Ghost Boy, Ghost Boy.
I call him that because there's absolutely no way he's human.
He wore all black.
He looked me in the eye once, and at the tip of his shoes the rest of the time. My soul was up for grabs. I don't think he was interested.
Ghost boy, Ghost boy.
Walking in harmony with my heartbeat.
I think of your pierced ears and vinyl eyes.
Composed. How do you do that?
I was your opposite, Ghost boy.
Ying to yang.
I wore all white and couldn't hear your heartbeat.
I was too occupied with my thoughts.
Maybe he'll get tired of me or maybe i'm wearing to much perfume.
I looked at the stars and we didn't talk.
Ghost boy, Ghost boy, my soul was up for grabs that night,
but my heart and my brain were too loud and too heavy.

maybe i don't have enough plants
maybe my music isn't loud enough

i'm so in my head and out of it both at the same time i don't know whether i'm imploding or exploding

i'm on a
very dangerous mission
to **** all of the
remaining butterflies
fluttering around my
ribs and
never
love
again

Depression really is a monster. But not the cliche big muscle-y green guys who beat you up. It's more like stardust. Depression is a stardust ghost and you can't ever see him coming. Not until he's got you. He hugs you from behind. He's that kind of guy. He just suffocates you in his stardust.

you may have decided
a while ago -
while sitting at home
on a friday night
starring at your
smoke-stained
ceiling -
that you're just
another bundle of bones
and that you'll
just carry on
disappointing people
until the day
the death does you well-
because nobody cares anyway.
but i'm sitting here
listening to your
fake nervous laughter
as if it were a
symphony
and i couldn't
care
more.

stop stealing all the oxygen from my lungs-
stop occupying all the space in my brain.




the worst part- i'm just a silhouette in your eyes - another face in the crowd.




i wish i could slap a nicotine patch on my neck and end the torment
i wish i knew how to quit you