You twist thoughts to masterpieces,

Delicately create scenes so vivid I can feel them,

I envy the way you paint words onto paper,

I feel the beginnings of obsession trickling through my mind,

Sending shivers down my spine,

I count each breath between the lines,

And I don’t know your face,

Or even if that’s your real name,

But I do know I’m falling harder with each sentence you create....

Tw: Eating disorder, suicidal ideation

Pretty white lies can only last for so long,

Thick outer coats when it’s scorching hot,

Yeah I know,

When they start to realize,

You only sink deeper,

Refuse to walk in the sun,

To look at the mirror,

Sweatpants galore while you stare at her,

Wish you were thinner,

Does the pain never stop,

Is the grass always greener,

Know the day you will die,

...

The sky looks like heaven through a humans eye

Clouds cascading over the endless baby blue forming towers, castles, villages for those who died and rose anew

The clouds part for rain born of a child’s tears

Turning grey with hurt, and fear

When the anguish forms to anger, shifts to hate, explodes to rage

The clouds combine in a blinding fury that puts thunder storms to shame

The souls wrath ...

I want to kill you, to see the blood spill from your throat.

And I’ll stick the dagger in deeper as you cry for help, beg me to stop.

I’ll say, say it louder, that I want to hear your voice crack.

Your large hands will wrap around my wrist and you’ll whisper a mangled plea as you fight off the fatigue.

As you die I’ll laugh, what can I say you were the one who bought that video game anyways....

The blade of grass sways so peacefully

Unlike your blade that is piercing me

You drain out my life

Until my existence becomes a pool of blood that lays around me

Drowning the grass with the distasteful tang of my crimson blood

As my head lolls against earth’s dirtied floor

I know grass will be the last thing I ever see

Rage spikes adrenaline through me

For even though I will meet death, t...

What’s the point of living when dying feels so good?

What’s the point of happy if sad is the only one who understands me?

What’s the point of love if fury is what fuels me?

What’s the point of being kind if I know rude will always shield me?

What’s the point of fate when life’s only real constant is its unpredictability?

What’s the point of forgiveness when resentment feels oh, so satisfying?...

_I look so ugly in every reflection, every photo except in this one specific bathroom mirror and only at night mind you. Still then I don’t look exactly how I want to look, but something about the face that stares back at me is undeniably better than the one I’m usually met with. Her features are sharper, her eyes glossier, her mouth smaller, softer. Something about it is… so- so captivatingly mes...

The window is stuck and I cant close it.

It’s letting in all sorts of things.

Bats swoop in, bee’s fly in, spiders crawl in.

It’s maddening but I cant do a thing about it, infuriatingly maddening.

My hands are tied and so I scream, but in my pillow.

It’s not my fault it’s stuck, they broke it.

And they wont fix it.

Sometimes I’m glad they broke it.

I mean I hate the creatures but its good to...

Specks of color dimpling the darkened sky,

Awakening the tired night,

Cascading fairy lights,

A shimmer of hope in the fog,

A shimmer of love in the dark....

There was a man

Who had calloused hands

Owned by his company

Fueled by the money

He’d sit on his porch

As the sun came out

And the birds flew about

He’d imagine himself just as free

He’d light a cigarette

It would numb his heart

In his old worn down chest

And turn his lungs to ash with each tired breath

The smoke fogged his brain

He yearned for rest

Though he had no money to his middle c...