the marrow of my bones asks for its drinker  the prints of my fingers asks for its collider the eyes beg for their faucets to close  the skin is wilting without its lover  the hairs on my body are the sunflowers that seek for their God the sun.  this soul

A diary entry

This just a bunch of crap you don’t have to read. I am so lonely that I make up conversations in my head. I don’t look people directly in the eye in fear that they will find out. And I, sincerely am incredibly lonely that I don’t know how to


You can stop trying to love me  you are free from my claustrophobic confines  I’ve unchained you from myself  brushed off my fingerprints from your crevasses and I’ve handed your soul back to you  no more holding my sorrows for me  no more kissing my forehead  no more holding me 

Dead and gone

I want him dead I want him gone  I want his limbs ripped by a midivil cartwheel  and his still living torso burnt to ashes  I want him gone  I want the thread of thought that  leads to him  get eaten by a tape worm  may a whale swallow him

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