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fractured bonesI wish I could be beautiful instead of this fucked up mess that was left on the floor, no wait, left on the bed, only seconds before I was all taken care of. But hey, that's life, right?
It'll be a Monday morning when I wake up. Because Mondays are the days we have breaks without knowing it and the beginning of every thing. Mondays cause a lot of pain and betrayal, leaving fingerprints on popped wrists and broken eyelashes. The candles, they sway and then burn out leaving a hole in my stubborn wrist.
I'm beginning to hate this wristband.
I don't think I know what exactly is going on here. Laughter took the place of every aching bone in my body but I forgot that the musical sound only leaves me shaking in this place, which is a lot like shivering cept I'm burning in my own two charcoal converse. The ones that have the wear and tear and have writing across their walls, singing 'I miss you', 'I love you', and goodbyes that weren't rea
education is for foolsListen to someone else for a change. Stop being so selfish. So they pulled the cord too soon and we're making way for a crash landing, but how many times do I have to tell you to stop worrying about what's gonna happen later, and start thinking about right now? Maybe you'll land with your face in the dirt or maybe you'll land, arms out, feet first, and headstrong like all the rest. If you keep trying to fix what isn't broken, you're going to end up with more bruises than you bargained.
Well hey, you've always looked pretty with scars. Pay attention here though.
Sometimes we don't always need constant reminders of who we are. Because we change each day, and I know I'm just shoving fucked up words to make you feel alive that you won't even remember tomorrow morning, but hear me out for just one second. Your body is breaking down and you're just drowning in your own attempt to breathe. Calm down. You've got one more month to go.
Did you ever think that maybe he is suffering too? Not every
And bleed, and we're doneI stared for much too long at the familiar face, but it seems that a name wouldn't appear in my head. I mean, I'd known you forever. I could feel it. But nothing in my mind would trigger where I knew you from. And you,
you just kept walking.
I can't decide where the changes are really putting me. I'm not falling anymore, that's for sure, and I'm not beating numbly against the floorboards. But I can't make the important decision of whether this is leaving me high and dry (or if I'm just kidding myself in saying this is right).
holding onto barbwireI'll give you something to scream about.
She was, uncertainly falling over rubbage and the dirt that she spat on before things were this bad. Before she even cared about hate. Before she had to hate.
She hates the sound of the cold wind against her screen window and the way it sounds like a petrified woman, the way it sounds like her heart is breaking and the sounds are just unbearable. The way it sounds like she did when everything just c r u m b l e d inside of her. The way it reminds her that she's even farther away from home than it appears.
She hates that every day she has to walk and pretend and shut her lips against the cold brace of bitter wind, biting and attacking at her silver pierced ears up the edge. It's even worse than the sound of the wind that the sound of her silence is because she is afraid. She's afraid to be alone in a crowd of people when instead she could be alone in warm rooms with hot chocolate
blue and yellowhey, you. yeah you, girl. with the eyes like rainclouds.
you match the weather today.
i take that back.
you match the sun today.
with your bright yellow pants, and your dark purple eyeliner, what are you trying to say?
so he's gone, and you're shakier than that earthquake we had the other day, and all of your poetry is shit, oh and let's not forget, you are a whore. yeah, capital letters don't work for you anymore. possibly because that's what society likes and you really don't like society anymore. whatever happened to the girl who believed in God? that Mormon (see? you don't even remember how to spell it anymore)?
when you're shaking in your room late at night and mom is at work, and all your family is slowly breaking apart, there's nothing left to do but open up the curtains and hope to God that he feels just as shitty as you do. it'd be more convenient to die, and yeah, i'll go back on my word saying that i wouldn't want to feel numb.
these are the things i scream late at nig
She never made it homeThere's something very fascinating about the change of wind. It doesn't brush up against her cheeks in an attempt to knock her to the cold cracked pavement, it's instead lingering around her frame and giving her a reason to push forward. All she wants is to be alone.
The lights stack up, repeatedly blinding her from the two feet that cross paths, make a path for her. The funny thing, for a situation like this where running for such a long time kills her, she feels like it's almost worth bursting her lungs. It's almost worth it if it means never looking back and never giving in.
The streetlights are lining up and lighting the way for her but all they really do is cause shadows and she's more afraid of admitting that she's frightened than she is frightened at all. Up, ahead she sees the flashing of the police come to drag her where nightmares never end and sleep is always impossible. She can't go back, she just
I don't seem to have the willOne day he woke up. And everything they had was gone. Torn to shreds, burned to crisp, and the notes were left to dust in the bookcase.
No one looks at the bookcase anymore.
This honesty, this cheer, this fucking laughter, is nothing but a hoax. Things would have gone a little farther if you weren't so dramatic. The description that blonds have more fun, well that's damn straight. Fuck that. Months have passed, days are coming, and the story is still unwritten.
