7-18-16
You're a sick, black tar
Coursing through my arteries
Slowing my systems
You use your words right,
You're practiced,
It makes me fucking nauseous how you crawl
Inside of my head and
Know exactly what to say.
You linger on my bedsheets,
You soak through them.
Your stupid fucking smile and
Your stupid fucking body language
And your stupid fucking promises
Will fuck me up.
I know what you do to girls like me,
And I'm a goddamn whore lately
But I'm so lonely.
I guess I know she's getting what she wanted
From another body,
Am I to do the same?

The echo of my lies shatters the mirrors,
In a house full of hurt,
You won't find love here
My mother told me not to play with glass
I didn't want to hurt myself
That mindset didn't last
Hanging off the edge, holding onto a rope
The ropes slipping
and I haven't got hope,
I think i dropped it off the deep end
With the demons that I swim with,
I call them my friends
Why is that?

You're so toxic,
Yet so tempting.
In my head I know it's not worth it,
That keeping it quiet
Won't keep it from happening,
That I can wash you from these blankets
But you're still weaving through the fabric,
You're still on my skin
You're still on my skin
You're still on my skin
Suffocate me,
Do it, I dare you.
What else would you want to do?

Fuck you and your damn lies,
Fuck you and your damn bad intentions.

It's firey, it's hot,
And do i care if i get burnt?
Because we know that's how this ends.

God, sometimes I wonder how I made it this far
And sometimes I wonder how the fuck my life ended up like this.
Nonetheless,
I wouldn't trade it for the world.
I just wish you were still mine,
So I'd only slide my shirt off for you.
But what happened happened and these are the circumstances we've been dealt with.
Turn the fucking page,
Use as much ink as I can today.
- (m.m)

It's hard to tell who I'm writing about because the bodies have come and gone, and I've done so much wrong, the blood is on my hands, why am I worried about staining everything I touch? I asked for this.. yet I find a way to ruin your white shirts and good intentions. In the back of a car with bass you can lose yourself in, I smell like alcohol and bad memories. And I only downed one of those tonight (it didn't come in a cup). Eyes like daggers, scents like the trigger of a gun, touch that's ice cold in hot atmospheres. My phone's lighting up, drunk texts filling my messages. The room is too dark to keep my eyes open, yet I fight to do so for some reason and wasn't the light on five minutes ago? Hazy sunrises and disorientation. I don't remember slipping into sleep's embrace and the last faint events don't click yet (nothing does, like puzzle pieces that weren't meant to be together, i shouldn't have thought I could make the picture myself, but all I can do is accept it). I don't take a drug that makes me dig at my skin but thats what you do to me, and I'm still wondering how that is. I'm wasted on intellect, they're wasted on bodies, I never meant to intoxicate someone like that. I used to listen to music when i write but I can't focus as easily as I used to- I haven't been used to sleep deprivation in awhile.
- (m.m)