(Source: schizophrenia666, via natural-killer)
You need light he said
It’s late, you should be in bed
Words pile like stones in my head
Mason sloppy sharp pictures that tear at my eyelids
Nightmares that should only belong to year-olds,
I clutch and sweat like a kid.
The monsters are you,
and the hanged stares in the church pews.
Drinking sets the dark corners askew
But still, there you are
Only during the day do I question
Where you are
Where are you?
At night the skin remembers,
Raises in each and every memorial to desire
That died with every shadow cast of desire past
And every sudden movement as you withdrew too fast
From me
My love
That pulled up just as short
Was it shame that cut off my right hand, never to touch another?
Or was it every other word you had spoken
Enough to put God’s Love to shame
But was broken with the weight
Of a thousand mindless crimes
A sigh, another try.
Try to kiss these nightmare goodbye
But they don’t kiss back
One day you fall for this boy. And he touches you with his fingers. And he burns holes in your skin with his mouth. And it hurts when you look at him. And it hurts when you don’t. And it feels like someone’s cut you open with a jagged piece of glass. And then you realized you always felt that way.
The Tracey Fragments (via oceaniceyes)
(Source: formallymaura, via eastdakota)
I guess it’s a comfort, perhaps a sense of self control, doing worse damage to yourself than the world will ever dare inflict.
Chuck Palahniuk (via eastdakota)
nogreatcathedral asked: I saw your post...if you need to talk to someone, call me ANYTIME! I love you, and you are an incredible human being!
Awhh, I’m all good…I was just having a rough night and just reflecting on everything that could possibly be wrong in my life. haha I love you too. <3 Have you heard back from Florida?
It’s the stupidest thing, but…haha Man, I thought… because neither of us cared too much about a relationship, we’d care more for each other. I thought in a weird way, we would be good for each other. I felt more hope that night than I had in years. Not the scared, useless, sick hope either, the kind I have when I lean in and just pray they kiss me back…
And I can’t say it was the first time I was lied to, but it was the first time I had cared. It wasn’t the first time I had cared, but it was the first time I built up stupid fucking expectations. That’s all on me, by the way. God, why the fuck am I even writing this. It’s only me that I hate for anything anyways. So really, when I post this embittered letter, I’m just sending it to myself.
All of this makes me want to laugh, but it gets stuck halfway up my windpipe and I swallow it like a tumor.
