I want destiny to taste The last sliver of air Netted in my lungs. It’s Nitrogen imbued With a wink of vinegar, And a gasp of sour carbon, Made all the more potent By a throat varnished In wood turpentine.
I woke up today thinking it was Wednesday. This was odd, as yesterday was Monday, and I didn’t recall doing any time traveling. Where did my Tuesday go? I checked my phone and it confirmed my internal clock must be broken, because of course it was Tuesday. It was Tuesday, April 24th, 2018, the day … Continue reading From chaos and all its corollary elements, how is it that every breath in the expanse of existence has lead this Universe towards the creation of the exact me?
It eats away at you from the outside in, or the inside out, or whatever fucking way makes sense to you. Honestly, it doesn’t mean a fucking thing, how this world breaks us. In the end, it doesn’t matter how a soul is ripped apart, because nobody has time to spare grief for another person's … Continue reading I’m only wearing these emotions. It’s all painted on passion, washed away during any rainy day.
Breathing in these embers, my esophagus melts like candle wax, and these things I need to get off my chest remain buried in my lungs. They fight for a release, so they worm their way through my veins. I can feel them crawling, a sick itch beneath my skin, sending my sense of touch into … Continue reading “This may sound obvious to some, but you don’t have to say that you’re okay when you aren’t okay.”
I hate myself. I hate everything about me. I hate my stupid hair and how I play with it so much, as if I could ever get it to look good, when I’m such an ugly monster. I hate my stupid laugh, because it’s loud and comes at the worst of times because I have … Continue reading 3AM is not the best time to write, but I’m out of pills and things to distract me. I’m letting the sound of my keyboard keep me company while I wait for everything to finally end.
I speak through my actions, louder than my words, Yet my words seem to scream off this page in a way my body never could. I write down the truth I’m either too afraid to verbalize or... No, that’s just it: a fear pays me well to hold my tongue, Demons, both real and living … Continue reading The silence carries with it weight; oxygen now exists in my lungs as heavy air, my throat unable to swallow such a solid mass, unwilling to give passage to that last breath, as I wasted it on words you never heard.
Do you want to know what it feels like? To be sitting in a waiting room of a planned parenthood, knowing that only a door away lies your girlfriend who is begging for the pain meds to numb her emotions as thoroughly as they have her body? For starters it makes you feel useless. You … Continue reading Every day I feel it, and it hurts, but never enough…I never feel like I’m hurting enough.
Slip past the guards, the listless bodies thrown haphazardly across any surface this apartment can provide. Open the gates, mindful of the squeaking hinges, remaining a shadow until the door is in the past. Do not linger, for that is how regrets are formed, and you have no strength left to fight another losing battle. … Continue reading It’s dark before 6, and these blinds block all light from the streetlights below, but I’m still holding onto the edge, buoyed by this tiny light slipping out from my lampshade.
https://youtu.be/WvJ8quslqkU Let's go back. Way, way, wayyyyy back, all the way to 2008. I couldn't legally buy cigarettes, gas was less then $2 a gallon, and waking up before 6AM was a thing I could do on a daily basis. Enter my first part-time job, creating a small surplus of funds which I promptly spent … Continue reading Music Mondays: Julia Nunes
Why would things have to turn out like this, huh? Can anyone give me an answer that would calm me down, turn my radical sense of self-loathing into a more calm, rational sense of mild self-hatred? I am aware; I am a creature of habit. I fall into the holes of life not because of … Continue reading Looking at the past, you want to take a broad brush to cover the whole damn sight; smear it that turncoat black, that obsidian shadow, that unholy, ungrateful, unashamed shade of a world without a sun. That past… what a waste of conscience that failed my heart when it was breaking in two.
That little light from your lampshade 