public diary of an attention whore

i want to be unconditional weakness.

i want to drink with you, stumble over one another, tumble into floor boards and counter tops.

i want to yell at you until you get it.

i want lovely bruises strung over me in the shape of your lips.

i want to ruin everyone else for you.

i want a love designed to tear me apart. you rip out my insides and tie them in knots

i want to crumble just to be put back together again, better and newer, hand crafted delicately and held with care. i want you to know how to fix me right as it all begins to fall apart.

i want people to see us together and say “oh yeah, they’re made for eachother” in a tone dripping thick with envy.

i want a romance akin to the movies i rewatch over and over. even better than the day dreams and the love songs. a romance even hollywood couldn’t recreate.

i want to be fine art, immortalized beside you as your worst mistake or your final destination.

i wanna know every single thing about you. even the things you chose to forget and i want to hold them all close and love each of them unconditionally.

i want to fall and be caught.

i want your mind to be my second home.

i want to be encased in your ribs. i want to hold my hands against your chest and feel your heart beat beneath my fingers. fall asleep to the rhythm and wake up to it. my own personal white noise.

i’ll be your own personal person. a chef, an artist, a knight, a flower, a corpse. something heavy to hang when the loose ends come up.

anything you want, need, imagined or dreamed of.

i want you to trust me with a knife to your throat and enjoy if it cuts. relish in the pain of my design. i want to taste your blood as i clean the wounds from your neck.

i want to be a prized possession best kept held close. i want you as dedicated to me as i am to you.

i want to be so close we’re practically one. i want our movements to mirror one another when we’re in two different places and we’ll never know it happens but always have the idea.

i want to share clothes, and space, and air.

i want to be held down. tied up and tangled with no desire to flee.

i want to sleep in your bed and see you in mine.

i want to feel alive. i want to be alive and i want to do it with you.

if only you knew how often you cross my mind.

i find it amazing how much will power i can develop over nothing

i'll feel my heart shatter, listen to the ear-splitting sound echo through my ribs
yet i'll still wake up tomorrow and try twice as hard for a singular drop of your affections
don't tell me no
please stop telling me yes
give me anything, anything at all

just amazing how i'll throw everything away for nothing

my fundamental flaw is my attraction toward mistreatment,
enter the race after it's already started
feel the pain of failure over the pleasure of success
the burn before the breeze
what's the point of anything if not to struggle in it's place?

i promised not to shed tears over this but, god does it hurt anyway

save your pretty words for somebody else and i'll grit my teeth through your poetry.

they write songs about this sort of thing,
and i'll listen to them on repeat to maybe dream about something worth while
i'll close my eyes and feed into my imagination and despise myself all over again when they reopen

god, why do i do this,
why do i do anything?
what's the point of any of this?
why do we glue pieces together just for them to shatter apart?
why do i pick myself up just to get knocked back over?

pulled apart and rearranged.
why can't i just be content?
why do i need more?
why does more ache so terribly?

i think i'll break those promises.
we'll get 'em next time.

- writing this miserable shit with the keyboard you gave me xo

all the flowers in my room have died

i’m eating sprinkles from ziploc bags and sipping on cold coffee

this world is full of opportunities yet none of them are for me

i wish i was made from wire so i could be bent into shape

the shape somebody else wants me to be

because if somebody else makes me, me

then maybe i could be loved organically

systematically checking on scars and checking down boxes

check ups and check outs

paper hospital gowns that fit like latex gloves

i belong to my doctors, i belong to my friends, i belong to my family,

i’m wrapped up in my own split ends and tangled to the root,

stuck between

a fascination for causation and never ending lines

pharmaceutical buildings and the war on living.

i often daydream about collapsing.

knees buckingly beneath the weight of nothing of much use
my joints creak at each step i take forward
with no support of sustenance, hollow holes only add to the things that drag me down
empty yet heavy, important unimportance of one's self
you may not find nourishment valuable, but the body doesn't know any better

sorry i was never the shape you wanted me to be
i am a conglomerate of orphan puzzle pieces loosely held together,
boxes scattered and long forgotten
a picture so ugly and contorted i can't even identify what i once was.

suicide is a double-edged sword
but what's the difference in the flames if i'm already in them?
an escape hatch to hell or another day's work

if i had one question for the big man above it would go as follows:
why can't i quit while i'm ahead?
if i made it an accident would you know the difference?

if my body's a temple, this one's in ruins
my deck's full of aces and my sleeve's full of tricks
a sleeve of kitten scratches and a drawer full of goodbye notes is all i'd leave

tattooed angel wings is as close as i'll get
i can only hope they're inked with enough conviction to fool a far-sighted angel
i'll hit my head on the gate but maybe i'll get to stay if i smile real bright
i want to sing with choirs and fit into halos
i want to be holy
i love my savior, but does he love me?

you can always tell when something is going to die,

when tired bones creak into place and settle there, shallow breath

animals hide in holes and corners, out of sight, out of mind, but we aren’t animals, so why hide?

the smell of chemical spray over the scents of decay, lining hospital tiles.

my heart is an ER victim and you’re a hospital bed,

uncomfortable comfort used to be healing,

now blood stains my sheets.

zip me up, doc. my time here is ran out long ago, if i ever had any to begin with.

i could never read clocks, i’ve been a minute late and a dollar short my entire life.

sometimes it feels like i’m the secondary character in your movie.

get the cameras away from me, i’d like to be alone now.

i said i’d like to be alone now.

i hope you understand how much you’ve made me grow to hate you,

and i’m still ever the apologetic bastard about it.

god, am i a bastard. your bastard, til death do we part.

bloody knuckles and battered faces,

until my bruised hands wrap around your throat and squeeze until

tidal waves of blue wash over your skin,

and i’d yell and scream about how much i hate you now.

maybe you’d finally feel how i feel.

i would kiss you if i could.

maybe the shapes around our necks still fit together as one.

don’t make me worse.

xoxo, with love.