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Description
:҉ ~♥~ ҉

1.
I have noticed that runoff is a pathetic and sad subject to think about. How can you take away nothing? There is something about negatives that makes the cockroaches in my chest slowly bend out my rib bones and make me look like something you could call beautiful. Beautiful, with my black and blue heart pulsing against the air, trying to breathe. Everything inside of me has been improved. Exchanged. I am now filled with better, I do not feel better, do not believe that I am anymore of a lady, of a wife and a bitch and lover, of a cook, or a blister than I was before.

2.
Watch the greenhouse effect. We're burning bridges, burning hearts, we're tearing away the novelty of this town and painting it something besides red. Anything besides red. I do not want to be responsible for moths flying out from your eye sockets, for your windows to be dirty. I want to wash the dirt from your windows, I want to peel back the skin of your face, the layers that are you, and see what's really inside. I wish I could say that I don't trust you, I really wish I could. I trust you too much, with your watchdog eyes, with your bristling hair, and bared fangs. I trust you too much with myself and not enough with yourself. This is a sad world we live in, a sad world we've made.

3.
I wish I could master the art of living, of painting a masterpiece to hang on our walls. Something that I could be proud of, unlike so many other things in this life. I can only let the waterways unblock for so long, can only lie to myself as long as you're willing to lie to me as well. It is harder to stay than to walk away, as I am suddenly learning. I would rather have the dandelions ripped out of my hair by you than not have them ripped out at all. Maybe if you weren't the son of an abusive father, of a mother who's lost too much. Maybe if you didn't care as much as you do. Maybe. Maybe if I knew how to be angry like you do. Maybe if you could make me angry, maybe we'd get somewhere. Maybe. MAYBE. I will try to shave off the tear streaks from your skin, try to unprint the footsteps dug into your back. If I can't do this for you I will not expect you to forgive me but I do hope you'll understand that some roots are planted too deep.

4.
There is resilience in your eyes. It floats around like it does not know where it wants to rest, as if it is too weary to care where it will rest. There will always be aching somewhere, there will always be pain in something, for something, there will just always be pain for pain. All that there is to life is living. I wish you could just live. I wish. I've thrown so many pennies down wells, I've wished on so many shooting stars. I wish I was a believer. Maybe if I was a believer something would come true.

5.
There is nothing more to life than existing. It is cold and broken existing.

:҉ ~♥~ ҉

Description
:҉ ~♥~ ҉

1.
I have noticed that runoff is a pathetic and sad subject to think about. How can you take away nothing? There is something about negatives that makes the cockroaches in my chest slowly bend out my rib bones and make me look like something you could call beautiful. Beautiful, with my black and blue heart pulsing against the air, trying to breathe. Everything inside of me has been improved. Exchanged. I am now filled with better, I do not feel better, do not believe that I am anymore of a lady, of a wife and a bitch and lover, of a cook, or a blister than I was before.

2.
Watch the greenhouse effect. We're burning bridges, burning hearts, we're tearing away the novelty of this town and painting it something besides red. Anything besides red. I do not want to be responsible for moths flying out from your eye sockets, for your windows to be dirty. I want to wash the dirt from your windows, I want to peel back the skin of your face, the layers that are you, and see what's really inside. I wish I could say that I don't trust you, I really wish I could. I trust you too much, with your watchdog eyes, with your bristling hair, and bared fangs. I trust you too much with myself and not enough with yourself. This is a sad world we live in, a sad world we've made.

3.
I wish I could master the art of living, of painting a masterpiece to hang on our walls. Something that I could be proud of, unlike so many other things in this life. I can only let the waterways unblock for so long, can only lie to myself as long as you're willing to lie to me as well. It is harder to stay than to walk away, as I am suddenly learning. I would rather have the dandelions ripped out of my hair by you than not have them ripped out at all. Maybe if you weren't the son of an abusive father, of a mother who's lost too much. Maybe if you didn't care as much as you do. Maybe. Maybe if I knew how to be angry like you do. Maybe if you could make me angry, maybe we'd get somewhere. Maybe. MAYBE. I will try to shave off the tear streaks from your skin, try to unprint the footsteps dug into your back. If I can't do this for you I will not expect you to forgive me but I do hope you'll understand that some roots are planted too deep.

4.
There is resilience in your eyes. It floats around like it does not know where it wants to rest, as if it is too weary to care where it will rest. There will always be aching somewhere, there will always be pain in something, for something, there will just always be pain for pain. All that there is to life is living. I wish you could just live. I wish. I've thrown so many pennies down wells, I've wished on so many shooting stars. I wish I was a believer. Maybe if I was a believer something would come true.

5.
There is nothing more to life than existing. It is cold and broken existing.

:҉ ~♥~ ҉