| for all the thoughts and all the sounds. |
lazy broken fingers.oh, mother [all you wanted was for me to scream.]lazy broken fingers.
you always wanted me to tear you apart you wanted me to pull back my skin and unearth the memories of sins that wrapped themselves around my joints and begged me to retaliate against you
oh, mother [father always left because of you.]
you never understood that dust settles on my shoulders after years of standing loosely in dark closets and when i tried to leave you'd notice me and say who are little boys but their fathers, anyway?
oh, mother [you always liked to show me your favourite scars.]
y
collapse.this is not me. this a collapse and disintegration of my living tissue into the ionosphere, where i distort your radio transmission into the gentle static of me calling you home.collapse.
stop it, you say. stop the shame over shots of us in the subway station, where you simplify something sacred like it's small-talk. stop trying to stablize the severity of the situation. just let chaos reign. because we both know we can't function without disorder on our lips and turmoil under our fingernails.
for us there is only madness, like the time you told me i felt as dead as the summer in the cold winter air, and there was nuclear rea
| for all the thoughts and all the sounds. |
A 03
inner-vention, introspectivelyRemembering along the crease starting between my Thumb and index finger was the first time I was asked why I had a blue stain on my arm. I proudly said it was left by my birthstone, and meant that I had a right to breathe.inner-vention, introspectively
I swear my kneecaps were always scraped and dirty from attempts to live through my shoes that were always bought half a size too big.
Expectations to fill them must have made me want to climb trees when I was afraid of heights
Chickenpox scars told me I still have not learned how to deal with my self control
| |i am the space under staircases| |and the dust in sunlit attics on october| |mornings. i live in a world where abandoned barns,| |open fields and pretty words are essential to| |one's existance. i am a scholar of the sun.| and you may call me lucas. |
dust cares only for dust, and time only for us.
--
hailin from the edge.
--
our souls are nothing but light and sound
thank you so much for faving
"writing legends about love"
--
It’s a bit hard to love me when you’re dead.
--
our souls are nothing but light and sound
--
--abrianna.
[hope.is.eternal]
--
our souls are nothing but light and sound
--
I will move away from here
You won't be afraid of fear
No thought was put into this
I always knew to come to this
Things have never been so swell
I have never felt so well
--
our souls are nothing but light and sound
--
I will move away from here
You won't be afraid of fear
No thought was put into this
I always knew to come to this
Things have never been so swell
I have never felt so well
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