Smell B4 Rain @itsall4us-blog - Tumblr Blog

my highs taste yellow and I don’t think I need to cut myself anymore. “my girlfriends jealous because I talk about you twenty four seven”. twenty four seven. twenty four seven. that’s a lot of time. but it’s still not enough. wish I didn’t kiss you at all. wish I didn’t miss you at all. my head works like a computer. they say I get lost in feelings. I don’t believe in feelings. there’s just bits and pieces you need to put back in place. it’s an awful lot like a treasure hunt. no matter how much of yourselves you rip apart, if you don’t belong. you don’t belong. im picking up a lot. but never enough. there’s always something missing. just a little too much but not of what I need. I’m not sure what I need. I’m a little bit of an addict. I don’t need to cut myself anymore. I can’t get enough. the cup never seems to spill. it’s not much of a thrill. my ghosts have a place on the dinner table and my skeletons made their way to my bed. do you remember when I gave up. I think you were poisonous. some chemicals just don’t mix and you weren’t into explosions. read my coffee cup. there’s a better chance the moon will love you back than he will. flip my cards. it wasn’t you, I promise it wasn’t you. you shined too bright for his eyes. no one should love with glasses on

itsall4us-blog

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glossedoll

my baby💟

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live fast die young

glossedoll

I hope there’s a musty yellow wooden chair in heaven with your name carved into its legs and I hope it doesn’t wobble when you sit and your thighs don’t blister I hope you drink iced lemonade and there’s grass to lay in I hope you never get another mosquito bite ever again but I hope theres mosquitos everywhere because everything deserves an ounce of belonging I use to think you were my angel and that I was your God I learned just because we get our wings doesn’t mean we get our halos At night when your eyelids shut and your ears stop listening I thanked you for my voice It may not be as delicate as hers but I could make words dance off my tongue and flowers grow in my hair I hope you remember that we still have a sun and it still shines even when the moon is out and the sky frowns I hope you understand that I still love you even when I’m not around I hope you know you have a heaven and I’m in the back yard painting our wooden chairs musty yellow, drinking lemonade, carving in our names

glossedoll

I can’t explain. I would paint you a picture but I’m not good at holding brushes and it gets annoying picking dried colors from underneath your finger nails.

When I want to tell you,I end up forming a fist and knocking it against my chest.

Most people think it’s cause I don’t know where to place my hands. There’s too much room in here and I’m still not able to find a place to rest.

I think it’s because I want to see if anyones home If anyone’s been home lately If there ever was a home

I can’t tell you what bothers me because I don’t know and no one gets that. I don’t get that

The friendliest place I’ve ever been was bright blue and there were clouds and lullabies and angels whispering my name.

It wasn’t the sky It was my room A place to rest

It was where my dad held brushes and picked dry colors from underneath his fingers nails. Where he shaped clouds onto the ceiling and gave them names. Where he sung lullabies.

On days he would form fists and start knocking at places that weren’t empty, on bodies that bruise and he thought we would still come home.

Thats when the Angels started whispering my name and saying that it’s okay to be afraid.

The scariest place I’ve ever been was bright blue and there were clouds and screaming and demons chanting my name.

I wish it was the sky I wish I could rest

When I tell you I’ll form a fist and it’s cause I’m finally afraid

They said go home. No one screams anymore we’ve all lost our voices.

I don’t know how to tell you but I use to write letters on the closet floor some nights because the Angels stopped whispering and I thought they were too scared to speak.

They never wrote back.

I don’t know how to tell you but just because there’s demons screaming from under your bed doesn’t mean you shouldn’t go to sleep. They’ll loose their voice. Pretend they’re just dried colors and you’ll pick at them in the morning

The friendliest place I’ve ever been use to be bright blue and there were clouds and lullabies and Angels whispering my name. This I know how to tell you, now it’s nothing but a cruddy coral color filled with boxes and “rescue me” notes written on the ground.

