Protected: Masochist

This content is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

Advertisements

It’s only love.

Take a sip, little love.

No, no.

Don’t think about it.

Trust me.

This high’ll burn brighter 

than any drug.

Just drink.

I’m worth it,

I promise.

After all,

It’s only love. 

Angels & Constellations


There’s cracks in the bedroom ceiling. 

we looked up from our place on the ground as we slept on hard-wood floors

and claimed we could pin-point certain constellations

and we were dragging black crayons between the lines

because (for the first time) we wanted to prove something to ourselves.

We weren’t out of minds just yet.

we shifted the bed to the other side of the room

and moved the dresser in front of the window;

to block out memories of the outside and all the hurt we’d felt before.

we’d sweep up dust-angels and watch them follow our lungs down.

We weren’t ready to leave just yet.

incense would burn holes in our eyesight and fog our common sense

and we’d watch the smoke twist around our fingers all night long.

we were twirling and swirling and curling our toes

beneath the summer sun and glow of artificial light until we couldn’t feel a thing.

i don’t think we could support ourselves.

There’s cracks in the bedroom ceiling.

and you left behind a letter addressed to what you saw in me,

stained with howling winds and the wolves that hid in the shadows.

you said you missed the outside but you were lying and now you’re gone.

i threw stones at the door and cried all night;

now this is just another empty apartment.

i moved the bed again

but i still can’t stop waking up on the wrong side.

No refundsĀ 

take. take. take.

i’ll allow you to burrow holes into me,

if you need a place to feel safe and warm

but remember to give something back.

i don’t want to be left with nothing again.

because i don’t want to be nothing

again.

You’re much stronger than you thinkĀ 

I’ll be the first to tell you

scissors don’t need to be brought to a wrist

to cut deep

because cutting off your heart from you head,

or yourself from your dreams,

is also enough

to make you bleed

and there’s ink spilled all over these pages,

and at times it seems tears 

are cheaper than water from a spout:

these lines need diluted,

these blots are a dark, dark sea
and maybe I’m not too good at swimming,

even if it’s just through a pool of ink

but I’ve learned if you just keep paddling,
you’re much stronger than you think.

Un

Unplanned.

Unprepared.

Unnoticed.

Unwanted.

Unloved.

Unable.

Unaccepted.

Unused.

Unacknowledged.

Unappealing.

Unbeknown…

Un un un.

It seems to make me.

I’m always un.

But it’s these un’s that make me stronger too.

I will become unstoppable,

as the years go on.

And come out unbloodied,

in the fight of life.

I, along with everyone else,

just have to go though some unfortunate things,

before we can unbarricade these walls,

and become open to the world.

We just have to remember,

be unbashful,

unbox our feelings and opinions,

and uncap the inspiration and intelligence,

that I KNOW we all have inside us.
Live on,
and do it proudly.

Spilled Ink

Use me

Like a pen uses ink 

Beautiful. Original. Interminable.

Write until your heart is spilled completely on the page for me to 

EXAMINE

Until there is no ink left 

To write with…

Write to me about love and tragedy and painfully gorgeous moments 

Hand in hand.

Flesh on flesh.

Mouth on mouth.

Love & sin.

Free

There’s been a film
Collecting on my bones

The way poetry seems to,

The way love condenses

And spills over;
Unnecessary. 
I’ve been learning to live alone,

Enveloping myself in the 

Emptiness like a moth-eaten quilt

At midnight.
It is safe here,

With the memories

Tucked away, but

I am done with this

Shrapnel,

I am not broken anymore

And I have no intention

Of pleasing you. 
You can break my bones before 

I’ll surrender,

‘Cause I know this ache

This tar of my bloodstream;

Molten flecks of my memories, 

The pieces of you 

I couldn’t stand to keep 

I know this sorrow and I reject it

And this is the monster you’ve been left with:

A girl who will not succumb

To sadness,

Who is no one’s but her own

And belongs to nothing

But her dreams.
And for the first time,

I feel invincible.