i licked my lips and sat there while the pastor preached the word of god, but i was too busy staring at the boy sitting next to me with his arms crossed. he was five years older than me, but i was a lifetime better than him. at least that’s what i think.

he had a pearly white smile and his heart on his sleeve, his irises didn’t look away as i caught him staring. he always liked to observe, and i happened to be the one who his eyes loved to prey upon.

his name was like toxins, decaying on my tongue, but i loved saying it anyway. he listened to dubstep and said that was his favorite kind of music while i loved the head banging rock music. we were so different but that meant our love was one of a kind.

but he felt like splinters in my fingers; the ones you ripped off harshly and watched the blood prickle up while you felt the sting. call me a *******, but i loved every second of it.

eyes are windows to the soul, and if i ever saw his eyes again

i would rip them out of their sockets and keep them as my own.

you were scabbed with the bitter breath and air of december's tragedy, and perhaps it's truly better than it sounds but i can never tell. i never lived my life in violent indigos.

the sun seeps through your window in such a way your dark night eyes look like a desirable honey that drips from a bee's hive

your lips are pulled tight because your tongue is filled with secrets that are ready to spill out in the open like cream pouring into coffee. 

you never tell me about the foreign chapped lips against your skin, but i remember they made you feel what i couldn't give you.

you cut my heart out with a butter knife because your tongue isn't as sharp as you would like it to be. you place it on a silver platter and say bon appetit!

i hope for you my darling, my heart tastes like asphalt and red wine, because that's what's fit for dying gods.

i don't need your help. my hands are not the ones covered in crimson. yes, they're shaking, but that's because you jabbed the knife in my guts repeatedly until i could no longer process my thoughts and all i can feel was the numbing pain. it didn't hurt, only when you pierced the flesh again and again, but it didn't hurt. you threw my phone across the room and i'm on the other side, i can't call an ambulance and my blood is soaking my shirt and carpet.

all i can hear is you saying that i'm in the wrong and that i'm the one with the knife.

ouch! that hurts, your fingernails are digging in my temples and you're trying to scream hateful verses in my ears as if they were prayers. and before i knew it, i bled out on the living room floor.

yank on my spinal cord before you rip it out of my bare back. before you get my ***** crimson blood on your hands and you have to wash and bleach your dna off the crime scene.

it feels as if i'm paralyzed from the waist down because all i ever ******* do is lay around, and if i move, it aches. everything aches.

i'm begging for you to swap some bones with me because i'm tired of this soreness on my hips and thighs. please tell me you're listening.

nobody ever ******* listens to me. am i on mute? does someone have the remote controller that is connected to my mouth and has it on the lowest volume? how do i get it back and turn it up?

the static in my ears is far too loud, i bet if you said something right now, i wouldn't hear a thing. wait— did you say something?

i'm in love with a boy whom i've decided to call apollo because ****, he's a modern tragedy. he's enchanting and extraordinary, i'm nothing compared to this god in human skin.

i'm nothing but delusional intoxication and hair dye, but i guess if there was something good about me, it would have to be that i love unconditionally.

i can only imagine what it would be like to be in the hands of a god.
maybe the closest i'll ever get to heaven is when i'm standing next to you in front of a coffee shop and we're about to have an hour long conversation about the meanings of the world and what we plan to do with our lives. and if i'm being honest with you, (i'm never honest) i'm scared of the future. i'm scared of what happens next.

you said let the rest come easy, but easy for you to say, you have something going for you. you're the human embodiment of success, the embodiment of euphoric nature that i crave to feel.

i wonder what it's like to be touched by a god
can your finger tips graze my shoulders until they run down to my hips? can you touch me all over because i want to feel holy.
i've been feeling sick ever since i found out you exist.

i tried telling my best friend at the time that i was hurting and my heart was ready to explode, it felt as if my lungs were giving up and i knew i was going to slit my wrists in the bathtub sooner or later with my clothes still on.

he laughed in my face and told me there was nothing wrong with me. i stood there in silence, trying to accept that my own best friend didn't believe me when i said i was falling apart. i cried myself to sleep that night and woke up in my own saliva, it was disgusting.

my best friend told me he loved me to death and would do anything to protect me. he tried kissing me one night and things haven't been the same since. he makes me want to wrap myself up in barbed wire and drop myself off a high cliff, falling hard onto the ground.
but if i tell him that
he'll say
i'm
just
fine.

i wish i was normal.
i wish the chemical imbalance in my brain didn't control every move and thought that i make. it seems as if my disorders are written across my forehead and my colored hair is a sign of my illness. but last time i checked, i thought if i dyed my hair, the chemicals in the dye would seep into my brain and give me a spare of serotonin.

i mean, it works. for a few days at least. then i'm back wishing i was dead and praying for a solution. i never ******* pray unless it's for my own benefit. i should probably find my peace because i thought i had it.

i told myself i wasn't going to write this because i didn't want anyone thinking i'm a lost cause. but maybe i am. maybe there is no hope for me. i'm happy, genuinely happy, don't get me wrong, but i'm numb too. undeniably numb.

i don't care about what people say, i don't care about their feelings. i don't care.

i may be a water sign
but ****
i feel like fire.