ink flows out of my brain
through my blood vessels
to my soft fingertips.
my hands curl into fists
as I crumple a sheet of paper.
a corner lightly cuts my finger,
and the ink flows onto the page.

If I'll read a book
and its pages could talk
I would be thankful
for all they did
was to take me to a paradise
I've never been before;
And if pages could talk
would they beg for me
to go back and read from the beginning
when I'm almost at the end?
Because I think they knew
the feeling of being lonely, ignored
and being hugged by the dust
and wait for a small chance
for them to be flipped again...

If swords, in fun,
Go on the run,
We’ll no doubt find
There’s only one.

And rip, it must,
In adult lust,
The tender youth,
With poisoned rust.

And youth returns:
The friction burns
- The bag of bones -
No age concerns.

And both alone
- The sock of bone,
The sated man -
The broken home.

If swords, in fun,
Go on the run,
We’ll no doubt find
There’s only one.

https://rave.dj/u/SadBoyShit

When clusters of anxieties roam inside me i try to read the blank last page of my life.

I’ll still love you long after
we’re gone.
When we’re just two names forgotten
with time.
Yours will stay wherever mine goes.
Wherever that is.
I’ll find you again.

***** fingernails
and cheap wine.
Fleetwood Mac and chicken tenders.
Snapping you little flirty faces
saying how much I’d like to make out.
Feels like we’re a couple of teenagers drunk in like.

Just a silly girl who can’t wait to see you
and pretend you don’t know what I look like
in the dark.