the paintbrushes sit on my shelf, their hair fries just watching me.

the yarn in my closet yearns to be untangled but they’re stuck while i scroll.

the stacks and stacks of journals will collect dust right under my nose.

i’d like to clean my room, and i’d surely enjoy a walk right now, but one more video can’t hurt, right?

id like to blame my phone because i sometimes forget how easy it is to ...

i am a lover girl with sharp teeth who avoids the ones she loves most, afraid of getting scratched or bit. after all a hug is the beginning of a swallow, a kiss is the beginning of cannibalism....

I stare at her with hatred and disgust in my eyes.

her face is oily and full of pimples, her arms are too long, her stomach protrudes, her thighs aren’t right, her hair is always a mess.

I just want to scream and punch her but i can’t, or else the mirror would shatter into a million pieces....

if wishes fell like rain then i certainly am a storm. to be perfect for one i’d cut my veins, peel the skin, and shave it down to the bone so it can intertwine what’s left of my fingers with your palms just so i could say “we are perfect together” as blood drips down my lap....

through the bark and the moss chokes the trees with such grip whispers don’t let me go just like how i whisper to you to water me down with river water so you don’t have to choke...