Eyes like tombstones,
lilac bones protrude from translucent skin.
A grave sight indeed, skeleton.
you have everybody talking -
sick with worry over your sickness.
Falling away before them,
nobody can catch a feather -
they fall so erratically
when whisked away on the slightest zephyr.
Your head, so giddy with lightness
loves the feeling of weightlessness
that creeps in when vision fades black
and blood plummets to nowhere.
Wide, tired white eyes hold little slumber, telling tales of a desperate hunger.
You crave so much more than nourishment,
gluttonous for punishment;
Determined to make flesh disappear in your corporal defacing.
Where will they bury you when you disintegrate?
Will they even find a body?
Or will you scatter to the sky on the winds?
Speaks in tongues
Tongues that are incomprehensible to anyone but the most open people.
That’s why she’s misunderstood by so many.
They will takes away it’s meaning, it’s pride and try to hold her down
She doesn’t give up
And no matter how much they to try to break her heart and bend her mind
She will always return, back to her perfect form, each time stronger than the last.
The next time someone will try to tear her down and tell her
That she’s but a small drop of water in the lake of life
She’ll look them in the eye and say that she’s much more than that
More than a drop, more than a lake
“I’m not a lake, I’m the ocean”
Like the ocean itself she knows
That no matter how much they push her
She’ll always go back
Back to her perfect, original shape.
Oceans don’t move.
But if I hold your hand,
I’ll never let go
and if I look into your eyes,
I’ll never look away.
So I warn you to stay away
And I try to push you away
Because you just might
leave me one day.
Then I’ll be left wishing
I could’ve held you
for one more day,
Playing the lyrics that
remind me of you on replay.
And then I’ll blame
myself for letting you stay
Only regretting that I
didn’t beg you to stay,
Only regretting that I
that I let you slip away.
This town is kinda blurry at 5.30am;
pre dawn blue hues give way to the flushed pink-coral sky of morning, everything decorating the horizon looks like smudged brush strokes on canvas, painted by an artist who couldn’t quite make up their mind and got a little frustrated. It’s the kind of painting I can relate to. Maybe it’s a blur because my eyes haven’t rested in 48 hours and they’re becoming unfocused. Imaginary bugs keep flying into my peripheries only to disappear as soon as I turn my head. It’s cold out, in the fog, but I can’t stop smoking and I thought the sunrise might help my mind ease but it’s only making things worse. I keep thinking about the sun rising then sinking, with the sinking feeling that it’s all happening too quickly, but not fast enough and all I’m doing is watching this cycle repeating from the sidelines, I’m never really involved even though the world revolves; I’m just here standing still.
You deserve the love you keep trying to give everyone else. You are a rare breed, sparking and gleaming in a world that does not yet understand what it means to love ferociously. You deserve to find someone who does not ask you to lessen your roar, who is in awe of the magnitude by which your passion burns. You deserve to find someone who will only ever want to add to your fire, someone who will use their own matchstick heart to encourage your passion, to magnify your flame. Until then, use the world as your kindling, use experience as your coal. Grow your love like a wildfire, and never back down from its heat; never let them dim its light.