I’m an over thinker A pain carrier Yours mine and theirs I’ll carry Because pain is supposed to hurt And I get high off the sharp searing hot blades of tears that rack my being
“Go out”, “make friends” is all I hear. Honestly it pisses me off . Why would I want to be there With all the bubble and shrill laughter And the happiness that makes me want to cut myself, it’s disgusting really
I romanticize suffering Even though I know the blood is not beautiful It’s just really red and wet
I want to be happy it’s just been so long I fear I won’t recognize it I suspect it came with you though And that’s not good. Cos you can take it back whenever and all I’ll be left with is this blood With its redness and wetness but it’s not beautiful
You’re beautiful You tell me I am too. I don’t want the blood .No, not really I want our beauty I need our magic.
writing in this scattered manner turned out more difficult than I expected. I’ve missed being here, been recovering from exhaustion, something I didn’t even think was possible or even that serious. Thank you guys for your messages on how much you like what I’m doing, you make typing from my phone less tiring and very worthwhile .