♛

🖤🖤

[skoomastrudel]

Your place is not given to you,

you must take it and make your groove

amongst wolves.

They will treat you like sheep,

but you must bite them hard

and they will see;

you are not in fact a sheep,

you are the wolf.

- [r.s.g.]

[skoomastrudel]

You are my hands...

You paint the prettiest dreams

for me and for us.

I want to draw the lines

into the light

and through the darkness

with you.

I wish you knew that space

is not something I want

between us.

I want inside your mind,

deep behind those eyes.

You make me breathe...

I hate it when you leave me.

I want to be your hands...

This could mean everything...

- [r.s.g.]

[skoomastrudel]

If people never change,

then I was always this way.

It was nothing new.

It was in me

from the start.

There was something good inside

all along.

- [r.s.g.]

[skoomastrudel]

I shouldn’t be missing it,

wanting you after I erased

all of us.

And for some reason

the sleep grew your roots

back into me

and my face wet with tears

grew the flowers.

I thought I’d lost you

and it taught me

that you grew into me

so long ago

and these vines may have dried

but they left seeds behind

and I still fear losing you.

- [r.s.g.]

[skoomastrudel]

These things will only

fuel the fire that is you.

- [r.s.g.]

[skoomastrudel]

Ever since you sold

your soul to me

I see the pain

rolling off of you in

waves,

and you’re sinking.

You were almost me...

And I thank god I left my dream...

I can’t take it all away,

you’re going to burn up

along with me.

We’re in different pain,

but still

it’s a nightmare.

- [r.s.g.]

[skoomastrudel]

All I want is a day that tastes only sweet

and its night to last forever.

- [r.s.g.]

[skoomastrudel]

People will try and tell you

who you are.

You are the only one who has been

with you for so long.

How can they?

- [r.s.g.]

[skoomastrudel]

Why does my body

treat you like oxygen,

like water,

as if you’re something I need

to survive?

As if

after the third time

we met our hands together,

there was no ribbon to untie.

As if

we were instead a series of knots,

born to survive.

In pulling we grow only tighter.

We are woven

under our skin,

and life you may draw

from me,

but the bond

I formed between us.

And you love it,

and I love it.

When I’m near you

my body knows

that you have become

a part of me,

and so it will draw me to you...

-[r.s.g.]

[skoomastrudel]

  Where one lives and dies

    a space remains to remind

      that we need replacement...

        There is no careful consideration,

          it is simply shift of placement;

            where one lives and one dies,

              another will survive.

- [r.s.g.]

[skoomastrudel]

Writing is like bleeding onto pages.

It cannot be conjured on demand

without time to recharge.

It doesn’t have an endless supply.

It’s a calling.

It leaves you vulnerable

and it doesn’t care.

It bites onto you and you bleed.

- [r.s.g.]

[skoomastrudel]

  Put me away like before,

    on the back left burner.

      You’re a disease

        and you come to me

          because that’s my favorite thing,

            telling me secrets that nobody knows,

              and I don’t want to keep you,

                so don’t give me your privacy.

                  Just let it all burn out.

  I put you away like before,

    into the back of my mind,

      leaving you open for hours

        when I can’t stand to face you.

           I’m a disease

            and that’s your favorite thing,

              I tell you secrets that nobody knows,

               and I want you to stay,

                even when you push me away.

                 You will always stoke the fire

                   and I will always let you,

                    and it will never die.

                     That was the promise I made to you.

- [r.s.g.]

[skoomastrudel]

Building the empty.

   You don’t know about the hay bales.

      You don’t know about the lines of white...

         How I wished for my paints and brushes

            so I could capture this moment of my life.

  This is how I hope to remember youth.

    Under a night sky with yellow lights,

      these words spoken into night,

        and crying out as I bury my soul into 

          the earth along with you.

- r.s.g.

[skoomastrudel]

to m.d—from hangman.

Remember when you guessed “L,”

and I lied?

I know your fucking secret.

The one you hid in that painting

you made.

L.

-r.s.g

[skoomastrudel]

To m.d--from the bottom of my cold heart. Thank you for the life you breathe into me.

 I set myself free to breathe. 

   For a moment, I drifted through lives

     and through dreams.

       Voices of mine reminded me

         about the one night I hope to forget,

           and another week I hope to forget,

             and another song I hope to forget.

               I turned their words into murmurs.

  With the release of my breath,

    I found that I was not in fact free,

      but I was encased in these bounds

        like woven threads.

          I sought peace,

            and instead,

              what I found was temporary.

  But this was not discovery,

    I was seeking what I already knew.

      I was allegiant to myself,

        but my devotion was to you.

- r.s.g.

[skoomastrudel]

to m.d.—from living somewhere new, and almost a week after your birthday. . . . . these sheets and these walls are colorless. You are the color in my mind, and with my eyes I paint you all over this room. - r.s.g

[skoomastrudel]

to m.d.—from the night I found what was once lost. . . . . it’s your possession of me that you try to hide, but I am seeing with clear eyes. I am your addiction, and you are mine. - r.s.g.