her and i exist silently trapped in a cold room
absorbing apathy from our glasses, slowly with caution.
afraid to touch, afraid to feel.
i'll play my role, just give me the script.
adjusting to the numbness of shadows.
i have tombstones growing in my chest.
im a burning lake surrounded
by witches and demons warming themselves up, while smoking cannibas and dmt conversing about nebula rings and time traveling.
mom walks in my room*
mom: im so ******* disappointed
mom: you ******* *******!
me: ( slits wrists, over doses and
listens to kid cudi. )
mom & everyone hates
me now, and all i do is
sit in the corner of
my lightless, cold, brutal
mind and carve images of
words that mad me cry all
over these arms.