I hate the mask I wear
Behind my paper lines,
I hate the mask I wear
And all my un-rhymed rhymes.
I hate the fact that I'm some ghost
Who bleeds black ink onto my white host!
I hate the fact that I harbor my words
To the ships out at sea that all go unheard!
I hate the fact that I am a mess
And all I have left are these words of distress!

I hate that I try to make my self depressed
In order to write a poem that will truly impress!
I hate that I have to sit here everyday
Trying to write my problems away
Only to find
That behind the smeared lines
That I still am battling with my old demons!
That I still am battling with doubt!
Oh I hardly take time to care about the seasons
I just care about the problems I have going on now.

-And even at my best I'm just someone who can't write
And all my poems are a mask for my bloodiest fights
But tonight
I hope someone turns on the lights
And finds my dead corpse rotting off to the side,
I hope that for once it will all be fine
And my heart will stop beating before I start losing my mind-

Add
Add
Add
my
Addictions.
dictions (diction's) lost
my addiction's dictions (diction's) lost conviction
excuse that last part, it was intrinsically self-involved
because advertisements
tell me to want.
everything.

Add
Add
Add
all my addictions
then divide by whats left.

Chandler says you can't divide by nothing.

I spend
hours
listening to
music
that no one
else likes.
I draw on myself:
my arms,my clothes are
covered in pen

When I younger,
I would eat the
junk food
my grandma gave me
when driving me home
from school.
I lied to my parents
about eating the food;
"No,Mom,
no,Dad,
I didn't eat
what Grandma gave
me."
I always lied to my parents
but they found out anyway
and they never believed me
again.

My sweetest addiction
is lies,
sugary fantasies
that never fill you up
The gluttony just makes you hungrier
for the
truth.
Today I am
an honest person,
but I still crave lies.

But
if I crave lies,
why do I also
want the
truth?

myaddiction

I'm addicted to love.
And
I'm addicted to blond hair.
And
the color blue.
and
I'm addicted to the smell of smoke.
And
I'm addicted to the way I feel around you.
And
I'm addicted to green eyes.
And
Im addicted to sunshine.
And
warmth.
I'm addicted to sadness.
And
I'm addicted to hiding.

But most of all.

*I'm addicted to being alone.

When I was young
I was addicted to my thumb
So older and still
The child in me beat at its walls

Till I threw him away

I was addicted to tears
Sloshing from my eyes
Like the sight of overflowing
Into my family

Until I threw them away

I was addicted
To doing the wrong
To challenge the right in my life
It eventually won

Until I threw it away

And then, in a burning fever
I knew I was too light
Thrown too free
Of all the human chains to each other

Until I picked them up again

So, the long and short
The nutshell
Throwing away sorrows and accepting
Them back, what's my addiction?

I am addicted to playing fetch with myself

I am addicted to rain, to the sunset, to the sound of water over rocks.

To the crackling of the fire, to the breeze on my cheeks. To the feeling of someone else's fingers running through my hair.

I am addicted to the way he smiled, to the way she kissed, to the feeling of my fingers laced with someone else's.

I am addicted to the quiet pain in my heart, to obsessing over my fears, to apologizing for things beyond my control.

I am addicted to this boy who has eyes like the sky, to this boy who makes my heart jump into my throat and my cheeks burn and my legs go numb and who makes it hard to breath. I am addicted to this boy who doesn't really know who I am, who just knows who I want him to know, who has a smile like perfection and probably doesn't even know it.

I am addicted to writing. About my heart, about my dreams, about my sins and agonies. About how other people view me and how I view other people and how I view myself.

I am addicted to cuddling, to thick blankets and fluffy pillows, to lazy mornings.

I am addicted to wishing I could share all the things I love most with that boy, the one who I wish I could look at all day.

I am addicted to turning things into him without ever intending to.

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