I want lithium that tastes like
hair intertwined in chain link
on pedestrian bridges.

It'd be spit.
Your spit I swallowed
eyeing the eye of the storm

barefoot on Kombucha glass,
we both felt safe.
The bridge'd be destroyed eventually

but love's a greater monument
than cathedrals built with
taxpayer money and with

lips locked I'd have no
reason to scream
when winds break the trees

or the wind breaks me.
I'd stand my ground
magnetic banded

to the metal behind
what's in front of me
and I'll have the taste

of lavender and humidity
in my mouth instead
of my own blood.

wherever you go, there you are
in a world of silver legacy
where all you feel are
living emotions of memories
you thought were dead;
hands on the dash,
passenger seat,
their eyes are too friendly.

glass ***** that act
like warm pillows, i'm
ready to fall asleep.

no melatonin,
no split palms or slit wrists,
no fever dreams of vision loss
where i'm left a
broken nose bruised beauty.

i'll be a beauty, or something like that,
but i won't be nothing
like i've been recently.

there is something I have never talked about;
a consummation you'd **** me for,
if you found out.
lying there with bleach blonde hair,
cold ******* gaze;
He told me He loved me in the sweetest ways.

chandelier glows soft with frozen rays
as Pretty Boy gets lost inside my crystal bouquet.
I just perch there staring down at Daddy-Babe
as He whispers heavy all the ways
He'll make me pray.

waves come in and touch my toes
as I purr into his pillow and make it known
that Babydoll's not going anywhere;
His infectious affection's got me hooked like a drug,
crying softly in his neck as he groans.
I am the closest thing to Heaven He has ever known.

all the promises He makes and keeps
lead me to believe His heart is pure
and He deserves the best of me.
of all the men I've come to love,
He's the vision of God I've been waiting for.

Hey Shakespeare,
Could you write a happy ending?
I want to sit and read a book,
Where I finally feel I’m winning.

I wish I didn’t care all the time,
But here we are,
I’m wanting your hand in mine

I love being in love,
But it hurts every time
Can someone please explain
why I still try?

I should be reading right now
The stack of books in my room glares at me
Wondering if I’ll ever deign to bring them to my eyes
I hope I will
They’re due back to the library in two weeks
I’m still only in the first one
Which is, frankly, 980 pages long
But I’m only halfway through with
A person on my tumblr account
Read it and the book before it
In the week it took for me to read half of the one I have now
Not that I’m a slow reader, of course
I just have no free time
Lucky tumblr user

I should be working right now
The director’s script for a documentary I helped produced is due on Monday
That’s tomorrow
We haven’t even started it yet
When I was watching the documentary earlier yesterday
I noticed that one of the infographics
I spent many days of hard work on
That I had changed multiple times for the sake of being included in the final product
Was not there
I wasn’t even consulted
When my hard work was washed all down the drain
Not like anyone cares, though
It’s not like I’m gonna kick up a fuss
Or something
Just a little “hey, can we cut this out?
We need more space and this information isn’t really necessary anymore.”
I would have said
“Yes, of course. Anything to help.”
But that never happened
Now, there’s just work waiting to be done
That I don’t want to do

I should be with my friends right now
Not like they care about me, though
I hate to break it to myself, but they don’t really love me
Like I love them
Perhaps they see me around sometimes
But they won’t go out of their way to meet me
They’ll do it for each other, though
I’m just an interloper on what they have together
I could never hold a candle to what they share
We don’t even have classes together
Not really
I see them with each other more than they are with me
I could never have what they have
They think I’m insignificant
And they’re right
When the year is up, they’ll leave me in the dust
For each other
I’ll try not to be sad
But maybe it’ll give me the courage
To go home
Get something
And end it all

I should be writing right now
No, not this depressing *******
But actual creativity
I have a WIP
Keyword: in progress
That I’ve had for the past two years
I’m so close to finishing it
So close
But far enough away that I don’t want to try
I don’t have the energy for this
Maybe I should just give up
Nothing I make is worth anything anyway
I’ll die young and decrepit
No one will remember my name
No one will want to
Someday, someone may discover this page
A shrine to who I am
To who I will never be
I can’t wait for it to be over

I should be painting right now
Even if I’m not very good at it
Even if nothing I make is worth anything to anyone
But maybe I’ll feel better
If I’m surrounded by the things that I’ve created
Not happy because I formed something better
But because my building blocks were at least in good taste
But it’s too cold in my basement
It’s too cold in my heart
I can’t foster warmth
For I
Have none myself
My work lacks quality

I should be doing something right now
Anything to keep the depression away
To keep the sadness for nipping at my heels
To give me warmth, something to live for
To give me happiness, like a warm blanket
To give me life
To give me energy
To give me something
But I have nothing
And I am nothing
Insignificant
Worthless
I’m just trying to burn time before I start to cry
And have to know the pain of being alive
Which begs the question
Why do I stay at all?

nobody notices,
nobody notices the loss of heat,
from an insignificant candle,
on the mantlepiece

nobody notices,
nobody notices the dimming embers,
the slowly dwindling light,
of the flickering flame

nobody notices,
despite how close to the candle,
they may be
despite the fact they lit the candle themself

but still,
nobody notices,
as it slowly burns,
into

oblivion