I'm blocked again
Why does this keep happening man
Please tell me it's just cause your drunk
I've had enough
This back and forth
It really hurts
I need to read your writing
I need to see your words
My stomach hurt.

DCgirl 22h

please stand watching
please don't stop
please just go
please let



Someone pour me a drink
You finally made me think
About the choices I've been making
The distances we've been requiring
I'll fucking miss you
Trust me I already do
But you go do you
Since you already do
Do you care what I think?
Do you care how I feel?
You won't hangout
But you'll let me drive you around
Let's get stoned
Have our memory be a good one
I don't want to drive you
Just to be left in the dust
But I'll drive you anyways
Because that's what caring does

Let's hangout rather than just 20 minute drives.

Those who know me, have read the words I've written in black ink and can physically see me
Have told me
Though my writing is depressing
And my suicidal thoughts obsessing
Have mentioned that glimmer of hope that hides behind my demons screeching inside
I feel like Pandora at times
While darkness reigns the depths of my mind,
There's Hope
Trapped within.
I'm letting go of that hope.
There's nothing for me,
No future,
No dreams,
No possibilities,
Absolutely Nothing.
Because I'm nothing and the only thing that will fulfill me is the fact that one day I'll stop breathing.

Sad and boujee

I feel wasted
I feel confused
I feel completely used
Let's do this
Wait nevermind
Everything will be fine
My heart is torn
It's worn
What's off?
What's wrong?
Did I say something to strong?
It hurts
I'm hiding
But hey
Less fighting
The words I write
Are words from the heart
They may sound angry
But damn it's art
I'm fucking in love with you
I'll never deny
But god
It's hurts to cry.

Pure emotion
Aurora 2d

I do understand myself.
I understand every scream, every tear, every war, every dream.
But myself doesn't understand me.

When you left,
I didn't think it would hurt this much.
I never said goodbye,
which hurts me the most.
I had so much to say,
but I never got the chance.

I had this feeling in my gut,
I missed you so much.
I missed our conversations.
I missed our hugs.
I missed your laugh.
I missed your teasing me.
I missed you.
But it was more than that.
I had this feeling that you were meant to be mine.
Is that even possible?
Is "meant to be" even achievable?

My heart aches for you,
but as an amazing friend?
or more?

And darling it  aches
Hold me close when this feels like a mistake
Reread the books in hopes to grasp different meanings
Broke the double line to collide with you
This course it is designed for one at a time
Yes we are trying to be aligned
God knows why
We do
Know why
I read

Through the time we hope wil last
Yet memories are ephemeral so are ours
Our loves
Correct me
Correct me
My path
My love
wind has blown

We fight only to be in that moment of love
Babe 4d

Is he scared of me?
I'm scared of me.

I have a tongue of acid,
Heart of glass,
Cut like a knife,
Fragile as ash.
All of the wonder of Midsummer's walks,
All of the nightmare of 'what are we?' talks.
Complex as the cosmos,
Bright as a bean,
Sometimes I am someone
You wish you'd never seen.

So, is he scared of me?
Why do you ask?
There must be much scarier
Under his mask.

Oh I wish I knew.
Josh 4d

Although on page two hundred and twenty
it must come to end,
for two hundred and nineteen and a half pages,
I found on this tree-pâté
(I don't know where ink comes from)
a friend.

Patrick for all his lonely sorrows
has taken me, sat me down in a blanket, and hidden me from the real world.
From touchable, grabbable joy
From the cold touch of a dead memory
From the contorted warmth of a lover about to take a journey.
From the satisfaction of a day job
From the numbing repetition of a day job
From anything tangible I hide,
and while away awhile.


Page to page different circumstantial photographs,
beautifully, hauntingly captured, some of them,
all in his warm tongue and keen hand.

I wonder if I know these things he speaks of.
I am so close to them
I can see them
I'm in my blanket
My tongue in my mouth
My hands on his pages
My ears greedily lapping up his nutrition (too quickly to taste)
and my mouth is dry.

Not a callous touches my skin.
Not a memory picks up a pencil.
Not a lover contorts my limbs, my neck, ruffles my hair.
I can ruin my own hair.
I can stand up and see through my eyes as well as his
I might feel tangible
And I'll write a poem about it

Quite free, quite confused
That's the way to be
You can't win or lose
That's the way for me
Next page