writing is my therapy don't bully me
hello. I need a new apartment. Please buy this one. It has running water, electricity is working fine. sometimes the walls talk and tell me to kill myself.
By cookie foot6 years ago in Poets
For some odd reason, everyone lives as if the world revolves around them. Maybe it's social media, or maybe it's entitlement bred into our backbones,
my brain is killing me it's weird, one part of my brain tells my lungs to breathe in provides my heart with the blue prints
I belong to this earth. My lungs belong to the wind that fills them. My feet belong to the ground that holds me upright.
like all of the best addictions, you're killing me, and I'm loving every second of it. it's almost as if it doesn't hurt anymore.
My days are melting together my nights are never-ending -written after I met you I want to be an artist of words. I'm tired of being a sandwich artist,
Sometimes I just have to write. In a dull blur, it's a nice light. I wish I could just let the words flow, my brain moves so fast, my mouth so slow.
God, I hope I was something different. Something refreshingly new to you, in this mundane gray world. I hope I was Red,
It's not gravity that's been getting me down. my thoughts are a force that hold the totality of who I am to the cold ground of my anxiety.
I'm not going to pretend you care about me. It's too hard, I can't do it. But I don't know what else to do. I can't pretend that I don't care about you.