I wish I had a time machine to go back and kick my own ***.
Or at least try to talk some sense into myself.
"Listen kid, this **** doesn't bode well. You're burning alive and headed for hell."
Maybe writing is its own kind of time travel.
Billy Pilgrim knows what I'm talking about.
"Chin up child. Stop playing wild. I know you're trying to make your own style,
but you'll lose more than you'll gain."
But before I step in and turn the dial, my future self comes back to slap my hand.
"Let it be," I'll say to me.
One day you'll understand.

She skinned her knees crawling through her emotions
She opened her veins on paper and let the thick blood come trickling out
Her heart is made of glass and if you touch it light enough it will break into two, releasing a new beat
She lost her sight in love
She carved words on her chest as if without them she couldn't rest
She scratched words on her throat and clawed them on her tongue like they were her new oxygen supply.

She is a poem who I'm glad lived.

hold up a second,
My mind is stuck on one thought,
And it has been the last week
But i don't feel like writing about it,
*I would write for days.

I have an obsession with depression
When the sun makes summer days everlasting
and I'm left grasping at melancholy ideas
my mind slips back into it's natural state
self-hate will forever govern my fate
and I'm tired of living like it's all okay
and that I'm supposed to live a certain way
I'm over the monotony and hopeless love
that can't be found because constantly flirting and
never getting anywhere is doing nothing but hurting my
already shattered heart while the dreams that I once had
that people convinced me were bad have all been beaten down to more realistic goals based off of what I've always been told.
When I stop doing what is expected of me
that's when I can finally see
my true self gasping for air in the pit of my stomach where
I pushed it so long ago;

clawing to get out.

I think about you every single day still.

even though it's been over a year since my heart was ripped out, I still wish it would be you to stitch it back together.

I don't want some guy who's name I don't even know stitching it back together after I've drank so much my head spins, but that's normally how it goes.

a new boy told me he liked me today and since he smelled like you I almost kissed him.

but if I would have kissed him, his lips wouldn't mold to mine like yours so willingly did.

sometimes I can swear I can still feel your fingertips tracing my thighs.

my fingers still aren't very sure how to grasp things because they still want it to be you I'm grasping, not the toilet bowl I'm throwing up into after a night of drowning my sorrows in *****.

my thoughts still echo your name, but  I can't tell whether it's from me missing you so dearly, or from me wanting to strangle you for cracking me in half.

I think about how we knocked the pictures off the wall when I pushed you into it with lust, and then we laughed so hard that we ruined the moment so beautifully.

sometimes I think I can hear your voice in the blanket you gave me after I told you I couldn't sleep without your arms around me, which then causes me to start weeping and shout your name into it which somehow still smells like you.

I've washed my hair over 300 times, but I still can't seem to get it to go back to the way it was so now it's still as tangly as it was that Saturday morning, and still smells like your pillow and cologne.

the butterflies in my stomach turn into piranhas whenever I see you, and they rip apart my insides and it leaves me bleeding for days.

I still think about that one time when I woke you up at 2 am when I called you sobbing, and you picked me up and we drove for three hours because you thought I'd rip my veins out even though I'd been so good for so long.

my dad asked me if I wanted him to paint over the writing on my wall from when we'd been together for a year and you wrote that you'd love me forever, but I told him no because it's all I really have left of you anymore.

you grew daisies in my heart and watered them with your kisses and love, but now there's just dust left from the tornado that ran across my insides the night you left me.

I remember when you told me it was over and I collapsed on the sidewalk where we had out first kiss, and I screamed at the moon swearing I was going to die that night.

I told myself I was going to close my heart and close the box of butterflies so my love for you would die.

I closed it. there is no more heart. and there are no more butterflies.

I watch as I always do,
you, running your brush
routinely through your hair.
"you're gonna hate me when I leave.."
Loose hairs falling to the floor..

You laugh, as you always do
I feel your smile against my lips..
"you're gonna hate me when I leave.."
she pulls loose hair from between our mouths.

I watch, as I hate to,
you sitting cross-legged, packing your suitcase.
"****, another one..you're gonna hate me when I leave"
A single loose hair falls;
and disappears, like she did.

Loose hair on a pillow that was hers
and I hate that she left.

You are as cruel as
Joan Rivers on Fashion Police,
with a tongue like a blade,
meant to carve the truth,
straight out of my skin,
you're also taking the,
ambition out of my veins.
If my feelings were a person,
they'd walk away to,
avoid further damage,
and I'm ready to start calling you medusa,
because with every word,
another part of my heart,
is broken and turned to stone.
Your point is as far fetched,
as a puppy's chew toy,
gone with a strong wind,
and I'm the only one running after it,
in seek of bringing it back,
to throw in your face,

when you start to feel regret.

"But I will soon forget the color of your eyes,
and you'll forget mine"
I'm Low On Gas And You Need A Jacket -Pierce The Veil

Sun burns red,
as my eyes open for the night,
a night dweller I have become,
out to clubs to **** **** up,
dancing on tables in high class societies,
as the stench of liquor radiates off my entire body,

Live while we're young, thats the idea,
but you've taken this to the extremes,

No back up plans, just live for tonight,
theres nothing left to live for anyway,
so lets go in style,
theres  a million ways to die,
lets be remembered,