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xmelancholix Dec 2018
I want to do it.
I want to.
I want to do it slowly, and I want to lie on the ground.
I don't want to get up.
I dialed the hotline again only to hang up.
I know I can't because then you would too.
That would be worse.
Your mom and family.
I'm so far away,
it'd barely make a difference.
Why won't you talk to me like you used to.
I'm beginning to think I'm just some sort of
muse to hurt you in small ways that
turn into big ways to
turn into songs for me to
turn over and listen to
while I want to do it.
I want to.
I want to do it slowly, and lie underground.
it's fine
xmelancholix Sep 2018
****,
I saw you liked an insta post on
something that I might have done long ago
and you even commented on it and now I don't know
if you're annoyed with me or if you want me to go
but I'm already far away and each and every day
I've been staring at the wall for all the hours I'm awake
you're occupied with your school work
trying to pass the time
and I can't even write you a song because my
poems rarely rhyme.
I keep wondering if I did something to make you not like me
but it's kinda hard to **** things up when all I do is sleep.
I know it's my anxiety that makes me feel like this
but just this afternoon I wrote a paper about your kiss
it's probably a ******* that never could compare to
the way you make me feel, I could never even dare
to try to put exactly what you mean to me into words
and I'm sorry that I'm paranoid
I think I'm getting worse.
I feel really ill
xmelancholix Sep 2018
I know I said that I wouldn't write too much anymore but now it's all I can drag myself to do.
I almost called the suicide hotline 20 minutes ago because I was sad and the days seem to drag and I try to make myself look happy but I'm so ******* miserable underneath Especially on nights like these.
I sit and I cry and I cry and I cry and nothing helps.
I took a shower so hot that my entire body turned bright red and stood in it until I felt nothing. I picked up a pencil and tried to draw but my hand didn't move and I made eye contact with myself in the mirror and I cried again .
I hate the way I look when I cry, and that made me cry harder.
I want to eat again but that'd be the fourth time today and I'm too afraid to.
The kids across the hall are getting drunk and I can hear them stumbling around and I wonder what it's like to be them right now.
I'm not writing this to get attention, I'm writing this to get it off my chest.
I feel a little bit better now.
I'll be fine tomorrow.
  May 2018 xmelancholix
Jack
“please be *****”

she stands in her doorway wearing just a gown,
I walk in the house, dumbstruck by beauty,
up in her room undoing the bow, the shield simply slides down
caressing her curves, stroking down to the floor,
intertwined bodies craving the touch of the other,
joined as one in the gentle acts of love and ****,
romanticised ideals of perfection and soft rhythm,
delicate groans as two become one,
the broken poet, for the moment, is gone,
my drug addiction of you, just wanting more,
As my heart bleeds, love begins to pour.

“please be *****”.
this poem is influenced by The 1975 instrumental song "please be *****". i regularly think of this song as romanticising the act of *** and the trust required with it rather than what most songs make it today. despite having no lyrics the song speaks volumes to me and id definitely recommend it to anyone. stay safe and live well. JY x
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