There’s nothing inside me I hope you never find
Find me, a mess unable to mewl.
Find me paralysed to reconcile the ever-conscious seat of myself, immune to the wailing in my head. Find me in uncertainty, crawling for your truth. Give it to me as I sob. Give it to me, mutely grateful, watching the barrier fall. Find me when I posses no more words with which to mourn.
Find me as the breath overwhelms me with joy, when I cannot speak the thank you in my bones. Find me at the zenith, the penultimate pain, when I most need your love.
Give it to me in my utmost darkness. Give it to me when I cannot find the beauty in myself. Give it to me because you cannot do otherwise.
Give it to me in the knowledge it is threefold returned. Find that which terrifies you. Know its ugliest design.
There is nothing inside me I hope you never find.
You made me question myself at a time when I was healing from some pretty intense damage. But we didn’t talk about that, did we? No, we made mardi gras out of your endless emotional fuckery. I have to take responsibility for that, because I allowed myself to become involved in your pain as a concept, without giving my pain the respect it deserved.
The asp doth dance and sway.
Black scales flicker
Like the glittering void,
Closing to constrict my throat
And coil about my heart.
To bind me, vicious fangs strike deepest there.
Seeping poisons of emotion and deceit.
I’ll learn to miss you, then
the blood and the bruise
We’ll get on with it,
our lives scarred
in the places where
they touched each other.
Death made Time so it could grow the things it would kill.
A little Witch
There is just a little
witch in me
i/have been with you this whole time
my eyes may have strayed
like a back alley tomcat
but my heart knows its way
(to this peculiar home
built in forbidden thoughts.)
Our love comes back (to me)
at the strangest of times
in the laundry/in
the back of a highway cab
or as I walk on a morning
marred by the kind of
impotent, grizzly rain/i
felt on my cheeks during the
winter of - disconnect -
This is the way the marble turns/i
open my eyes before you do
go to sleep before you do/&
in this way, I have always been
in your future.
Me, and love.
What is it
when you look at something
and you know it’s going to hurt you
but you do it anyway?
I’m not talking about
that is almost too elegant
I mean when you fool yourself
that it won’t hurt
I can do this; I can handle it
and you honestly almost believe it
What is that?
Well, that is me, and love.
Wow, old school moi.
I wish to paint the universe with you
Court your mind with ink and quill,
Capture stubborn archaic sorrows
Grind them to passion, grit and will,
Want our laughter to shatter dimensions
Coaxing tongues to lilt and luster,
Tripping over serendipitous wit
And unravel mysteries, those that fluster,
To dance with you around halcyon rhythms
Melting beneath sensations of your smile,
Shall we laugh in the face of misoneism?
And line up ambitions, single file?
Know that your eloquence quickens my pulse
Stirring something daring and wild within,
These thoughts racing, beyond inflamed
Tethered to an intrigued grin,
You, who stares fearlessly into darkness
Gripping something deep down under,
Impaled by the depths of your eyes
'Tis all I can do to risk being torn asunder.
Submitted by regurgitatedrebellion.
I wouldn’t know how to find you now even if I wanted to. I cut that rough-hewn cord so hard the past shattered in apology. When you think about it, there’s a beautiful, twisted symmetry in that.
Remember how I made fun of you when you were here for drinking cappuccinos like a weird Sydney person? And how I’m mentioning it again now to publicly shame you?
Ahh, good times B. Good times.
Anonymous asked: where r u from in sydney?
I am from Melbourne. Home of superior coffee.
Anonymous asked: r u straight?
I’m approximately a 2.5 on the Kinsey scale.
mister-selfdestruct asked: A goddess stealing air from mortal men; eyes that thrust spears into hearts that beat only to feel that perfectly singular pain. Lips of pleasure defined by words of rejected affections by those who blew their brains out only for the opportunity of putting the slightest physical impact upon those black high heels. We throw ourselves upon the violence for a chance to see a glimmer in those eyes, and I would push a motherfucker over to die inside that gaze. My fate rests upon your tongue.
I hate Mondays.