know you're inferior
i'm surrounded by gods who make art from their pain
they can write, draw, sing, pluck strings
do they know i'm special?
do they know i can carve promises into my thighs with a blade that's been more intimate with me than anyone i know?
do they know how much i ******* hurt because there's no outlet for my shame,
there's nothing to do when no one wants to love you.
what do you tell yourself when you want to give up
and there's no more comfort in wrecking yourself

I am not a Good Person
I will tear your heart out and stomp on it,
throw it to the dogs
let you watch the love drain from your own body

I am not a Good Person
I will love you and hold you in my hands
like a wounded bird
and I will fix broken wings
before I smash them to pieces once again

I am not a Good Person
and you will wind up hurt very soon
if you do not take your vessels and leave me stranded here
quaking in your absence

in the end i cant decide
if it is better to love another broken thing
or if it is even possible to love something that is whole

Worlds apart but we understand each other
We're not even together and we talk about a future that's set in stone
I can hold your hand from a distance but I wanna touch your face
Tell you how you've got me caught up in you
Well, that's not such a bad thing
Well, you're not such a bad thing

I think I could get used to this
(I already have)

Sometimes I look at her and still think of home.
She ignited a spark in me and I had to stifle it:
wildfires never got me anywhere, and smoke lures the beasts.

Where do you go when you're posing for your demons?
What shadowless space is left in your head, inviting you to stay for a while?
I would think of her and they ran, still lurking but never touching, yelling from afar.
But a lack of refuel muted the engine and caused me to stutter,
things can only go so far when you're running on empty.

I learned to never regret but it's something else entirely,
walking through your home when it's empty and waiting for someone else to move in.

Hypocrisy is buried deep in your bones,
nestled between the promises you kept tucked into your skin
and the charm you held on your tongue.
"Don't hurt them," you said,
"Don't hurt the ones who care about you
and leave them for someone who doesn't give a ****."

Well, Lovely,
see how the tables have turned?
I suppose you figured out that 'evil' spelled backwards is 'live.'