My first thought, the scariest thing about it, initially, was the thought that after one wash or two, the sheets, the pillowcases, well, no longer would they smell of you, and that, was a sad thought, sad enough to make a man, go mad.
she made a remark about the pleasantness, of my cologne. i looked her up and down, laughing softly under my breath and said. “don’t be fooled pretty girl, it’s there to mask the scent of stale cigarettes. sweat. and cheap booze.” her eyes caught mine and they rolled back into her skull. she took my … Continue reading Scent.
Ruminate on all your misdeeds, shortcomings and why they all leave, you’re a miserable fucking cunt, an abhorrent and spiteful drunk, with a penchant for breaking pretty things. You can’t even look at yourself in the mirror, no drink strong enough in the world to help swallow that fear, that you’ve known the truth about … Continue reading Pretty Things.
I need you in a way I don’t fully understand, you let me back in only to send me on my way again, but this time the pain is far more palatable, you see this time I can’t feel anything at all, and I so desperately wish that was me being over dramatic, but as … Continue reading Nice.
Why does it take, reaching the bottom of a bottle, or a line off the table, to feel anything, anything at all; why am I hellbent on destruction of everything good, I come across; what is my obsession with the fall; where did it go wrong, when did I veer off the beaten path; when … Continue reading Floor.
I am a virus, an infection, a disease. You say you hate me, you don’t know what hate means. I loathe myself, my core and being. An inclination towards destruction, to tear apart everything beautiful at the seams.
It makes no sense, to feel the way that you do, you had everything you wanted, but you kept seeking something new. You did it to yourself, the blame lies only with you, you threw it all away and for what, to find something new? Look at yourself, take in all that you’ve done, destroyed … Continue reading Blame.
i hate writing these shitty, garbage fucking poems. wish i never met you, i would carve a hole in my skull cut out my mind and go simple. but it's deeper than that it wouldn't help me forget. you are a plague on my existence, my skin crawls when you are mentioned. through no fault … Continue reading I don’t.
A Man is not supposed to cry, but I just cried until I lost my vision. A Man should be able to control his anger, but I hit the wall until I lost feeling in my fingers. A Man would stop drinking when he's had enough, but I just poured another and my glass is … Continue reading A Man.
i exist in a haze of grey, yet still i seek a brighter day, i won't stay lost in this sea of shade, i'm moving towards a brighter day, i caught a glimpse of a greener pasture, down the road but it exists, that's all that matters, even if i have to wait forever, to … Continue reading Meadow.