(to treat her like a princess.)

lachrymose, i carve the horrible blade into this.
sparks my tarantism in light of all this.
    [...and so i waltz with Suicide...]
familiar symptoms: deuteranopia pulls at my eyelids
  [my vision crawls--]
as my breath begins to fall.

okay, okay, i'm coming clean--
i feel sorry when i pretend to be me.

taciturn, i deny my chance to believe.
i deny--i deny--



















FUCKUP. DISGRACE.

asicarvethesewordsontheinsideofmyarm--
    [LOVE IS NOWHERE.]

"all i wanted was for someone to love me."
  simply because...
LOVE DOESN'T EXIST.

cigarettes & a few drinks
never felt so alive as tonight
...never felt the pain of how it is to have
over 180 degrees of air that is
okay to breathe.

    hold me Suicide,
          cradle me in Thy dark grip--
for if Devils are the result of
  PAIN/FEAR/HATE:
so now they become your twisted Gods

    [!!!]

pour another drink and empty the names.

  ...

to this Life
i could never heal,
[a choice to feel--
one slice to kill.]

and how desperately she needed Christ,
yet you cast her away.
this is a call for every one of you
// TO WRITE LOVE ON HER ARMS. //