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Autmn T May 2019
And the people who are extensions of you breathe monoxide and speak with the sound of shrewd drills. I can't help but hear your voice through their wreckage.
“When you have to make a choice and don't make it, that is in itself a choice.” -William James
franny Sep 2017
i hate you,
i hate the way that you beat me when i come home late
i hate the way you yell at me when your wrong
i hate that you are always mad
i hate that you think you are superior to me
but i love you,
i love that you love me
i love that you gave me life
i love that you support me in everything i do
i love that you would give anything for me to be happy
but despite all of this love and hate,
i can't be your favorite daughter
i can't pretend to love you when at times i can't like you
i can't support you anymore
and most of all
i can't continue to live with your suffocating, pestering, raw, unperceptive demenor.
i'm sorry
Amanda May 2017
they will try to tell you I tried to **** myself.

I swear, it wasn't that.

It's just that the weeds were growing through my ribs and down my back and into my lungs, and no one likes weeds.

so I tried to drink **** killer.

instead it just burnt my throat and made my skin feel like sandpaper

it ripped out my taste buds and numbed the bridge of my nose

and it didn't even get rid of the ******* weeds.
Chalsey Wilder Nov 2015
"Go ahead be a snitch
You'll get more than one stitch
This time, *****."
._. My aggressive side.
Austin Heath Jun 2014
Fireworks that spray paint
brain matter and bits of tongue
like obscenities in a bathroom stall.
Spray paint everything yellow.
Own everything. Burn everything.
**** everything. Invade it;
infect it, vivisect your name
as an iron-on patch into it's guts.
Stitch it in close to something necessary.
A little bit of everything dies.
Anything that can be possessed,
umbrella of oppressions.
Prancing.
You'd make me cry just to see if it's possible.
You'd push me off the edge to see how close I am.
You'd push me off the edge to see how fast I fall.
You'd step on my fingers to see if they bleed.
You'd stomp in my teeth to see if they crack.
You'd spit on the corpse to see if it hydrates.
Cartwheeling.
Anything abrasive, anything slightly toxic,
something disgusting to indulge in.
**** the gardens, **** the rivers and lakes;
Died in a boar's den,
died in the stomach of a volcano,
gave it three days and decided
death suits one just fine.
Pieces
of
dishes
stuck between your toes.
A rainbow in violent undertones,
the ROYGBIV of slashing motions.
Tax exempt.
Cartwheeling.
A little bit of everything dies.

— The End —