until i want to
stop
injecting my veins
with poison and pretty lies
no one will stop
me.
my arm is a canvas
and i draw bruises on it
like art.
i will stand
on skateboards
and sit on your
shoulders
and ride the waves
until they will
carry me away.
i never liked
the ground anyway.
it is the place
i land
when all the things
i hold on to
let go of me
because they do not
hold anyone.
it is always
cold.
i like flying
too much
and crashing
even more
because it reminds me
that i was in the air.
is it a crime
to find broken things
so beautiful
that you want to
stay broken?
About the Creator
Sara
Don’t look for love.
Be love.
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Masquerade Party
At six feet seven inches tall and approximately two hundred fifty pounds, Samael presented an imposing figure when he walked into a room. His physical stature may be impressive, but his demeanor is the opposite. The shy, some might say, reclusive personality that he developed as a young boy followed him into manhood. His favorite job was crunching numbers in a quiet one man back office of a fiduciary firm. He was always polite, greeting his fellow workers with a “good morning” or “good afternoon” as he walked to the back of the office where his little hideaway was located, but never tried to engage in conversations.
By Mark Gagnon2 days ago in Horror
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