One day it’ll be apart of the sky and we’ll all sing lullabies and no one will have to whisper my name

glossedoll

sweet 16 ♒️

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🏃🏼🏃🏼🏃🏼

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pool of blood

glossedoll

most of the songs with out titles are often the ones that make the hair on your arms stand tall and still you father whispers in your ear stand tall and still lift your chin walk like you own the place you own the place I mean I guess the artist wasn’t able to find the right letters and punctuations to be able to describe the sounds that are given out all the notes and altos how many feelings you could put into a hum They ask me if you were my boyfriend I say I don’t know what to call us I placed you in a caramel colored folder in the back of my closet between my insurance bills and paper work marked untitled They ask me if you were my boyfriend and I say you were so much more than that or maybe I just feel shitty I live off of rose colored memories so fond of them everything seems to be turning red my arms my eyes my eyes my arms I do all my crying in the light of day sometimes I need to prove that I’m a person too and what’s more real than blood and tears I have a few hobbies: smoking pot, crushing glass, going on such long walks that i get lost A sane person would call them bad habits I call it personality traits I’m real nasty I mean I hate it when there’s dirt under my finger nails but yet i admire it I’m into the gross stuff they call it a fetish I like to believe every blade of grass has feelings I like to believe every blade gives you a feeling but that’s not always the case there’s lawnmowers and tissue boxes awfully different things but they both help to keep things pretty we all wanna be soft on the eyes don’t show anyone your storms, we all have our own I like the idea of getting shipwrecked with you it helps me believe that the universe wants us together somewhere far and quite and beautiful you’ll admire everything but me sounds a lot like high school most of the best movies don’t have ratings we often can’t categorize the good things in life but maybe that’s not a good thing maybe it’s just to say no how matter how close you get to me we’ll always be so far away

We Couldn’t Seem To Get Close Enough (via sparklyclit)

glossedoll

I don’t like my voice I think that God placed my cords and strings in my chest instead because every time I try to speak I ended up crying he says hi I say I’m sorry he says how are you I say I love you he says goodnight I say please make it be people tell me that when I talk it sounds like a choir I think it’s because Gods playing his music through me constantly changing the records we’re all just notes some of us instruments making sounds DO - when you brush my hair out of my face and tuck it behind my ear RE - when you kiss my cheek and tell me I’m pretty MI - when you slide your hand up my skirt I still don’t like my voice but it sounds awfully good when I’m talking to you he says sing for me FA -when you put your hand in mine SO -when you bite my neck LA -when you pick up the eyelashes off my cheeks I think God placed my cords and strings in my chest instead because every time I fall in love I feel a lot like a harp I’m beautiful even if no ones playing me you need to know where to place your hands and how to hold up your back I’m just another sound in the screaming not much of a melody if you ask me SI -I don’t think I’ll tell you this one write your own song

The thunder is just god yelling at his angels for flickering their menthol cigarette ashes into his forsaken ocean killing every single one of his creations The thunder is just god telling your father to put the bottle down The thunder is just god because sometimes he gets mad But most of the time the thunder is just thunder and there's no bottles left to put down I say that raindrops are fairy dust and we hold our brightly colored umbrellas to let them know we're already magic To protect us Just one pitch could make you fly he tells me and you're not ready to fly he tells me I say put your wings to use They're worth so much more than being a fan for your highness There's nothing high about this All I've been doing is getting high so that the thunder could be god one last time and the raindrops usually turn to IV bags attached to my arms but Hey maybe they're filling me up with fairy dust the least I could do is pretend because I've got no friends left and it's starting to get to my head Maybe there is no God The little man in the TV tells me not to cry That'll it'll burn my eyes He doesn't know that I've become fond of that feeling He doesn't know that tomorrow the sun is gonna come up and we'll put away our umbrellas It doesn't mean we aren't magic It just means we're already protected by our God He tells me he's scared to fly I tell him It's alright

glossedoll

The thunder is just god yelling at his angels for flickering their menthol cigarette ashes into his forsaken ocean killing every single one of his creations The thunder is just god telling your father to put the bottle down The thunder is just god because sometimes he gets mad But most of the time the thunder is just thunder and there’s no bottles left to put down I say that raindrops are fairy dust and we hold our brightly colored umbrellas to let them know we’re already magic To protect us Just one pitch could make you fly he tells me and you’re not ready to fly he tells me I say put your wings to use They’re worth so much more than being a fan for your highness There’s nothing high about this All I’ve been doing is getting high so that the thunder could be god one last time and the raindrops usually turn to IV bags attached to my arms but Hey maybe they’re filling me up with fairy dust the least I could do is pretend because I’ve got no friends left and it’s starting to get to my head Maybe there is no God The little man in the TV tells me not to cry That’ll it’ll burn my eyes He doesn’t know that I’ve become fond of that feeling He doesn’t know that tomorrow the sun is gonna come up and we’ll put away our umbrellas It doesn’t mean we aren’t magic It just means we’re already protected by our God

He Said He’s Scared To Fly (via sparklyclit)

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