I’m so fucking sick of writing things,
highlighting them,
then pressing delete
and in an instant
everything just snaps into the universe,
never to be seen again.
you know how there’re some days where you look at the clock
and think of all the things you should be doing.
homework,
exercising,
cleaning,
and then you look back and an hour's passed
already while you just
sat there.
I’m having too many of those days lately.
to top it all off
I’ll eat chocolate and spend a whole
five minutes regretting every bite
cos i have a Prada fashion show in a month.
metaphors suck.
they stick to your fingers like
the waste of wars,
bullets and blood.
they’re the accepted disguise of everything we’re too
fucking afraid to
just say.
our tongues can be cut off,
our skin unseamed,
our lips the vessels of passing poison
but we can still cry.
and still hurt
and still not hurt
and still love
and hate
and believe
and still
just be so over everything
we ignore it till it
sinks its fangs into our
delusion.
I just adore the fact that
there are like, what, 6 billion people
that live and breathe,
but everyone I know is so lonely
and you’re upset that god didn’t
put you on the throne and crown you
just for being so
lovely.
there’s so much to do.
so many lines of knowledge to be read and remembered
that
I feel guilty for not caring.
do you love a boy
who makes you feel much better than you
should?
do you love a boy
that makes the meteorites a little blunter?
a little less apocalyptic?
but in ninety years,
or nine thousand,
there’ll still be that feeling of
roads that haven’t been
treasured
enough to be walked on.
we can’t do it all.....
tired.
spent.
exhausted.
sleep.
wake.
hungry.
food.
sleep.
sleep.
coughing.
sleep.
coughing.
coughing.
vomit.
breath less.
pain.
sleep.
black.
white.
kiss.
vomit.
coughing.
breath less
breath less.
dead.
repeat
repeat
repeat.
and rinse.