I loved that sky, you know that. But there was never a kept rhythm with it. It was either raining, or bright in the eyes. Like a damn roller coaster. I've never been on a roller coaster and I sure as hell don't want to now.
It's getting harder each day to look the sun in the eyes.
Dearest darling, whoever is closest to hearing. What are we going to do with ourselves now?
So, you've done your pouting, and I've done my crying and they've all struck us with lightening. I'd rather stick around in the rain than run towards shel
dragging already used words"If I mean enough can you wait another day,
can you wait a week or two and wipe that frown off your face as you watch me leave?
"I promise I'll be home soon enough...wherever home is."
Well maybe it's for the best. Running away and falling on my fingers. I've never been good at speaking, and using symbols with my hands is a waste of strength. And although, most people can wait through everything maybe it's for the best if I just wait day by day on one thing.
Maybe, just maybe, it's for the best.
I swear I can make it hurt. I can make you bleed and I can make you scream, but most importantly I can make panic be a never-ending quality in your life. I won't feel guilty. I'm only going to walk away with out looking back.
After all, there's really nothing special about blue eyes, right?
I wonder if you were to read my letter, if I hadn't burned it, if you'd be here sooner. If I wasn't
To whom it may concernTo whom it may concern,
I used to have a boy I loved. But his heart was tattered in broken stars and sides leaking blood so darkly colored, even I couldn't recognize the dead boy on my ceiling. His skin grew too tight and his insides became see through even if he couldn't see clearly through glass eyes as cold as ice. There was once a time when I would have said this heart was filled with as many cobwebs as a haunted house, but I came to know that I was the one haunted day in and day out. I'd hope that maybe one day, it would all be settled.
I wrapped a box in silver wrapping because I know gold melts easily and I don't want this to go to waste. I tied it with a bow of blue like the ocean with honey flavored kisses. It was meant for you and no one else. Inside, my lips are sealed with letters to you. I promise you, that these eyes were meant for the hiding, and my tongue was meant to be swall
Alarm the AlarmIf I'm ordinary then honey
show me what's extra,
and push back those tears. If
crying is all you've got left,
then I'm ready to cancel my
I've done about all that I
am capable of and
darling the effort just doesn't
If I'm normal then honey
show me the ab,
'cause I'm fed up
with not being up to par
and if I'm not the man you expected
and let me know
I'm not your type and
baby I know it
'cause I've got a bad
case of the shakes,
I barely take care of
myself so how
do you expect
me to take
care of you
Forget all the nonsense
let's just try and be
if being is all we can do
then we'll let it be
and hope for the best
as we part ways
and know that in
we gave it our all
if our all wasn't
then at least it
was fun while
and if it's not
meant to last
then I'll say goodbye.
a boy i used to knowlanky with long dark hair; i thought he was the most beautiful thing in the world and even though he denied it, i knew he was just being modest. sometimes i would let him stick his hands up my shirt and touch my ribs. he'd slide his long fingers up and down each one, reminding me of how thin i am. i often forget.
i liked it when he touched me, but that was short lived and it was already too late to tell him to stop. it was like he didn't understand the meaning of the word "no" but i could forgive it because the mistakes he made were so honest.
"what would you do if i died?" he asked.
"i would be sad," was all i said and he looked disappointed.
today his hair is short and his eyes show a change. today i realized that he is the type of boy that all the teenage girls write about and it makes me feel pathetic in more ways than one.
he's been my inspiration for too long and it's time for me to move on because he's gone.
he's been gone for a long time.
Montana, you are so beautifuli never said i'd save you.
i swore i love you's and promised you fresh kisses with every departure.
i swore i would be there, wherever there was. swore i'd care for you
and miss you when you were too far but i never said i'd save you.
you were standing on the edge, with a lit cigarette and an empty head.
you were looking at me and i was looking through you. fifteen floors high,
fifteen years since i first met you and you were standing on the edge.
i was looking right through you, right to the other side.
to the sky, to the melting horizon, to the world you once loved.
i was looking into what you once saw and you swore,
you swore you wouldn't need me to.
no such thingi gotta wake up at 5
so i'll make this quick
i'm tired of being my own
when i don't even like myself
i'm tired of not knowing what
i want and being taken for granted
of being tired
Ironically Uneditedii. you get prettier every time i see you. call me corny if you want, but i wouldn't lie about this. i buy sweaters i wish you could borrow and daydream about fingerpainting hearts in the frost on your drivers side window. silly me needs to stop fighting for your gaze. when i take walks alone the snow crunches your name- when i come back to you what will you remember about me?
iii. you're growing and i'm growing but we're rooted so far apart...
iv. why is it that we're the type to notice more in our rearviews than when things are coming at us? i wonder how alike we are, sometimes. we must be a little bit, for us to make sense of each other. i miss you like no other, but it's this missing that i'm used to. you're like the ocean, distant, alluring, gorgeous, and perfectly gently deadly. i hope you're not shutting the world out anymore. there really are some good people in it.
v. this isn't for you, and this isn't to you, but this is about you, not that you're surprised. i've just gotta b
Words on A CanvasHe's not letting a moment go without notice and he's learning to trust his self, rather than living his life based on how everyone else thinks he should. She showed him how to be free and he's been living on a whim ever since. He even claims that one day he will take to the sky and conquer that which is flight, but until then he's perfectly fine walking the streets hand in hand with her.
