#spilled nik

[evanescentincinerator]

battle me bitch i’ll rattle your bones

dance with me please and i’ll burn your homes

moan in the moonlight making up names

show me that tonight we could win this game

sorry i’m slightly feisty flightily

pardon me but it’s nice to meet you finally

when you blink my heart will break

i think i may have made a mistake

[alittleaboutyou]

she doesn't remember you and it breaks your heart because that night in that stairwell at that party you planned each others lives but the plans were lofty and the drug too dense *

[heartfeltphrase]

I write things down; in lists, on my phone, in notes, mirrors and my hands. I try to remember as best as I can. But I'm beginning to think the ink spilling from my pen is my only impact on this world. You see, I keep poisoning my thoughts with the pressures of reality. And really all I want is to be young again. But who I am and who I used to be are not the same. The words I write now are not the same as the stories told in my sixth grade diary or notes passed back and forth in literature class. I've grown older. I'm learning that older and wiser are not synonymous. I'm learning now more than ever. 

[fifthdawn]

ricket

just wilt like you always do forget about the ivy crawling

, u p   yo u  r   legs          mobility         is less a concern          -more a luxury spring will come eventually;

right