I really do
Everything you do
will always turn me blue
you flutter your eyes at me
and regress to your lies
while all I see from here
is drugs, ***, and lies.

I hate you
I really do
but you plague my thoughts so
in love with the idea of you
never works out so
I'll take this **** feeling
bury it inside
and leave nothing left of it as all my hope dies.

I hate you
but it's not actually true
how can I hate what gives me strength
and pushes me straight through
you keep me up at night
while you sleep quietly
and nothing remains, silence drains
as I die violently.

But it never really mattered at all, I guess.

and another
and another


no pain left to bear.
As I sit here,
and while you leave,

Painfully unaware.

I am solemn.
It is quiet.
No signs of life or any noise floods my senses.
Deep, dark silence.

A light flickers on from the corner of the room,
a door slowly creaks open
or so it seems to be
it motions to be, as I beckon it's call.

Walking towards the door,
dread floods my heart.

My blood is on the floor,
as screams tear flesh apart.

No love, No joy, No peace
Nothing I've seen has shown such violence
and now, with no flowers nor bees,
Just deep, dark silence.

so

ul
cr
ie

s)


ol


itude

quietly reserved, these 31 days back away
from the fray of the other 343
each with their own characteristics,
and mine being much more introverted
A frigid 31 days
A warm 31 days
A frigid but warm time
We go through it and take it for granted
But those 31 days
never go away
as they stay the same for me
I find my way
In 31 days
as my love awaits me
I find a day
of those 31 days
to treasure and cherish the most
the 21st day
most important to me
will always bring me back home.

My hands across your chest.
Down your stomach.
Grazing your every inch.

Listing off the things I love about you in my head:
Your smile, Your laugh, Your words, Your ,
                                    
                          ­                   [(stop)]

But it’s okay.

You've found another.

And they will never stay,
But my need for you will remain.

Just maybe, one day, this will definitely go away.

As life and death while neither truly works

a fear of death and a fear of life fuels my flame

the things I do don’t particularly interest me anymore

I feel like I’m slipping away.

Silenced colors will eventually fade.

If I were to not fear death, would I be able to live?

If I were to not fear life, would I be able to die?

Neither living or dying

mere existing

what existence is this?

to dream of colors that don’t exist

is to say to not dream at all.

But colors that don’t exist envelop us in comfort

and worry falls to all.