Wednesday, 30 March 2016

you've only got yourself and your insanity

But you make it messy when it's going good. You make it all so messy and your face blurs every memory in me until I'm standing next to you and I used to mean something to you.
What satisfaction do you get living your pathetic life glued to people in virtual worlds who don't give a damn ? What fun is it being a fan of a game, I never understood and what pleasure did you get in selling out and god you are so beautiful I wish you wouldn't.  I wish you wouldn't sell out because you are worth so much more.  I wish you wouldn't sell your soul to the devil and I wish your face wouldn't break my heart everytime I looked at it. You've insistently consumed me and I'm tired of your flames girl and I've been burnt so thoroughly that I'm all but a handful of ashes in your hands and can you please let go of me.
You're a beautiful lie.
It's a trap and everything you've been banking on is going to slip and give way beneath your feet and you'll fall and break like the delicate skin and bones you are but god you act so tough you've almost deluded yourself into believing the lies you project.
You're worth more than this.
You're worth more than this.
You deserve more than this and I know you said sorry but my heart still breaks.
Why did you change like the tides
Why did I open the doors to damnation for you ?
I still remember when you said the old you was dead. And she is. And it aches like this  because I miss her everyday .
You've no right to say you still care and wreck me like this.
It's so difficult  to take care of someone so fickle.
It hurts to look at your face and I can't explain that and it hurts to think about you in ways I shouldn't and it hurts to have thought you changed only to realise that you became much worse.
Vacuousness isn't appealing on you.

Fine lines

I can remember not knowing what a headache feels like , asking my friend once if the throbbing in my head was one , triumphant I'd finally gotten a headache and I could understand.

I could never understand your nuances , 3 fucking revolutions over and your name is the drug that keeps my brain wanting more at 1 30 am. I've forgotten how to unlove  you because I got so busy getting so good at it and now everything you do crushes me and i can't undo the damage I've self inflicted ,can you not be so inconsistent,  you're eating my heart raw and inside out , all I am is a memory, and I'm tired of being forgotten by you.

Now you know how heartbreak tastes in your mouth , you breathe in the acid of absentia , you might as well set fire to your lungs, you wouldn't know the difference honey, you wouldn't know.

Why you should leave when they say "I'm busy "

You are constructed of your parents dreams and passion , an extraterrestrial intermingling of fate and coincidence , your existence is a gift to everyone's life you've touched and you aren't perfect or flawless.
But you don't need to be.
Walk away from people who dismiss your imperfections as flaws instead of acknowledging them as unique manifestations of an individual existence .

Walk away from people who make you feel like you're missing a limb or a spark or something that makes you interesting enough to hold their curiosity, you are not created as entertainment for the masses , your existence was never intended to please any mere earthling , you are an amalgamation of everything you believe in and everything that you do , you are too damn precious for someone to not be able to make time for you.
Walk away from someone that isn't in awe of your absolute magic.
Walk away from people who aren't committed to unconditional love.
Walk away from people who are too "busy " to acknowledge the miracle that you are.

Tuesday, 29 March 2016

Santa Monica

Find her in the wrecked ship she passes off for a heart , find her when she's sleeping alone in the house she cannot call a home , find her in alleys behind parked cars, in between the cigarettes you hate , find the dreams she drowned in the bottom of a jack Daniels on the way to yet another party full of faces  she doesn't recognise , men she doesn't know brushing up against her , their perfume too strong against her marijuana soaked memories of you , find her when she's sober, look her in the eyes and see if to still recognise the girl you called your friend. Find her behind eyeliner that is too harsh against the ebony of her skin , behind the walls she has built with broken bones , find her behind the facades she has constructed , find her on her way to drown her sins in the sea,take her home. 

Find her stumbling drunk , clutching the sink like a drowning man would reeds , holding her hand to her throat , puking put the poison last night chose to force feed her, find her when her demons are ripping her limbs apart , find her blades and protect her wrists from her fanatic attempts , save her from the chaos of her mind at 2 am when you're clinging to pills to escape the pain of seeing her shipwrecked lungs zoom in on you and call it home ,save her from the blind instincts to turn to people who would eat her raw and bleed her dry , save her from the burning in your heart when you look back and find she's found a safe house and it doesn't include you.

Thursday, 10 March 2016

I wish we all could make it

On Thursdays we wear sadness like  a suffocating cloak that threatens to put out the light of our very existence . I've crossed oceans to be able to stand here and the ground is giving way to my feet and no face looks familiar except that of death .
I've left promises I've broken to myself under my feet as I'm walking away from them,breathing in the smoke of burnt perseverance , I've lost the road on the way home , and it's raining uncertainty and clouded with a chance of corrosive heartbreak , didn't I tell you not to break down my walls,  they were to keep my demons from devouring the earth after tasting my soul and declaring it dead. Didn't I tell you the girl with the copper skin will tear away your resistance,  didn't I tell you sin would consume you, didn't I tell you to forget her and the poison she made you eat and called it love. Don't save me sugar , there's no saving the dead.