( Read more... )

This is how today feels:
Stale cigarettes, rotten booze, gangrene eyes and swollen hangnails.
Homicide, rancid milk, blunt knives and shadow stabbing.

I keep thinking about all of the things we did, all of the things we will never do again and it makes me feel like burning, like telling you about everything that has ever crossed my mind about what we ( Read more... )

Tell me a story.
Tell me about something that makes you want to get out of bed in the morning - be it her face, the sky, the voice that tells you to keep going when your limbs want to stay put.
Tell me why life is worth living for, why the sun is yellow, why there are no such things as right answers or wrong questions.
Tell me what it feels like to ( Read more... )

(I know my place, but it doesn’t know me ( Read more... )

You never get yourself back from the people you love. You just leave something behind, like a broken fingernail in between their teeth.
The nail grows back, but it isn't really the same, is it? It feels different - more crooked, more jagged - so keep filing it away.
Keep filing it until you have nothing left.

Hey, look, here’s a feeling you’ve ( Read more... )

(my hand thinks i'm an artist, my heart thinks i'm a poet, my brain knows i'm a street rat. just call me Aladdin.)

i could write about how you make me write things that i don't mean to mean, 
or i could write about the fact that you make my skin crawl every time i see your name or notice all of those small things that will always remind me of you,
but ( Read more... )

first, it's a sound that makes another sound, a taste that makes you gag.
then, the voice of space becomes a shout, a roar - everything shudders, nothing fades, but we all leave feeling different; 
more dead than alive.

we outgrow love like clothes.
you're the only thing that really counts, but it's not just this - it's everything.
it's the dirt under ( Read more... )

for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction ( Read more... )

for the record, the blues are still blue ( Read more... )

I want a Thursday kind of love, the kind that lasts past
Saturday night,
               Sunday night,
                           Monday night,
                                      Tuesday night and
                                                    Wednesday night.

I guess you'll just keep pouring salt in the wound. What else are you ( Read more... )