i injected caster sugar into my veins and i’m still waiting for the high to hit. i drew a smiley face on the desk at school and they called me a delinquent and i think they overreacted a bit, and they said that dreamers never go anywhere in life, but i’m writing this on the moon.

some days they are sad. sad about the weather, sad about the thing that happened last night, sad about losing their favorite book, sad about their coffee being cold, sad about the fact that they can't find matching socks. lots of things make them sad, lots of nothings make them sad too. you see, when you have a predisposition for being sad, every little thing counts.  so when you ask her why she is sad and she cannot answer, do not press further. do not go looking for a reason that just isn't there. when you ask what you can do and she says nothing, do not be hurt. do not feel useless. when she wakes in the middle of the night and she is silent, but you can feel the bed shaking as she cries, do not assume you know what she is feeling. you don't. hold her if she wants it, don't touch her if she doesn't. if you ask her if she wants you to stay and she says yes, do. but if she tells you to walk away, do not listen. stay with her, because if you don't, she might not be there in the morning .

he could never love me as much as he touches you

your tongue down his throat stabbed my spine
and your fingers in his hair tore the veins in my wrist
you smell like his cologne and i want to stick ******* down my throat
when your hands intertwine like vines on a gravestone
remember me six feet under

he took the bottle of happiness
doctors prescribed to him
in order to wipe out the demons
inside of him
and emptied the pills onto his tongue
while tasting the metallic tablets
a gulp of water raced down his throat
the pills swam through the liquid
down to the boy's stomach
and lay there like a body in a coffin

sin tastes like the back of your neck