(no subject)
i can't write worth shit anymore. i'm feeling too much, too little... to make any sense out of what i'm trying to say.
a notable effort however. nothing more:
jasmine girl,
dolled up in orchids
and babys breath,
smells like
living free
new, like being
born again, without
the company
of worthlessness,
powdered and pilled
to perfection
her palms are white,
outstretched like her
wrists, which trust
the world to nurture
their vulnerability
but jasmine blossoms
never teach reality
to hands and arms
and everything
in between
her blood blue
through the
veins that stretch
like railways beneath
skin and expectations
she blinks, wonders
why she splits apart
so easily, why she
will fall to pieces
so willingly, among
the perfect blossoms
whose promises
prove fallacious
under the heat of
the sun, the earth,
and everything she
has relied on as
real
she finds flowers soft
against the flesh
she has come to know
as destructable,
as her own
and so she sleeps,
dreaming of a
wonderland that can
never come to be,
the hope for beauty,
happiness, purity
coddling the breath
that moves insecurely
beneath her breastbone
it is the
impossibility
of this unadulterated
dreamworld
that keeps her
breathing
a notable effort however. nothing more:
jasmine girl,
dolled up in orchids
and babys breath,
smells like
living free
new, like being
born again, without
the company
of worthlessness,
powdered and pilled
to perfection
her palms are white,
outstretched like her
wrists, which trust
the world to nurture
their vulnerability
but jasmine blossoms
never teach reality
to hands and arms
and everything
in between
her blood blue
through the
veins that stretch
like railways beneath
skin and expectations
she blinks, wonders
why she splits apart
so easily, why she
will fall to pieces
so willingly, among
the perfect blossoms
whose promises
prove fallacious
under the heat of
the sun, the earth,
and everything she
has relied on as
real
she finds flowers soft
against the flesh
she has come to know
as destructable,
as her own
and so she sleeps,
dreaming of a
wonderland that can
never come to be,
the hope for beauty,
happiness, purity
coddling the breath
that moves insecurely
beneath her breastbone
it is the
impossibility
of this unadulterated
dreamworld
that keeps her
breathing