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benit's almost winter and ben has already started to grow his hair. it curls as the snow starts to fall and she finally notices that he is first in line as the last boy to care.ben
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ben isn't crying, but that doesn't mean he's okay. ben isn't crying – ben isn't trying – instead he sings and screams and grinds his teeth,
that's the way the medication works.
that's the way he drowns out the sound of the world.
and did you know? he blames it all on the drugs – the way he knows he will be forgotten once he's gone.
he wants it to stop, he wants it all to
by ~the-chemical-factory
war paintlucy pulled up my fingers into a prayer and told me that all the war paint in the world couldn't fix us.war paint
i cracked open my chapped lips, trying to smile against the side of her ribcage and
neck, and she smeared lines of my blood into the most beautiful things on her
sides. i kissed her knees and the space where her spine starts to curve, and she
stroked bears and glorious warriors into my thighs and stomach.
it would be simpl
by ~orange-sheep
have you told her lately?it is not monday and there is no monday depression no hollow bed for me to sink like a ship inside its blue sheetshave you told her lately?
there is no water but still an ocean birds with whom i must still contend
do you know what it's like
to wear real scars amongst the false? the ring of countenance unbearable but you are so lovely, did you know? did you know that i will never know anything worth knowing, i will never believe you when you love me, never understand why you'd like to remember me
i am a false feeling, metastatic like cancer a faded poe
by *ohsostarryeyed
tomorrow sounds like you.tomorrow, i'll be lying to you through a clenched jaw prepared for you to notice this amongst other nervous ticks. i want to be found out when i say i don't miss you, when i say i don't need you, or love you. i want you to know what i'm saying when i'm not saying anything at all.tomorrow sounds like you.
tomorrow, i'll be talking about nothing at the top of my lungs and you'll be ignoring me. sound waves will be crashing on empty shores with no one there to greet them and the sand will get between my fingers and in my hair. i won't be able to get rid of this feeling for days. and i'll care even when i know i shouldn't.
tomorrow, i'll s
by ~paperheartsyndrome
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fin.
(swim swim little fishy)
hello, i was wondering if you would like to come check out my gallery
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Every artist is a cannibal, every poet is a thief. They steal their inspiration and sing about their grief.
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