growing up southern is being chased with a branding iron for saying fuck as a child
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@tommyisgoinginsane
growing up southern is being chased with a branding iron for saying fuck as a child
“how did you get into writing?” idk catholic guilt and beautiful women
me (stoned) with you on an incredibly dangerous carnival ride (the ferris wheel) explaining to you prophetic visions i’ve had (advanced astrophysics) to keep myself from throwing up from nausea (real)
your 20’s are literally just a series of “@&$!!” and “!?!?!?!?!?” and “!!!!!!!!!” and “…” and sometimes “:3”
the day i wake up without a sense of impending doom it’s over for you fuckers
“how did you get into writing” girl nobody gets into writing. writing shows up one day at your door and gets into you
the amount of beautiful poems ive thought of that have never left my brain and have been completely forgotten is so incredibly tragic and makes me want to sob
you people need to realise just how beautiful you all are. you may have done shitty things in the past but all of your experiences have shaped you into who you now are, and i’m sure that version of you is gorgeous.
sometimes i truly wish i could meet my father when he was young just so i could deliver him the most infertility-inducing kick to the balls
i love the trope in poetry/songwriting where the guy just pretty much compares his boo thang to god because tbh same
17 is such a good age. now it’s two years behind me, but a memory
WHY DOES LOVE NOT FEEL FUCKING NATURAL TO ME!!! I GET THAT I’M SEVERELY MENTALLY ILL BUT A FUCKING CHEMICAL IMBALANCE SHOULD NOT HAVE TO AFFORD ME RUIN! I’M ALMOST TWENTY! NEARLY TWO DECADES ON THIS EARTH AND WHAT HAVE I TO SHOW FOR IT! SAVE THE STRAY SCARS THAT WILL NEVER LEAVE ME!! I SPRINT TOWARDS THOSE WHO CARRY MALICE AND THE ONES THAT DON’T I GET BORED OF THEM!! I WILL NOT BE MY MOTHER’S SON. WHY DOES LOVE NOT FEEL FUCKING NATURAL TO ME!!!
why stare at me when you can kiss me
dear god, how could i
how could i sit and watch you burn
i don’t want to hear you tell me how it is
dealing with wild forces
i’ll snag one of the old man’s horses
you’ll always be claws against my face
and a fear i could never trace
there it goes again
waking up later, the beds become my crater
to trek through a fantasy
through calamity
what if i could be there this time?
alright?
we went through it all
now i go through alcohol
screaming down the lane going 125
my sweater still smells like you, it’s burning my eyes
and you wonder why you always left me speechless
i was thinking which flowers to pick from the field
i went through it all
now i go through alcohol
sink in my bed, i gasp for air
leave things unsaid, leave our souls bare
dirtied hands, strung out
“string bean,” cocaine
self inflict, self inspect
worn down, worn out
my rage, your kindness
it’s not a sign to stare
it’s a sign to kiss me
for you’ve laid my spirit bare
your honor my client was clearly on the verge of tears
a sweater too hot for summer
actually, the sun is the one who gazes
whilst i dream
i’m terrified to sleep in darkness
for you i could fall, yes
but i wouldn’t call the dreams lawless
after all, if there’s a rule
there’s a fair chance i’m the one who came up with it
it’s not a matter of if i stumble, it’s when
how could i not
it doesn’t mean i won’t find a way to blame the jet lag
i’m wasting away
in never ending nightmare
accompanied by your calming voice, and the moon
hey guys so i was just wondering when it all ends
no matter what happens to me. at least im not fourteen.