The other day I mangled my wrist open to find the vein. It didn't work. And yes, that was pain redefined. Obviouslynotpoetryjustkindofreplyingtoit.

I really hope your wrist is feeling better because that’s just the kind of pain that shouldn’t be experienced. And poetry is just experience painted in edgy words so stay safe beautiful and maybe get in my bed *lifts covers seductively* there’s iced coffee and sock monkeys for anyone who gets in here.

Today in class I held my pen,
cheek pressed against my arm
on the desk.
I stared at my wrist and wondered
if I could spread apart
my veins
with that same pen.
Could I place it inside,
stretch the walls thin,
like a too-small glove?
I then discovered that veins do not
have nerve endings, so the action
would not hurt,
but to mangle my wrists open
and locate the vein
would be pain
trains of thought

send me your poetry/requests


Sober and back from school and I just took in how many poems I wrote last night. That must be a Poetry Night record and I can’t even understand half of them. I feel like I could spend a really long time trying to interpret some of the hidden meaning in those lines but i’m too lazy for that shit. I’m also too excited for the acid & shrooms tomorrow to do any of my assignments (I am going to fail my classes horribly and not make the grades for college, let alone university, yet I seem to have lost my fucks to give in a savage storm off the West Coast).

My friend/drug dealer texted me and the plans are a go! I’m really hoping this works out b/c most stoner plans don’t so please pray for me darlings, pray to the drug gods that her supplier doesn’t get hit by a car or reach slow as hell. God the anxiety is a bitch, but I am so looking forward to this; and all the shitty poetry it will bring.

She’s ecstatic and blissful, and bloated with charm and overnight she hacks it up and becomes a hollow and shallow tree stump with no regards.
I got bored and wanted to play around with rhythm and sound (via artificialvalue)

Shut up shut up because your simple words are like a scream that scratches at my shoulders and burn my eyelids as I squeeze them tight because covering my ears has never worked.

I lied when I said I would work hard because I don’t believe in today and I can’t stop saving it for tomorrow so blame my lack of motivation but I will never get this done by today.

Don’t cry when things fall down and your back is broken by the rubble because I told you a long time ago that there were cracks riddling the foundation.

Fall asleep in my arms and then maybe it will be okay and maybe the sun will stand still today.

Read until your eyes fall out of your skull and then trace brail until your fingertips numb from frostbite and then listen until your ears burst from pressure but never stop taking it in.

People only have faith out of nessescity because if no one had feared death then no one would need an afterlife so it is one thing to make death messy but it is an entire other to make death clean.

I can’t do anything but blur my vision so fuck your prospects because I am not the first deviant.

Breathe into the skin of my neck and wrap a palm around my arm until it snaps and leave bruises ranging from red to indigo across my clavicle and write my name with your tongue until you can recite my past from memory and clench your jaw after we kiss before I crush it beneath my hands.

Fuck me when you can feel things with your soul instead of your skin and forget nostalgia when the impossibility of going back is irrevocable so keep on lying though your teeth about a future but fuck me when you can’t feel through your skin.

Don’t touch me I am raw and my skin will stain your fingertips red as I burn from the contact so don’t love me either because then we will both burn.