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rockywhoreor Feb 2015
I poured my heart out and exclaimed the truth, but it didn't send the message clear enough, so I guess its not worth hearing anymore
rockywhoreor Jul 2014
Your soul poured into mine like vinegar
Pure enough to see through,
But too sour to taste.

But I drank it anyway,
Downed all your
                             cigarettes,
                                                 bruises,
and.          dusty.      records.

And I knew the skies would dull
But for now, that was okay
Because you didn't
mind my
                  empty bottles,
                                             scars,
and.      unread.     books.
rockywhoreor Jul 2014
I think its funny
how we think
bees are beautiful,
but we stay away
because they sting.
             .
             .
             .
It's even funnier
how this never
crossed my mind
until after you left.
bye
rockywhoreor Feb 2015
bye
When the battle beneath us beckons me home, and my brittle bones break,
Be sure to bury me in a black blouse with blue begonias and blame those ******* bluejays for the blatantly bad things. But always be brave and believe in the betterment of beauty for there will always be blasphemy and bitterness in the blank book. But be sure to balance brains and beauty for all the earth to bleed.
rockywhoreor Oct 2014
We may have had no money
But we were fit for kings.
We used to steal from thrift stores
And sell eclectic thngs.
Sure we fought over dinner
And you occasionally roared my name.
But how was I supposed to know
It would never be the same.
You ransacked my apartment
And didn't leave a dime,
And so I called the cops
I was running out of time.
But the cops found our salvia
Hidden underneath the stairs.
I should've told them it was yours
But by then I didn't care.
I punched one in the gut
And ran as fast as I could.
I may have been a bit too rough
But I was always misunderstood.
I found an eerie park
And hid behind the gate.
I lit my last cigarette
And filled my thoughts with hate.
I thought of the time you pushed me
In a puddle of sticky mud.
Or the time you wouldn't answer my calls
And my eyes began to flood.
The time you refused to meet my sister
Because she was fat and gay
And the time you left me at a funeral
Even though I pleaded you to stay.
I'd come to terms that you were no good
So I brushed off my hands,
Stretched, and stood.
I ran through the traffic
Finally a free soul.
I discovered it wasn't my life that you stole.
But rather my boundaries is what you unchained.
My walls were bashed inward
And now they're out again.
The world is ending
Before my eyes.
And there is no one else that I want to despise.
But I can't hate you now
You set me free.
The sun is dripping and
The ground moves shakily.
Buildings crumble and children scream
Mothers think it's just a dream.
But the earth splits in half
And I hope you're okay.
As we slip into darkness
On this eventful day.
I wake up in hell
Missing you dearly I cried.
Only to find that you're
Right by my side.
rockywhoreor Sep 2014
There is no better ******* feeling than having someone forget you exist. Having someone miss your calls and ignore your texts. They turn away when you walk by. They hear you calling but look around for an escape. They forget your ******* birthday. They channel all their love for you into someone else. A stranger. You've been there for them even when they were a ***** and had no other friends. When they wanted to end their life and had no one else to talk to. When they barged into your door crying almost every night. And a ******* stranger comes into the play and I feel you slowly slipping away. You love them more. I know. Do you love me at all. If not then say so. Please. I can't take this passive agressive behavior. It's swallowing me whole.  Stop pretending to know me, you don't know ****. You don't know that im a jealous ***** and I'm not happy for you. I want you to leave them. But you seem so content. So much more hopeful than you ever were with me by your side. I hate hate hate watching you two. It hurts. There's a heaving in my chest. I'm just done. Go be happy.
rockywhoreor Sep 2014
My best friends
are half empty bottles
and kitchen floors.
#ok
rockywhoreor Jul 2014
I woke up with a splitting headache,
I may drink too much but my parents dont need to know that.
I had to forget that wretched evening and it was my only way out.
My reflection was a dissapointment,
as always.
There were no letters with my adress and no messages with my name.
I was starting to act like my father,
it was unavoidable, I know.
But a part of me had no desire in a broken future,
I had cut a sliver of daydreams,
child's play.
But this was reality I was facing.
It wasn't facing,
more like nodding in agreement.
I had no fight left in me.
Nothing to lose.  
Nothing to gain.

Im now falling asleep at my desk,
adjusting for a new day ahead.
We're all adjusting, but no one is actually comfortable.
My arms are spotted with bruises
as the bottle settles my dreary mind.
I dont know how long I can perform this act.
Re-runs aren't appreciated anyway.
So why dont you take me off the air.
Or perhaps,
just shatter me into pieces
on the blood stained
kitchen floor.
rockywhoreor Aug 2014
I am a mess. I am a ticking bomb. I am an empty broken bottle of ***** on my kitchen floor, a collection of dying stars ready to explode. I am a wallflower, an insecure bundle of fear, a shy girl who rarely talks about her feelings. I am a grey induvidual with strands of orchid ribbons frayed at the tips. A moderately pale lanky teenager whose friends are few. I am my past. A quiet girl who refused to eat, who carried razors and trinkets in her pockets, who rarely spoke but broke down and weeped constantly, who was afraid to speak out, for fear no one would listen. I am my present. A young woman who is lost in every direction, who strives to be perfect but won't actually achieve anything, who is only somewhat antisocial, who is deeply afraid to love someone, for fear they'll break her heart. I am my future. A loveless woman who has a decent career in fine arts, who goes home to her empty, stuffy apartment and nostalgically looks back at her teenage years while sitting in front of a bright screen, who secretly wakes up early on weekends to drive to her support group but gets pulled over for the ***** in her hands. I am a potential alcoholic, a misunderstood whiny teenager, an overdosed blackout, a late night trigger. I am the queen of insecurity, who sits on a throne of judgement. I am an array of colors bursting at the seams ready to bleed on the ones they loved. I am a listener who wants to comfort others but can't quite grasp the idea. I am a pair of torn lungs clogged with dafodil petals, sticky black tar, and what ifs. I am a girl crying out for mercy but my throat has been surgically removed and is replaced with quiet bruises. I. Am. A. Mess.
and I always will be.
rockywhoreor Jul 2014
The sun has come up and

I'm,


Still.


Awake......
rockywhoreor Sep 2014
Sorry I write about ***** so much. Sorry I don't smoke. Sorry i most likely have a drink in my hand if you text me late at night. (deep conversations are fueled with alcohol) Sorry if I make no sense sometimes. Sorry I can't stop. Sorry I don't warn you if you come over. Sorry I won't open up and sorry I won't shut up. Sorry that I'm confused. Sorry I'm indecisive. With everything. I am so very sorry but I can't promise anything.
rockywhoreor Aug 2014
Our heart strings are fraying

and I'm hanging on

by a thread

my dear.
rockywhoreor Jul 2014
Dont you dare tell me
to be optimistic
when you yell in my face
and bring up past mistakes
and develop a sour taste
and question my fate
and say get over this phase.
Dont you dare order me to love you, when you can't even love yourself.
rockywhoreor Jul 2014
The majority
of my existence
consists of wandering in
the crinkled creases
of my cranium,
waiting for another soul
to pass by this
shattered *******.
rockywhoreor Aug 2014
People always tell you to
get over it
but only until you experience it
do you you realize
it's not that simple.
rockywhoreor Sep 2014
Why take big bites
of birthday cakes
when you can have
lonely nights
and big mistakes.

— The End —