"load up on guns"
and i'll sing when it's cold.
you are my bird, tiny
bones and flight against the wind
and into the sky, i feel
so white.

hollow next to you,
and fighting with everything else.
grey powder and metal flecks
to rub into my skin and
speed a bullet towards
an apple tree,
with no apples.

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I'm all over the place. It's raining outside, my red bike got wet, and I'm drinking jasmine tea that's either brewed too little or too much. There is a funeral going on and I don't know if I should be there. I don't know if I've forgotten what it's like to be amongst people. I'm fighting with myself over the relevance/importance of anything. If the ( Read more... )

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To sum it up (katy):


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When there is absolutely nothing for me to say (nothing to help, nothing to change, nothing to be), so why the fuck not.


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I'll suck you dry and label you 'Love'. Make up for something. Like. The dissappointment. I've never felt more alone, or more useless.

I understand death, I don't understand life. I just fucking wish, I wish I wish I beg that I could make this easier for you, Katy.