He's like a cloud:
he looks solid, but there's really
nothing to him.

He's like a child:
ignorant and stubborn as a post.

He makes tornadoes look like walks
in the park and earthquakes seem
as intimidating as a daisy.

His outbursts of anger are as
strong as any storm- they are
enough to cause ruptures in my heart
and have the ability to split apart
my flesh with the precision of a
scalpel; and the worst part is,
they have.

A bad relationship is a lot like burning your tongue.
Food is delicious, and it's best when it's hot, of course.
You dive on in and devour it.
It only hurts a little bit, and it stills tastes good.
The next morning, with a blistered tongue, you just ask yourself;
"Ouch....was it really worth it?"

people seem to move their lips
but
nothing
ever
comes out.
well, that's not exactly true.
words escape
like dead leaves
in a windstorm
but like leaves
they
flutter
and flurry
useless things.

a pretty painted kissable lip
tempts
no one
when the words it drops like bombs
explode
killing
the life
it
envied

Words
     that constantly run through my mind and fill my vision
     I can't get enough
Canisters and bottles
     that bring me peace when I'm done dealing
His hands
     that make me shake with desire and terror
Hello Poetry
      -- now I have somewhere to put everything
Connor Jessup and Finnick Odair
     because I'm a fangirl
Pain
     and it follows me everywhere
Sunsets and starry nights
     that I can't stop drawing
Photography
     -- always
My religion and beliefs
     -- I'll never sell out

Chaotic ***** lover,
skin made of cyanide
a princess made of man.

I get anxious at silence and wait.
How can you love someone you
give so little effort too.
Minimal.
Garbage.

I don't hear whats so beautiful anymore,
so I revel in the filth that I've become.
Shitlord.
Taking time to cough out
fragments of clockwork,
carrying cracked lips that
sway in a breeze
beat on a broken ankle.

Are you somewhere lost at sea?
Are you riding on a storm?
Do you feel lonely when you
turn over and there's another
cold spot in the bed?

I don't expect much anymore.
I want to sit in muttering silence and enjoy
the quiet in my head.
[where]
You aren't real to me.

I relish the chance to yell you into something small;
a field mouse or the belly of a great monster.

Love is tearing me into ribbons,
but with care, they become banners and streamers
for a parade held in honor for a martyr
who hasn't died yet.
The reality is smeared into the genes.

Downgrade in technology.
Lost in your own eyes.
Aggravated.
Always paranoid.

Sleep in for
a couple months.

A ray of **** sunshine on the outside,
no,
I'm a total b-i-t-c-h.
Addicted to hypocrisy,
I'll shoot my veins with moronic ideals til I'm high,
high enough to think that anyone could love me if they'd just try.

Don't ******* comment on my inability to speak sometimes,
it's not something I can help.
****** before I knew what it even meant
and you're surprised I'm in such poor mental health..
Overdramatic, maybe,
a bit more responsible than most,
I'd **** to make my enemies like me.

You, you're no better than me,
your heart's been dripping with sin
since you knew how to speak.
You've had it ******, too, yeah,
so you've gotta punch my face in.
Get it beat into our heads that we're never gonna be good enough,
well,
I just wanna be good enough.

I just wanna be good enough.

The thought of seeing you again- makes my heart beat faster than it does when I'm in bed with him.