you never told me the truth you never told me that i was toxic to the touch you never said that every time you ran your hand through my hair it tangled your mind up until all you could think was static
the kind of static that hums,
you could call it beautiful,
but only if you're ******* crazy
--
i think i'd like plants on my bedstand because then when i'm sleeping, maybe my mind will travel into the flowers maybe my thoughts will grow into something worth writing down