eight days to 20

I am so scared. 
So afraid of failure, 
of obesity, 
of someone looking at me 
in repulse and disgust, 
mortified to find 
the blemishes on my skin
and even more repelled 
by the open sores 
of my heart.

I'm afraid of being misunderstood,
understood perfectly, 
being laughed at for being 
eccentrically extraordinary, 
and at the same time in my hovering frame, 
traditional values are the bones
that make me, I'm afraid of being boring
and old-fashioned. 
I'm afraid of that rancid undertone in your voice,
laced with scorn,
when you say, "It's okay, I understand. 
You don't have to if you don't want to."

Sometimes I wish I could skip out 
on parts of life altogether;
much like an acne-scarred, 
buck-toothed, 
fat, 
bulimic, 
awkward 
tall girl 
wishes 
she could skip out on high school. 

But where is the fun in that? 
Relief is only momentary, 
temporary 
and solitary in such things, 
and 20?

20 is coming my way.
Whether I like it or not.

broken strings

Let me hold you
For the last time
It's the last chance to feel again
But you broke me
Now I can't feel anything

When I love you,
It's so untrue
I can't even convince myself
When I'm speaking,
It's the voice of someone else

Oh it tears me up
I try to hold on, but it hurts too much
I try to forgive, but it's not enough to make it all okay

You can't play on broken strings
You can't feel anything that your heart don't want to feel
I can't tell you something that ain't real

Oh the truth hurts
And lies worse
How can I give anymore
When I love you a little less than before

Oh what are we doing
We are turning into dust
Playing house in the ruins of us

Running back through the fire
When there's nothing left to save
It's like chasing the very last train when it's too late

Oh it tears me up
I try to hold on, but it hurts too much
I try to forgive, but it's not enough to make it all okay

You can't play on broken strings
You can't feel anything that your heart don't want to feel
I can't tell something that ain't real

Well the truth hurts,
And lies worse
How can I give anymore
When I love you a little less than before

But we're running through the fire
When there's nothing left to save
It's like chasing the very last train
When we both know it's too late (too late)

You can't play on broken strings
You can't feel anything that your heart don't want to feel
I cant tell you something that ain't real

Well truth hurts,
And lies worse
How can I give anymore
When I love you a little less than before

Let me hold you for the last time
It's the last chance to feel again

unnamed

this feeling is inescapable.
its in the tips of my fingers,
its in the roots of my hair.
it burns in the palms of my hands,

its everywhere i go,
and nowhere i can't see.

its in the way i walk,
like ice cracking before an avalanche,
or the tingling feeling before the flame hits,
it poisons every string and fibre of my heart
and crushes against the soles of my feet.

its the blackest river that creeps into a virgin stream.
the only sedative to chain the only dream.
its like cocaine.
taking over my blood.
it steals my senses.
no, it bought them over.

i gave in.
with all my knowledge, and my values.
i gave in.
with all my faith, and my religion.
i gave in.
with all my complaints, all my fears and worries.

even if the universe blanketed me in all the stars,
even if the galaxies gave me their immortal colours,
even if the sun burned me down to the shred of an atom.

you'd still see it.
you'd still be able to see the words painted in red, across my face.
i'm on the other side of the line now.

you were never a victim. 
you have fallen.
climb from this bottomless pit.

its called regret.

the special ones

in the middle of all the action,

the lights go off,

and they flicker.

suddenly everything becomes a scramble of limbs,

a snapshot,

a glimpse,

gone.

those are like the memories with you.

with all of you.

digging deeper into the closets of the incubus,

i find that all that i clothed myself with were

the shadows of a life worth living.

the reflections in the mirror

should be worth seeing face to face.

yet, i'm still so confused when it comes to you.

to all of you.

attraction, it's predatory on the rational values of my soul,

it encroaches on the private borders of my mind,

it brings me back to edge,

it tapdances on those lines,

drawn out in chalk,

they're fading.

i'm trying not to seem shifting.

where's the concrete to lay down the slab

on my chest, on my feet, on my hands,

on my heart.

letting the city swallow me.

keeping myself from the everchanging,

still, my mind runs too fast from the cage

it knows too well...

there isn't any life after this hell.

"hell is a state of being" and being in love is "glamourous hell".

let me know when you're being genuine.

when you're really in love.

because all of them felt the same,

so either i'm fickle, or i'm really good at lying.