dustwings's profile

He's telling you to just talk, to let the words flow naturally and spill out of your mouth like drops of water. You mentally correct his statement to say "drops of acid" instead. Every time you try to explain something to him a part of you is eaten away. He doesn't seem to understand that when you clamp your mouth shut to keep the caustic words from pouring out you're also doing him a favor. Corrosive sentences hold bias towards no one. But, if you can no longer talk, then he no longer has a ...

between love and lost, i wish i could remember what i was thinking that day because it seemed like a whirl of endless colors and lights and the water in my eyes making my hands wet and your shirt had little drops on it. you were drunk when you wrote but the words meant as much to me as they ever did and even though you are sometimes smarter than i am, i'm okay with that. i feel like i'm crunching numbers between my teeth and getting nowhere with the powder through my nose, cutting like littl...

someone swallowed me took me into their veins like a drug and got strung out on my words (apparently) i didn't mind in fact it soothed me to know that i was worth this that i could be taken wholly you spit me out didn't like the taste bitter and barren and too bold for your tongue but all i wanted to be was robust and a concentrated version of myself but i guess it was just too much but someone swallowed me and down down down their throat i slided and tumbled and fell to the pit of their stom...

there were nhilist clouds sifting through you hair like sunshine only like drooping stars hung on your wall with glue and tape and the flies thick in the air like summer's heat or lovers' breath at night you said that your fists could break your words unless you wanted to crawl inside my skin and stretch upon the bed as me curling up against the wall like a scared little child again what i was last year, less than a year ago i was foolish i was reckless and wild and i said i felt free but i h...

gunpowder makes my nose bleed she says. bruises on the underside of our chins, strange markings like vodoo paint on our cheeks, red blue black gr e y. my right foot suddenly turned left she says. unglamourous shrubbery, those weeds on the bank aside the road. what i choose to dispose upon you, will make you cry. your hands shake with shock but your body feels like it's burning with a heavy heat even though it rains. she says that sometimes these things happen, get over it, it was okay, you'll...