In pain, in vain, my body starts
to tingle. When there is not a single
choice of yours to all the seperate parts
of you, it takes some time to mingle

vanity with depression. Every session,
every lesson, to sit and watch, a born,
so very born, strong and wealthy obsession.
I should have ran and long ago torn

myself away. I wish to control my adoration,
I want to choose with whom I fall in love.
Rejected by those and reject the others, elation
is my second motive. If I had only shoven

her away from me, when I could. Being none,
it's worse than being nothing, doings undone.

Anyone who disses you for your style
is merely too ashamed of themselves
to allow their own style to shine through.

If it makes you happy
and it doesn't hurt others,
then do it without shame,
for it is only because others have done the same
that any established style exists at all.

Every freckle, scar, tattoo
has it's place
It's somatic,
romantic
that something is with you until the end


n.v.

i’ve got an itching to create
more and more scars across
my wrist
thighs,
hips,
but i have to hold back because
i cannot achieve greatness by
hurting myself and loathing myself

i’ve learnt to love myself but we all
have our horrid moments at 4:52am
thinking of how it all was and how we
don’t know how it all will be.

This sickness is
The catalyst for
Either death
Or greatness