jul 3d
i am lacking the ability to be happy alone.
surrounded by my thoughts that i cannot control.
my words do not make sounds; they make poems.
compiled of emotions that i do not know.
strings tied to the corners of my mouth.
i tend to forget that i am bound.
hidden my inner demons, let my angels run around,
but what i want to say is not said
out load.

i feel trapped in an open room.
lost with an empty soul.

comfort me, please,
for i cannot comfort myself.
jul Aug 21
often i think of your smile
the way it reminds me of summer kisses on your bed,
and the way our bodies would sink into the mattress, enveloped into its arms as if it needed our warmth.
a mess surrounded us but even we were a mess ourselves.
and i often think of your hands,
flames dancing along my skin,
waves submerging my thoughts.

ive lost myself within you.
and somehow i feel complete.
jul Jul 22
i should sleep but dream has become reality and i can no longer close my eyes in fear that it'll disappear to nothing.
the absence of you reminds me of quiet evenings where i'd lay down staring at the white ceiling above me
and the silence was never more peaceful than those moments of feeling like nothing but everything.
i miss you.
           good night.
jul Jul 16
i know you want to believe that i am perfect,
but i cannot guarantee it.
scars from scabs decorate my legs and even marred my back.
i'm afraid to wear skin-tight dresses for my body is not ideal.
i know you want to believe that i am perfect,
but i cannot guarantee it.
for while you are absent at the moment, i think of the possibilities of you finding a coefficient for an expression that equals a positive integer; a whole.
thinking of the time that has not been given to me, the possibility of it being given to another.
maybe i am too attached.
maybe i am too insane.
i am not an intellectual,
just someone rambling and scrambling their words to make it seem as if i am.
i am not perfect, by all means.

because on messy days, i cannot even look at myself.
because the knots in my hair resembles the knots in my chest and i cannot even untangle them.
because no matter how often you tell me im beautiful, i cannot find the truth there, and that is a real shame.
i am not perfect, so please, don't hold me to that expectation.
might edit.
jul Jul 15
be loved
love back.

be forgotten.
jul Jul 12
What am I writing for?
Who am I writing for?
I'd like to say that I'm writing for myself to obtain purpose, but yet i think of those that will read this, and think of what they think.

The lights strung around my mirror are beginning to sleep.
The fan never seems to be exhausted despite constantly running in circles.
My skin becomes irritated by the nagging of my fingernails.

I've become tired of my mind, and it has become tired of me.
3 am thoughts
  Jun 21 jul
i've bitten my tongue so much
that it bleeds because it stops me from talking,
helps to keep the peace.
it stains my lips red as a reminder
that your words can start wars,
hurting those around you and
leaving destruction in their wake.
for what is the worth of the blood of one
when it has saved the lives of many?
You impacted me in a way I can't put into words. You saved me, but, in the end, no one could save you. I'm sorry this is how your story had to end. You'll live on.      r.i.p. xxxtentacion
Next page