vomitingviolets

life is a fragile thing but it isn't hard to be crushed by it

agony pins my hips down sniffs my wrists smells heartache and leans in for a kiss

darling, oh darling, that's all you are, and ever will be: a saturated midnight tragedy, struggling to swallow the unforgiving poetry of life

at night i swim through oceans of black to the island you live on

i crave to be somebody's tragic mess so badly that my insides self-tear to tattered curtains; want them to see me and love me for the brokenness that i am, the naive, splintered heart that levitates my body whispers, i am i am i am i

(my) our youth was a white war my mind is coated with our drying silver blood. we emerge as adults; the ones who have lost the battle will be seen as black shadows, and their scars have been dug deep with scorching onyx nails, but the victorious can proudly wield their remaining illumined war-marks, shining even then.

i will never have a moment of peace, not when poetry lurks behind my eyelids, whispers horror stories to me before unconsciousness and seeps in through the minuscule cracks of my skull to spread herself like a virus, (loving me,) infecting my brain; i know it now.