old veins

andy, 20s. is this called living? or something else?

[inferior]

Right place, right time. 

[modelsof-color]

Alek Wek by Mario Sorrenti for CR Fashion Book Issue 11

[apocryphics]

robert frost, home burial

[ofnationalgeographic-blog-blog]

[blasphemousangel]

[twofears]

parasite

newborn blood coursing through old rusty veins to a mind ticking slowly to mindless morse code pains of glass-like bones shattering and collapsing within i’ll breathe only when the air breaks through my skin

i’ve been the same since i was taught how to frown and lock my heart in an iron maiden of my own bones every muscle fighting the urge to look down i don’t feel like drowning but i’ve eaten nothing but stones

my skull shattered across the kitchen floor pulsing thoughts staining the cracked white tiles i’m a blood filled lighter in a gas filled room at least you get to make it out in time

i sit beneath my head with my eyes fully shut with a thousand deaths burning down in my gut just waiting for my stomach to take flight let my body remove the parasite

i’m right here but i might as well be gone light beams seem to miss my glass cage yet my shadow always faces the sun i just hope i’ll be me again someday

[twofears]

sugar

i dread taking my face off at the end of the day because then i have to see the face of the one that i put to bed with self violence the one i subject to things i’ve been taught but warned to never consider conditioned to think it’s different when the knife is aimed inwards we all know what it takes to break someone open

it feels like i’m the only one that’s dirty even when i clean my wounds up every time i have to open my eyes it’s like peeling a bandage that’s long overdue to get changed yours is soaked with a palette alike a summer sunset; reds, oranges and pinks but mine’s just grossly sticky with a mixture of tears and dried up blood bits of turf still stuck underneath my skin but it’s not the soil that’s tarnished me, it’s me who tarnishes the soil and when time comes i know it will reject me like i have plastic skin and glass bones and spit me back out

a walking open wound that tears further and further with every step and with each breath i take more and more of me seeps out and stains everything that tries to make contact it makes me want to drown in hydrogen peroxide and let it dissolve me away maybe that’ll make me appear like i was instead made of sugar like i always wanted to be

[infected]

Exploits Islands, photo by Peter Gladstone

[kiwibomb]

please like or reblog if you save it! 💭

art cr: @mofu_sand on twt!

[destroymylife]

[infected]

Verona, Italy, photo by Federico Quaglino

[danger]

[especially]

[compulsive]

[kalories1-deactivated20140523]

[ethertune]

[winterfellis]