my illusions are misdiagnosed as reality. tell me im good but whats underneath? lessons that never fully sank in, trauma i didnt attempt to speak about, repressed memories found in body bags. flowers bloom on the surface of my skin and they are filled with rot. absorbing my blood, relying on photosynthesis when i hide from the sun. fear is home, anger is comforting. i enjoy the miserable things in life. i built myself a box with indestructible walls decorated in some kind of sad homage to the girl i killed inside my own head. i used to live life with a sort of ferocious curiosity. now i sit in uncomfortable rooms waiting for air conditioning that wont turn on and highs that never let me come down.

meeting the devil at a run down 7/11 in a tiny town with a name i cant remember. looking him in the eye and asking him why. why do i deserve hell? he smiled, then he winked. he was gone. do i deserve hell? do i deserve eternal damnation for things that seem out of my control? pretty purple skies and clouds that glisten in the moon light. rolling blunts on garden tables with plants greener than the bud i can never stop smoking. tell me i deserve the pearly white picket fence gates of heaven. tell me you think im wholesome and irreplaceable. loving a boy with dark hair and dark eyes and a dark mind. being a pink hued girl with big eyes and an even bigger imagination. do i deserve hell when my heart is this forgiving?