Run from me.
Did you run from me?
No baby runs faster into my arms, i'll cause you no harm.
I can softly soothe my icelace fingers into the sockets of your eyes, my hands may shake but it's only from love as I move your veiny white eyes to my palms, let them melt like your voice let them drip like your bottom half on my ***.
And now you just can't look away, i'll stare into your eyes forevermore, forevermore.
Oh darling, you're trying so hard to get away, Its so ******* cute that you cant tell that i'll make you stay.
My lips on your lips, my teeth bite your tongue, harder harder hurting hurting, copper ink spills through our kiss, and your tongue dripps so lonely from your cold purple lips.
You have my heart so i can take you apart until you give me yours.
Brush your hair with my fingers, dear you'll stay with me forever.
Your soft large thighs, so easy to cut, fingernails, fingernails, fingernails in the ruts. Pull the muscle, bone and flesh apart, make art my lovely canvas. Now i can taste what you really are, my beautiful work of art. we fill your legs with our wedding cake, oh baby aren't we so cute?
Can't run from me now, your mine and you love me but you don't say it enough so I bit off your tongue.
And Im Here smoking cigarettes yet still i want a kiss, burns at the back of your mouth.
Every strand of hair burns just like candle wick, your skin, it cracks moaning like a house full of poisen.
You only moan when I hurt you, but hey, it's sexyer this way aint it?

and maybe one day
someone will see the broken pieces i’ve
managed to glue back into
a heart and they
will admire the stained glass

brush over the unfinished bits and
call me a work of art

Seemed as if we were both reading the same book.
I knew one of us would outpace the other.
..Most likely it would be me.
I guess I am too eager to see what unfolds on the next few pages.

But for whatever reason, and with no warning, you put your book down.
The rest of the pages in my book become empty.
Flipping back and forth doesn't help.
As soon as the pages start to tear I realize I have to put mine down now.

This isn't the first story I've found where the words just disappear.
No happy ending.
No ending at all..
Just another unfinished adventure...

books—
filled with bookmarks,
always line the shelves
of a dusty house...

It still hurts to see you
My heart crumbles when you appear
It's of utmost pessimum to need you
Wishing desperately to avoid the austere

But sometimes I catch myself pretending
Acting like we're not worlds apart
My well of hope seems never ending
Oh, if only we could restart

I would have done things differently
But there's no going back now
I'm trapped in this emotional debris
I want out, but I can't see how

We are stuck here in this void
In the space between dusk and dawn
Where all that was has been destroyed
Yet there's little chance of moving on

There's something left unfinished
A remnant of a promise of a dream
And though that future was diminished
I hold pieces of you in high esteem

I cannot let those pieces go
I cannot let them fade
Though they still hurt me so
I'm grateful a part of you has stayed

So here we are trapped inside
The space between dusk and dawn
This is the only place "us" can reside
I'll be here until the day it's gone..

Some stories are meant to be unfinished
Its not that I want this but;
It's better left untouched

It is not that of getting lost in the spirals of the wall, those patterns and faces, making shapes from basic dots and strange angles in places.
Imagination straining.
This is dissociation, it is no joke of wow that fan looks nice
But I really just lost my sense of self in this life.
The surrounding surfaces were not real even with my hands on it’s surface
Was this fire really burning, those candles melting?
All I see is glass burning, charred over black ash.
Tell me dear
Do you stand in doorways feeling dizzy because the reality is crumbling and that sense of smell does nothing
It lingers with this annoying sweetness
Yet the candles keep these levels grounded
It is looking in the mirror and not being able to recognize who is seen
Is that me breathing? Am I touching the sink, is my face so strange to look this way.
Some days feel normal and others I have no sense of taste
Imagine those sweet desserts no longer having flavor
We will cry at this frightened state, the world does no favors.
But here we are also aware that this is real despite how it feels, maybe I am magic
Sage my beloved hated name.
Who are you? Why don't you ask the world the same.

you can feel the love in his fingertips when he touches you
when his lips press against your skin
he never has to say it
he doesn't need to