I sound like a crazy person

Enter the worn down wood

Scars visible from the fire that’s been preached inside,

Creeping up to the perpendicular white planks.

In an attempt to speak with the man with holes in his hands,

Faith walks out.

If you don’t believe,

You have nothing.

Shame knocks on the door,

Reluctantly invited in,

Spilling stories of how your childhood failed you.

Your mother tried to teach you…

Pushed aside by biting rage,

Criticizing the ones who’ve tattooed abomination

On your soul.

What makes you better than me?!

Desperation crawls in,

Takes his place,

And weeps to any bystander:

I need to be saved.

There’s a moment of quiet before logic appears.

The pretentious air seeps into open pores

As he hisses into your ear

I am right.

As you rise to exit the sacred shelter,

Looking back at the towering cross, he mouths:

Nothing to believe,

Nothing to lose.

Lifeless eyes, yellowed

By stains false hope has left.

Pupils dilated, resembling stones

Thrown into the reflection of the sky

To see how many times they could skim the surface

Before plummeting to their demise.

Giving looks that pierce the skin,

With its needle sinking

Into the unexposed blue,

Pumping through shriveled tunnels,

Excreting the burning venom into the weak

And vulnerable.

Lies that cut through flesh

Congeal into limbs,

Reaching out to grab anyone willing

To fall into the web spun from

Suppressed anger and guilt.

Lurking in the dark,

Waiting for an approach from an ignorantly kind heart

Wanting to save; offering salvation.

Only to be deceived by a pyrite smile,

And desperate yellow eyes.

Milky black construction paper

Punctured with needles,

Letting light shine through the holes

Onto the face plastered with a look of biting desire.

Fatigue pulls on eyelids with ropes

Parting the red velvet

As the film reel starts rolling.

Crystal projections pour on the paper

With visions of new beginnings

And ivory smiles.

But the smiles melt into a half moon

As the hands from the dirt

Interrupt the daydreams

With violent claws

And stinging screams

That you are needed here.

Time to spam cause I feel like sharing it

Cause no one reads what I post :)

So it doesn’t matter

I try really hard to pretend it doesn’t bother me when you don’t reply to me or talk to me all day cause you’re busy and whatnot

I just wish you would take maybe 45 seconds of your day to let me know what you’re doing, let me know that you’re okay and stuff. But after we got in countless arguments about how I want to talk to you more than you want to talk to me and I’m too clingy or whatever, I told you I’m okay with just good morning and goodnight. But that’s a big fat lie, and if I tell you you’ll just rub it in my face and get angry at me.

I just wanna know that you want to talk to me; I wanna know that you’re thinking of me.

I hate being a girl. Why can’t I have the emotions of a guy?

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Whyyy do I love you so much

Probably because you’re kinda cool

And a nice person

And you’re cute

And you love me too

So

yeah that’s probably why

(Source: swaggazzz)

Everything feels inferior.

I haven’t posted anything or even been on this site in months.