The next time I read a fucking poem about how it’s beautiful that I can’t get out of bed without panicking
Or I have to chain smoke a whole pack of cigarettes so I don’t cut open my skin and bleed all over the pavement
I’m going to punch someone in the face
My sadness isn’t beautiful or poetic
Quit making my tragedy into nothing.
Quit erasing me.

Sometimes I wake up
Wondering if you ever
Loved me.
Were my hands too cold to touch?
I know you always said you liked girls who could warm you up.

I could have told you
Waiting for a car to crash full force into your fragile body wouldn’t make you feel better
It’d only make you dead.

If you do not breathe through writing, if you do not cry out in writing, or sing in writing, then don’t write, because our culture has no use for it.

The role of a writer is not to say what we all can say, but what we are unable to say.

ONLY THREE THINGS GET ME OUT OF BED
CIGARETTES
COFFEE
OR HOT SHOWER SEX
IM GETTING NONE

I can’t even talk to you
I just want to kiss(fuck) you

sinandserotonin:

I should probably redo my blog

can’t I just hire a teenage girl to do that for me

I need a secretary inquire within

perks include having me not hate you and I’ll make coffee or something

Let me do it
I’ll make it all pretty and ~hipster~

(Source: luxmendax)