prophecy...

And now I have to face up to this; I have made my bed, and now I have to lie in it. 
You watched me and you did not realise, but I only have myself to blame. 
Shame.

It didn't have to be this way, but I made it so. 
Again.

The self fulfilling prophecy perpetuates.

when the moon...

....grows acidic to the eyes....

“My parents spent over a decade with their
fingers intertwined, serving as a shield for
one another to take cover behind when the 
world threw punches that could crack skulls
and shatter spirits. Over time, their grip
wavered, thus resulting in what their hearts
once housed so delicately to vanish.
I was born into warm arms, welcomed into
a house built by calloused hands that were
later used to grab at throats. My heart soon
grew exhausted of the crass insults thrown
off of tongues like blessings and instead
shut down, constructing walls in order to
deflect their brutal sting.
Comfort came to me in the eyes of someone
who made a monument of my broken body,
who healed wounds on my wrists like they
were mere paper-cuts. I stood on cliffs and
they pulled me back by the collar of my 
shirt, spinning me around and forcing a kiss
upon my lips that caused me to hug the
ground my feet stood on, promising to never
try and leap from it again.
But time causes people to grow bored and I
was not an exception to its cruel ways. 
I never saw those eyes look at me with wanderlust
overtaking them at the sight of my form, nor
did I ever understand what was wrong with me
to cause them to walk away. I thought I could
do the same too; they made it look so easy 
after all. So I let myself become a drug to 
addicts whose veins I never wanted to flow
through but it gave me purpose, so I continued.
I’m not sure if I’ll ever feel comfortable in
someone else’s arms again.”

zeff wolf...

night...

night-
the time when clock slows down
the time when he let himself drown
the silence that filled the air
the silence of his beats

night-
the time when the clock runs wild
the time when she let herself rise
the song that sharpen the silence
the songs of her cries

-khad.h

neruda...

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets. 
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day 
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps…

dont fall for the boy...

“

Sometimes he gets to know your mind in attempts to know your body & that is the worst kind of boy there is.

You won’t know he’s poison until you kiss him so fuck it, if he’s gonna take the air from your lungs anyway, kiss him like you’re drowning.

You will be tomorrow.

He’s going to ask you to write him a poem with your fingertips on his bare skin, don’t do it.

He’s gonna take the stars from the sky & pour them in your favorite champagne so it’ll never taste the same when you drink it without him, drink it anyway.

He’s going to drain the happiness from your veins but you’ll find it again.. one day.

You’ll tell him your secrets & when he stops talking to you, you’ll feel them spill from his lips, don’t you dare regret it.

He’ll tell you you’re beautiful with his hand on your thigh, he doesn’t mean it, he just wants to dim the light in your eyes.

He just wants to conquer you. And he will.

Don’t feel used. He needed the love pouring from your body more than you did, you won’t be empty forever, love is infinite.

”