and i don't even know if i want to kiss your lips or just your skin
because i'm
     falling
       falling
         falling
           falling
         falling
       falling
     falling
but i don't want to hit the ground again.
are you sure your arms can hold the weight of my love when it's wrapped in wet clothes?
and are you sure it's the best idea to take this where the wind goes?
i'm not yet sure if love is a real thing
it's just a
   beautiful
  fictional
deadly
play,
and you still kiss me like i'm sane
but i know it's all just another game
so don't be surprised if i refuse to participate.
and you're like a
         cynical
           patronizing
             inconsiderate
           impartial
         callous
song,
but your vicious words still gently drag me along.
and i'm not sure if you're really toxic
or it's just all in my head.
because
i love you
love you
ove you
ve you
e you
you
ou
u
or maybe i love when you're in my bed.

heart shaped kisses
really miss my mistress.
drowning in a sea of loneliness i call my home
might be better than sitting on a plastic throne.
but if she's here too then that's perfect for me
because she's one of a kind- extraordinary.
i imagine she kisses like a rattlesnake
addicting and deadly but i don't think she's the type to compensate.
i'd never make her do such a thing
only mostly for the fear that she’d never act the same.
because when she hangs over my hips tighter than my belt
i get the most intense feelings i've ever felt.
i’m starting to think she’s engraved in my bones
and if she leaves i’ll have to go with her because i have to go wherever my collagen goes.
i imagine she cries the way stars fall from the sky
beautifully and mesmerizing when they speed down her chin and make you want to die die die.
she tends to bring the end to make the beginning more livid
god i love her
heart shaped kisses
i just really really really miss my mistress.

being gay won’t save me from touches i didn’t ask for,
because that’s what they are,
touches i didn’t ask for.
and you still punch me lightly in the arm,
like we’re fooling around, like you didn’t do anything wrong.
but i don’t like it like that,
i never have.
it feels so much worse when it’s forced,
or even when they're simple touches that the eye can barely see,
the alarms fire through my body at different speeds,
it’s absolutely riveting.
i'm learning the difference between want and need,
and i think when it all comes down to it,
you never even wanted me.
my eyes are up here,
not scattered in the crevices folded in my skin,
my eyes are up here,
but you don't care because you're wearing my favorite lopsided grin.
i believe in individuals having a right to their own consent,
and no offense, but you're not my romeo and i'm not your juliet.
liking the same *** won't save you from touches you didn't ask for,
because that's what they were,
touches you didn't ask for.

There was this young girl,
beautiful to the eye.
everyone loved her but they didnt know why.
Her eye were gray,
dull but bright,
sad but happy
she never knew why.
But then there came this evil conniving narcissistic monster
who stole her beautiful and kept it as his own.
He did not care nor did he love
but then broke and loved himself
because the soul he stole
from that beautiful girl loved him and no one eles
she said his eyes distracted her as they pull her in,
as if she was a magnet
she could no longer speak
an innocent body of a beautiful girl
layed on the cold wet floor
the rain it washed the blood away
now she is living within him going insane