In dark corners
Devil on my shoulder smirks
Revenge taste better
My pencil tip breaks against the paper.
Its almost as if -
No. Ignore it.
I forgot what I was writing. Gosh this is fucking patheti-
I start gritting my teeth at your silence.
It’s so deafening…
The ringing goes straight to my head
And I just cringe
Ball myself up
And just throw myself awa-
I can’t fucking get it righ-
I use to be many things.
I would watch colors
As they glided throughout the sky
And streamed into head,
Then right onto paper.
My hands turn to fist as my pen turned to into a knife
These canvases were no longer art
They were murder scenes
And red was the only color that made sense…
I watched my veins raise and turn gray
My mind overflowed with shadows
My passion die.
Shrivel away, and become hate.
And I’ve never been more scared.
she is my poetry…
So she never
I find so much,
To eat my words.
|—||Alex Turner (via channeigh)|
Gasoline on paper
Tracing the curves in your name
You to life
Through fragile veins
I feel everything
That I am
of goodbyes we said every night
they would outweigh the hellos.
If I let time slip through my shaky hands
I may take what we have for granted.
There are days I feel you’re an illusion and
will disappear in a puff of smoke
leaving me to crave a cigarette
because you are nicotine and
whiskey shot straight into my veins.
The truth is, you are my only addiction.
Some nights, long after our goodbyes,
I taste whiskey on my tongue and
smell smoke on my skin.
I just wanna lay at your feet the way Mary did to Jesus. I love the sound of a poets voice. It’s an enchanting experience . Grant me my wish ;)