recently i’ve been struggling to write,
the words just seem lost
on a canvas too large.
the ink just scars the page
and tears shreds into the book.
the ink blotches stain my skin
and i’m left scrubbing at the words i can no longer feel
it’s hard to write when there’s a hole inside me far too deep to fill
it’s hard to write when no one can hear what i’m saying
but most of all it’s hard because it’s honest
and being honest about who i am and what i want
is something i’m not quite sure how to do yet.
In the evening my love is being sold,
and in the morning it will be gone,
but the bile in my throat,
and the chill in my bones
All the streets look the same,
when you do what I do,
when all you are is meat for men to chew up and spit out,
all for a couple of quid.
I have no shame,
but the shame is all mine.
Sometimes I question if this is all real,
because how can anything hurt so much?
How could I feel so numb too?
Maybe it's easier to believe it's real,
that there's a point to our suffering.
We constantly fear being insignificant in a infinite world,
but I believe we are much more powerful than we could ever know.
I wish that I told you I loved you,
I wish I told you how beautiful you were,
and how youre smile created whole new worlds,
I wish I told you that you saved my life,
I wish I could've saved yours,
I wish love were enough because you would've lived forever,
I am forever wishing for more time with you,
so I could call you mine,
press pause on life and never leave the bubble we created.
i remember the first time i injected it,
i swore my veins turned neon,
suddenly i was seeing ultraviolet,
my body melted into the earth,
the soil became my bones,
the whole world spun and glowed,
and i knew nothing would ever feel this good again,
and now when i inject it,
all i get is relief,
that i finally found something to stop my cold sweats,
my shaking hands,
my racing mind,
the world just seems prettier with neon in my veins.
the world is easier to deal with when my veins are glowing.
I feel like you’re always behind me,
whispering down my neck,
crawling into my spine,
digging through my flesh.
How am I supposed to get rid of you,
when you’ve become part of me?
And when i saw you again,
my blood ran cold,
and I haven’t felt warmth since.