a spoonful of sugarfor too long nowi’ve written hopewithin the margins of my ribs, tiny hearts andgolden starsadorn the pagesthat make up"our story”(even though the only thingwritten there isa shaky handedthe end.)the ink that flowsthrough my veinsscribes falsepromises on myeyelids, tauntingmy dreams with the notionthat we’ll everbe somethingmore thanlate nightconversationsand day oldbread crumbs.a spoonful of sugar won’tmake this truthany easier to swallow;i’ve dug myselfa grave withinthis cloud of denialand I wouldmuch rather spend my daysdecaying in the shadows of my poorly built casketthan return to the monotonyof tomorrow. i could easily blame the alignment of the stars or karma’s incessant bitchinessbut that’d just by myinner child refusingto face the facts of life--I need to wake upand smell the
Autumn Leavesthe autumn leavesdance in the chilledOctober air,hushhushthey whisperexcitedlyas they fallin a rushing chorus--they know.your secret.yes, your preciouslittle secret is theirsfor the telling;they know. (the very earth you walkon trembles withthe knowledgeof your sins.)you can’t escape,they know.the blood stillstains your hands red,their screams still echoin your ears;all those liveshang silentlyover your head likea noose, but youknow better--at least you thinkyou doyou’ve won;you walk withprideful strides,the bastard you arehidden behindthat Cheshire smileand those cold, dead eyesbut we’ll see who hasthe last laughwhen you’re clawingyour way outof your own grave.the autumn leavesdance in the chilledOctober air,tee hee heethey laughexcitedlyas they fallin a rushing chorus--your desperatescreams makethem happy.they knewall along.
necrosisyou are like a disease runningramped in my chest,stealing the airfrom my lungsand dousing theflames that ragein between my ribs.your poisonis embedded in my veins; likeswallowing shards of glass, it achesand stings as it tears meapart from theinside out.**yet you are my addiction.cold fingers dance across myspine like comet tails;their icy trailsturn the skin bluewith death anddesire; the ticking in mychest has come to a rest, each gear and cogrusted and stainedby your lovelorn kisses--you kill me(in a good way.)
papercutsmy bony fingers tremble as inkflows steadily from my veins,down it spillsfrom the paper cuts that adorn my skin--it pools at my feet,the words ofmy eulogy reflecting in itsmarbled surface.sometimes i wantto take a letter opener and carve out this beating monstrositycaged deep within the valleys of my ribcage,i want to hang it on my bedroomwall as a trophy, as a reminderof how notto feel.but here i am still,silently bound--my spine is broken and bent, my eyes are open and blank,their storiespilfered and tornby the love lornfingers of unworthy bastards.
heart stringsmy fingers glideover your scars,the ones that lineyour clavicles,the ones thattally every stick and stone that's beat your body--they are your trophiesof war, yourright of passagebut I see themas ugly remindersof a broken societyand I want to kiss them away.i sacrifice myeyes to the heavensso that the stars may fallat your feet, theirglowing tails yourbreadcrumbs toa warmer future;let me burn my bonesso that i canignite the hollowspaces between your ribs;i want to watch your phoenix rise.i'd gladly tradeplaces with Atlasif it meant I could sing you to sleep with the lullabies of forget-me-nots && i love yous--forever you will beembedded in myheart stringsand i willplay your melodyuntil the dayi die.