I’m in love with the melodic sound of your voice, though I’ve yet to hear it in months. I lust for the words to slither from your serpentine tongue, to fly out from your mouth, light as a feather. I will never know that voice again, I will never know the devilish touch that felt so angelic.

There is no difference between the eyes of a killer and the eyes of a pacifist, we all are animals, poised for the kill.

There’s a photo that I took of us once and in it, you can see me perfectly. I am in your arms and I am smiling, as is usually the case whenever I’m near you. You can see sheer contentment…no, sheer joy in my face which is normally so twisted and contorted by anger and hurt. You, however, are blurred. Though you were smiling and it was clear, the way the picture had blurred your smile looked reluctant, if not completely fake. As I examined it more I realized that perhaps this is the most symbolic thing I’ve ever seen, it showed the truth or at least the truths I’ve known. Despite my own reluctancy, I have always been the one strong and steadfast, loving you unshakingly and irrevocably. You, over the years, mostly due to the fact that I couldn’t show my love and give all I could give have faded away from me. You’ve taken on my own reluctancy, we have changed in each other.

destroy everything you love before everything you love destroys you

It is a constant grumbling in the stomach of my mind. I am thirsty, begging for a drink. I am hungry, starving for passion and affection. I am living this life in a fast lane, a lane of depravity and occasional shame but when I am filled with these things, my mind no longer restless or wanting, then I am content to continue along the path.

Steal my heart but don’t release my tongue or the truth will run rampant, my confessions of love will never be stopped. Sweet sincerity, the sweetest and most disgusting kind, will pour from my ever-appreciative lips. Do not get too close to the truth or it will swallow you whole, and the fact is that the truth is a terrifyingly dark place.

I feel a rage growing inside of me, white hot and fuming. 16 years have passed and I still have not uncapped this bottle of frustrations. I have tried to ship it out to sea with my secrets, madness and pain encapsuled. Somehow, the stream always finds it’s way back to me. The water always rises and brings my bottle back to me. I can feel it surfacing, bobbing like a buoy, with every slight annoyance. I can not hide from skeletons forever or they will pull me in to the closet with them, by my ankles, they will pull me in and they will lock the door.

(Source: lostwordsspokenagain)

— 2 months ago with 607 notes
(Source: pattyp66)

— 2 months ago with 390 notes
(via kristacular)

— 2 months ago with 1463 notes
DAY SIX:

Today was a lovely day. I’m loving Burton, which is suprising me. We had stretch class in dance this morning and it felt remarkable, although I could hear all sorts of bones n’ whatnot crackin’ away. Algebra was good, I’m so glad I have the class I do. English was okay too. Then I secretly saw my friends after schoool…can’t tell how I feel about some things but whatever. I’m just annoyed that my internet is working, but I got a chance to write in my classes today. I’ll probably be posting them soon. I’m starting to feel really different…it’s a long story.

— 2 months ago
(via c0rpsewhale)

— 2 months ago with 23450 notes
hellyeahdavidbowie:

who ever took this is very lucky !

(via shotsofbrandy)

— 2 months ago with 41 notesThis divulgence of truth, truth and love is earth shattering for me to give. I wait with bated breath for any whisper of reciprocated feelings as your mouth gently peels itself apart, giving way to your words coming out so slowly but each filled with a fist, a fist that drove itself in to my gut with a force, a driven force that made an undeniable impact. I could no longer hold my breath or hold back my genuine and explosive emotions. I thought I would fall to my knees, maybe cry, but I only let a smile spread across my face. Despite feeling like I had showed more emotion than I had in years, the truth is that I wasn’t, because I knew. “I love you,” you said to me. The world seemed to have been lifted off of my shoulders but suddenly, instead, a weight was put on my heart. You see, lies are a terrific, terrific thing for a time. They are something to hold on to, they are plugs to fill your cracked heart. However, lies are lies. Lies will ultimately destroy you. Those cracks and holes will never be truly filled or fixed, because what is broken cannot ever be fully mended. When it comes to lies though, they will be torn apart like the seam to the shirt he once used to rip off of your body with what you thought was passion, when it was only lust for skin, lust for some kind of attention they felt they were lacking but were entitled to. Lust that you thought was love, love that was never real. So lies…are beautiful, they are beautiful but devilish creatures.

