how do i always manage to end up with my gloves up?

imagine this:
unbroken eye contact leads to an exchange of numbers that are now part of the modern identity
you think i can't tell how fearful and intrigued you are of my sharp tongue
intrigue leads to lust
rolling around flannel sheets at 2 am after hours of ****** bliss
then we sleep for hours and hours
swimming through each other's dreams like mermaids in the sea
repeat
repeat
your laugh begins to annoy me
repeat
my unwavering adoration is beginning to make you feel trapped
repeat
egos bruised and words that can't be taken back are thrown against the wall
repeat
i've been pushed over the edge
repeat
sleep alone
repeat
want you back
repeat





it's over.



start from the top again.

to the people who have seen more blades in blood splattered bathroom sinks than those in shoulders, i say
you beautiful bright light; you founder of cities that celebrate; you body full of black and ivory piano keys—
cover yourself in positivity, stop cutting yourself and start cutting strings with those who make you, with those who look at you like you're something to be ashamed of.
somewhere, in a hospital, a woman dies while giving birth. you tell yourself that she is stronger than you, more deserving of a life, that you would want to change places.
don't.
death of others doesn't justify yours.
to the people who have seen more blades in blood splattered bathroom sinks than those in shoulders, i say
i’m sorry.

if seeing you naked
means seeing the scars you hide beneath your clothing
then i will kiss them
before i even lay my lips yours

The walls of my heart,
they clench me in.
The voices in my head,
they tell me the worst things I've always read.
The words I hear,
they're the things that I always fear.
The dinner I ate,
I let them find their way back up.
The ink in my wrists,
I watch them flow from thin lines.
The fear I feel,
they make the monsters real.
The anxiety I feel,
it overwhelms me.
The things I feel,
they make me hate me.
they make me loathe me.
they **** me.

i think I want to go to sleep.
Drifting, Drifting,
Beautifly.
Softly.
Like nobody would even wake me again.
Like I would never wake again.
That's what I want.
I beg you.
Drift me to sleep, And never wake me.
Never.
To fly away, Slowly, Softly, Just bouncing on the waves of time
That's what I want.
I don't think they can feel anymore. I think they've come too far for that.
I guess I'll never know, because today, today is the day I drift myself off and never wake.
I like to think
that I might be remembered for something other than this.
That I might be remembered for my art.
Or the way I smiled at the birds.
But I know they won't remember.
They'll just say they're sorry.
They'll just say they wished they'd done something.
But that's a lie. I'd rather just drift away then believe that.
I pray to drift me away softly, Boucing on the riverbed.
I hope nobody ever finds me, I don't want to be found.
I want to be hidden away in the folds of the earth, to stay buried and blanketed by the world.
Without a distrupion in sight, I want to lay, covered by sound and time.
But I can't want anymore. And I won't want anymore.
It's time to do.
I think I want it to be beautiful.
I want to jump off a cliff, and for that one moment, to be suspended in time, freefalling but really not falling at all.
Soaring.  
Above it all, Above emotion and conciousness.
I just want to float in time, So they all forget about me.
So I can stay forever blanketed in the world's folds.
Just me, and whatever is on the other side.
Just promise you won't forget me.
Promise.

dripping eyes

tearing skin

trying hard

to hurt within

because sometimes pain

is the last thing

we feel

and sometimes it is

better to feel pain

than to feel nothing

*at all