your lungs fill with smoke. not the kind you want. the dark kind. the kind that swirl overhead and take the sun away.  your lungs fill with thick, black smoke and there's no room for air. you don't scream, or cry, or call for help. it's just the way thigs work out. you want to pull your heart out through the veins in your wrist. you want to swing ( Read more... )

and he said, "take a walk with me and we can step on the crunchy leaves ( Read more... )

Ask me ( Read more... )

I am the pen that ran out of ink midsentence ( Read more... )

i can only see by fluorescent light
and i am constantly torn
between reds and blues

talk to me about all the things
i never finish
they were useless thins anyway.

I've lost more friends than
i have fingers
and i'm asking my cat if i am okay.
he isn't quite sure yet.

( Read more... )

I thought you had kind eyes ( Read more... )

there is a tear in the cutain that anybody could be looking through ( Read more... )

lately, my least favorite part of being me is ( Read more... )

( Read more... )