She's stubborn as can be and so is he but for some reason it works and why try and fix something that was never broken in the first place? She has this smile that whispers to him that no matter how bad things may get, everything will be fine. There's always light at the end of the darkness and she's quickly becoming the flame to his candle.
He's never felt more vulnerable in his life than he does with her, but this time he doesn't mind that she forces him to break outside of his comfort zone because he knows she likes him, terrible flaws and all. She once told him that she never wanted to lose him and
Pretty As A PictureRemember when I mattered? When you mattered? (Truth is, you still do and always will matter to me) When we mattered?
Now I pick away at my brain matter hoping all the memories will scatter like the ashes of a dying fire.
This isn't the 4th of July and we aren't roasting marshmallows or counting the stars in the sky but I'll take a cigarette to hold off sleep for a little longer.
I would rather flood my bloodstream with nicotine than the thick smoke at the campground and I'm afraid to find you in my dreams once again, because it's starting to take a hold of me and I'm starting to lose hold of reality.
I wanted to read a good book but decided to write one instead and I'm desperately looking for a publisher but who wants to print a story where the words have no meaning?
I'm just a bunch of random thoughts that never fit together like a puzzle missing a few pieces and my lungs are starting to collapse and I'm worried my internal organs are going to fall into a recession.
The numbers don't
We're All Dreamersi.
Her wings used to flutter until they ripped her from the sky and bound her in chains. An underwater cave is now her home and the only memories she has of flying high are the images she painfully etches onto the walls. The jellyfish mock her with their tentacles and their ability to seamlessly float through the waters and all she can do is fight to break free until the water fills her lungs and causes her to blackout. She's hoping the lights come on soon and that this is all a dream because the marks on her ankles are becoming permanent and any signs she was ever anything different are fading quicker than the high tide.
"You need to stop dreaming about the impossible. It's called the impossible for a reason."
She was 7 and she wanted to be a fairy when she grew up, but they told her she needed to stop being ridiculous and quit dreaming. They took away her coloring books and sold her Peter Pan tape because she had grown much too fond of Tinker Bell and was becoming detached from r
I Failed Biology Oncei.
I'm like a pebble being skipped across the water, a small child having a brush with the unreal. My sanity is as transparent as these words that no longer make sense and I fear I'm going to lose my balance and fall off this tightrope soon. My only hope is the jaws of a lion aren't waiting below because I've yet to tame death and I can feel it consuming my shadow and prickling my skin with goose bumps.
They used to tell me I should join a circus one day but I preferred to eat animal crackers and sip on apple juice instead. There are a thousand, no a thousand and three miles separating my lungs and their deprecation of oxygen as they've filed a formal protest, suing me for negligence because of the one time I thought it would be cool to inhale cigarette smoke. I choked it right back up and my throat was sore for weeks, like the time I went scuba diving.
I was stung by a jellyfish and let out a girlish scream only to have ocean water jet down my throat. The salt clung to my eso
girl with the almost blond hair and the deep gray eyes that only sparkle blue in July. It's December and it's cold and close to everything sucks. I guess that makes sense because December and depression both start with the letter D, and they're both pretty damn annoying.
But girl, if I keep rambling on about it all I'm going to cause things to down slide just a little more and January will take a little longer to get here.
Anyway, it's December and you're freezing inside your own skin because mother dearest promised a new home, and a new room, and a place to rest your head. Well, I'm guessing she didn't know that everything in your world is "almost" or "close" or "soon". Next week, always means six months and tomorrow always means next week. Sometimes you want mother dearest to get the hell away from the damn herbs and start picking up on her kids' habits. December wouldn't be so cold on your heart if there was so
SolaceShe never slept well in the dark,
not without the children of the sun and moon
to guide her weary lids home.
Guided by the aftermath, she was always two steps behind.
What did the world look like to the girl who had been through it all?
Braved the heaviest of storms,
yet skipping over cracks in the pavement.
They said her eyes were the wisps of clouds before the storm.
To him they were reflections of pages overlooked.
She said it was like she lived the life of someone she had never met.
Laid out to dry, yesterdays news.
He knew her as the girl who was built to never collapse.
He wished he was too.
He loved her more than words could say, and yet her pain was such,
that at times, he feared she wouldn’t make it.
But on nights like these, even when it threatened to consume her,
he became convinced that somehow she would.
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