I'm just here
Sitting
Being
Music playing louder than my thoughts
Am I aware of it all?
I'm aware that of what I should be doing
crying, yelling
but luckily noisy messy tears aren't for me tonight
I'm just gonna sit here and forget
Remember to forget what's happening outside my door
I don't want to tell you
Or to talk
Thinking it through won't help
I want to loose myself in art and poetry
I want to turn my imaginary tears into something beautiful
Beautiful and angry
I want to create and design and yet here I sit
Still.

Move and hurt and space
Hating me
Feel emotion surging through my chest
Is it the music or my beating heart?
I've reached a blissful nirvana when I don't even know anymore
Listening to Fall Out Boy, Sisters of Mercy
Singing along and writing
Not thinking
Lyrics go in, a jumble of words tumbling out of my pen
I'm not making sense
None of me is
But I'm quite
Happy
Happy to be lost

This is really bad poetry
I can't think of words when I can't even get Hippie Sabotage out of my head
(my playlist has move onto indie rock)
But I'm enjoying my bad poetry
Pretending it's art.
Ranting a lot about nothing silently
I could get to the point
Or I'll just ramble on about nothing forever

Neon girls and baggy jeans
Worn to the knees on hot days
Like icicles in our hearts
I'm so sad

I have no more nothing so here goes
They're fighting again
I'm so calm
And it's all falling down
I feared for my fathers life for the first time today
Properly. The thought crept into my head before I could stop it. Instinct. So I knew it was real.
I feared for his dead eyes and his angry hands and his fragile heart

I'm scared for my mom and her burden of past mistakes
I'm scared for her happiness

I'm not worried for me.  
I don't think my heart is fragile,
and my past mistakes are just teenage dreams
after all, I come alive in change and dramatic situations.
I will deal, when it comes.
I just wish I knew when
And what, exactly

Perhaps eavesdropping wasn't the best plan
But I want to know about what will happen
She wanted to know if it was any of my business.
Well yes, Mom.

I'm fine. I want everything else to be fine, but it's broken.
I'm fine though.
Just fine
Lost in my own bad poetry.

Stars in dust wasteland,
Seen once, every seven years,
Desert flowers bloom.

I do not like this phase of a heart break.

When you purposely avoid love songs,
Or sometimes you play them just to make yourself feel like your hearts still pounding.

When the person you loved and hid from every waking soul is brought into a conversation.
Or when he isn't.

When you see other lovers who have made it years without the cruel hand of fate ripping their love from them.
Or when you see they haven't.

When you notice him writing you smaller, casual messages when they use to be breathtaking and beautiful.
Or when he doesn't write at all.

When I ask you if I am pushing you away and you say no.

"Alright, happy birthday! Text me later tonight?"

"Will do"

When every hidden goodbye ends with those two words. And my broken, belittled heart.

(i. r.)

Your name isn’t real and I’m sure I’m the only one who can see that
If it was, people would be able to see pride when you identified yourself
Instead they see a combination of letters behind a wicked lie

Your name isn’t real and I’m sure I’m the only one who can feel that
If it was, when those men touched your name tag, it wouldn’t be to touch your *******
If it was me, I’d press on your heart so hard, as if I could force that fake name into your chest

Your name isn’t real
because if it was it wouldn’t be so rehearsed
while the rest your of your words sound pained and hurt

Your name isn’t real
that name is cherry flavoured ice cream
when you taste of *** and candy

You’re not real
nobody I’ve met has smelled like
Nature and Chanel No. 5
at the same time
No woman I’ve met has
wore a smile
when she wants to die
but you exhale cigarettes
through your mouth
letting death go
yet smelling so alive
There’s no such thing as
a girls tears who have
the scent of innocence
when she’s ******* that many guys