What invades my soul is suprisingly not the injections of love and warmth that I receive daily from this home, this family, these people, like medicine. What invades my soul is helplessness, hopelessness but I do not feel like a victim. I’ve never felt like a victim. In the bottom of my soul, I knew this storm was coming even though their forecasts were so vastly different. This thunderstorm is deserved, the calm before it should have given it away.

As the tears roll down my face, gently carress my lips, the year roll through my mind, pull at each string inside of me. I am reminded when I wake in the morning and the does not shine with the same vibrance, I know; when music is the only thing that floods or temporarily washes off the pain, when music brings on the pain with each exceedingly relevant lyric. I am awash, drowning in a sea of senseless grief. Senseless only because I will continue floating and despite my greatest wishes, the visions I see in my head and pray to become reality simply are not to be and will never be. You will not sail out to sea, and if you do, it will not be to come after my lost soul, simply to see the world. You are free. You were left free and I was left in this state of perpetual madness. No one is going to come after me. When the tears make the ocean higher, my head will slip under. I will try to claw myself back to the top, as though I were stuck in a grave…ironic only because I am. I will look up, at this mess I have made, the mess I allowed you to make of me and I will let my body sink with my dreams and you.

(Source: imgfave)

— 2 months ago with 586 notes
(Source: youaresimplygorgeous)

— 2 months ago with 669 notes
(via likeacoffin-fit)

— 2 months ago with 125 notes
(via l0veitaway)

— 2 months ago with 139 notesAs her eyes scan through this dull room, vacant, she sees nothing of interest until she finds your face. Her eyes find your jaw, firm and masculine, and then your lips, soft and sensual. She begins to scan your face and, were she truthful with herself, she would admit she is looking for your flaws. She searches, her eyes could have memorized that face. Flawless, she finally admits. For a split second, she dreams of a future. She dreams of holding that gentle yet manly hand. She imagines your strong arms wrapping themselves around her delicate but voluptous body; finding their way down until the tips of your fingers meet the end of her shirt and you tenderly pull it over her head. But before she can continue with that beautiful fantasy, she realizes that it is never to be. For you are a vulture in this hierarchy of students, and she is a carcus. You will look her over, you will pick her over and perhaps those hands will meet that skin but those hands will be rough. They will be too hot. And while those arms may be strong, but they will be strong with violence and wanting rather than passion and longing. There will be no sense of admiration for the body in front of your ravishing eyes. You will simply act, with an heir of greed and entitlement.

In the cold nights of fall, though not nearly as frigid as winter here, I see him outside my window. I wonder how long he has been waiting there, with blood shot eyes, a serpents tongue, and these claws which each year seem to be sharper, longer, deadlier. He waits so long to see me, he tries so patiently to claw his way in to my room each night. I hide myself under my blanket, as if he is the boogie man out to get me, as if I am five years old again and all I have to do to be rid of my problems is hide under my beloved blankets. I know what he is now though, and why he only comes at this time of year. I do not greet him with welcome arms, only because he still is such a terrifying creature, but I guess I was too.

Thoughts race. Blood pumps. Veins pulse. Mind reels. Skin shakes. People need people. I need you like I need water, like wind and sand. Addiction is a lifestyle. Change is needed. Thoughts stop. Decisions come in to view. Options are many. Scared is often. Blood drains. Veins are blue. Skin shakes. I need we, like the sea longs for my soul.

Today I looked at a picture. It was a picture of you and me. It looked so old, although I knew that I wasn’t. I still think about you, I still remember that so vividly. But it’s like I’m looking at someone else’s life, it’s almost surreal. That girl looks just like me but I don’t recognize it, at least not compared to the ghost in the mirror looking back at me. These eyes are dull, and almost sad. Those are full, full of life and it’s wonders, full of your scent and the feast of passion and love they thought were surrounding them. I am a shell, monotonous and frozen, glassy and dilated. The truth lies in the smoke, the smoke and the mirrors…and the photograph.

Love has become such a far off idea to me, warped by confusion and loss. The past is the past, but the present is just the cycles from the past perpetuated.

The cold weather brings me back to the past, like a wind picking up photographs left out in the grass and blowing them my way. In each one, there you are. In each breeze, I see you. With each rain drop, I feel you.

I have no faith anymore and I want that so badly to inspire me to move, to inspire me to live and prosper. Instead though, the most strength I have is to maintain this smile, and when I’m alone I find the srength to cry. That’s all I find in these misty hills and dark pathways.