| the summer i turned eighteen i slept in gardens and smoked until my lungs turned black. and the fairies turned my eyes to sunshine. |


from where you areyou were always the first one to the top and the last one to look down. you said when your eyes were closed it felt like for a minute you were a balloon. holding your breath and floating, sucking clouds with your latex cheeks. and i know you lost yourself above the trees in the glare of the sun. it turns out your thin lips really couldnt hold your heart in.from where you are
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you never let anybody hold your hand and you wish your fingers knew how to curl around anothers and you wish your mouth said what your eyes did.
you said everybody leaves and everybody cries but you don't. you will throw y


will you cryi would love to live forever. stealing breaths from morning rain clouds and the babies that die under heatlamps- their thinthin lungs that couldn't stay inflated.will you cry
i would love to steal that smile right off your face and hold it between my fingers - rubbing your teeth like lucky pennies and smoking my cancer through your cracked lips.
i would love to sit beneath your window, with my owl-eyes held open all night and maybe stop your nightmares and stop you screaming yourself awake. i can be the demon in your head and
i can rot your brainflesh too.
i would lov


instructions on crashlandingi. for christmas i asked you to get me something yellow. like a sunflower or a new bruise,instructions on crashlanding
or maybe the underbelly of a sparrow. you bought me seven lemons and told me how you thought they were perfect for me -
beautiful and bitter. i left them in the sun until their yellow was all gone. next year ill just ask you for a card.
ii. yesterday you told me that i smoke too much and i told you that i was trying to burn myself down from the inside. i want to be flaming when the sun goes down and i want you to sift through my burntblack ashes and find w
by ~monstermagnet
by `girltripped
I appreciate it.
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my website [link]
my blog [link]
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please don't allow your voice to fade.
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I have a pocket sun boy
I\'m everything that burns in you...
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[kmw]
as it was meant to be - bokonon (vonnegut's cat's cradle)
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I'm the kind of person who sees meaning in a lot of things. Like squirrels.
but it seems ive lost my creative flow. or at least most of it.
--
I have a pocket sun boy
I\'m everything that burns in you...
--
I'm the kind of person who sees meaning in a lot of things. Like squirrels.
--
I have a pocket sun boy
I\'m everything that burns in you...
--
I'm the kind of person who sees meaning in a lot of things. Like squirrels.
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