I like this because it reminds me of all of the hilarious, lost moments of late-night weirdness I have had in my life…I LoLd like seven times reading this.
Something dark vibrates inside me,
I am a case spread tight and thin,
You are the stitches that hold me together,
So the booze won’t seep through the seams in my skin.
You put a cigarette in my hand to stop it from shaking,
The smoke hides your smile, but not your disdain
You tell me to inhale the nicotine,
and exhale the shame.
Our shoes weren’t made for running,
So we’ve gotten good at hiding from pain,
You look at me as if to say,
drink down your sorrow, lets sin today and pray tomorrow.
We pretend for the world,
And we pretend for each other,
And sometimes the darkness seeps from the seams in my skin,
So you stitch me up, and you hold me together again.
vannalanna asked: Your poetry is absolute perfection.
oh my god i am seriously about to start crying =) thank you so much that really means a lot to me
You say you want to be beautiful.
So you ditch the jeans and t-shirt, in favor of frill and lace,
You cake powder and chalk and goop,
3 inches thick on your suffocated face,
You drop a pound,
Until bones stick out of your skin
You straighten and brush all to curl it back up again.
And if you have the time and money,
You’re happy to go under the knife,
To be nipped and tucked,
Enlarged and shrunk,
Until everything fits just right.
If you manage to survive all your own parlor tricks
It’s more than your looks that’s changed,
A plastic stranger, a painted fraud,
You’re a doll, I no longer want to play with.
We keep each other company, if only to avoid our own.
We drink down our joys and strife alike,
We live a bit harder,
Mistaking street lamps for moons and cigarette smoke for ambiance
All in the name of life’s fickle lover.
Because death is what drives us together,
God knows it’s not love.
You say you like my eyes, but I know it’s the sex,
And I just hate you a little less than the others.
So here’s to the road less traveled,
It sure as fuck ain’t made of yellow bricks.
But it’s the one that we walk, fed on booze, orgasms and pot,
Happily never after, Yours truly,
A pair of morbid cynics.
I don’t want you to sing to me of love,
But rather songs of dissolute eyes in a decaying face.
I don’t want your mushy gooey somewhat liquified insides,
But the cold imperfect solidity of your skin and bone case.
I want your cells touching mine,
A DNA fingerprint, your alibi and my evidence.
I want your blackened twisted soul,
Not some cheap excuse for holy radiance,
Lets be malicious together,
Feign importance and never hide our disinterest,
Until one day we become so introverted we fold in on each other.
The monotone of a metronome,
Can you feel the seconds ticking by?
Each one pregnant with possibility,
Yet pass into dull mediocracy,
Sent away with a despondent sigh.