Huks905

Racing thoughts and my fingers lag behind them Hover over my keyboard not moving fast enough Bad habit compilation bitten nails and brittle hair And smoker’s cough I don’t have a good excuse for all my failures But between courage and anxiety Anxiety has always won And it moves beneath my skin and crawls and slithers Dancing snakes around my neck forming a knot And I might not make sense to those Who are sunlight kissed and sugar-spun Because my words are made of something bitter But what better explanation can I give Than blackness only blackness Burrowed deep within my soul?

He pushes her down Onto the floor Says "I want you And nothing more" His tender smile's gone And she's pleading She's crying She's scratching his neck And she's saying "You were my friend So if you leave I'll forget" His voice is reassuring As he pins her down And his hot whispered breaths Tell her this is her fault "Look at the monster You've made me become -my only redemption is the depth of my love So let me love you In this sick, twisted way And defile the same idols That have led me astray" And he does And the bruises he leaves Stain under her skin And she blames herself For his sin For a long time But not anymore

His hands are shaking, I don’t care that much… I’m trying to focus on his voice but I’ve lost touch With my reality Is my face arranged like it’s supposed to be? I don’t think I’ll say the right thing though there’s not A right thing to be said My mouth opens, I widen up my eyes, The words that flow right after feel just like lies It must be hard, but I accept you, and the darkness That you carry deep inside He seems placated, I am scared My heart is steady in my chest My tongue is lead-like and my brain Is stuck five sentences behind, analyzing What’s deep within my mind I’m very

It’s like I’ve been holding my breath ever since I was fifteen -I’ve been suspended in the spaces between- The silent separation of words and sentences and more Growing up, I always looked at the last pages of a book first Because I needed my happy-ending fix, my reassurance My ever-after to ease the pain of the unknown At twenty, I know better- this book doesn’t have a good ending And, well, I’ve read it, but I’m just so tired of pretending I’m alright With this halting narration and meaningless plot. I want more. Only more.

I don’t know what Grim looks like- I’ve never seen his face. His voice is always muffled, and there’s something forgettable about his bizarreness. It’s as if...his appearance is so shocking your brain just refutes it as soon as he’s out of sight. “Alone in the park again, Mary? Isn’t that a bit strange?” The sombre, clear voice startles me. I stop doodling on my notebook and lift my gaze up. “Wait, you’re calling me strange? Do you even realize how fucked up that is?” Grim takes a seat besides me on the bench, removing his black top hat and placing it on the floor. His platin

Today, I saw a homeless man at an intersection. He was old, dirty, crooked-looking as he balanced himself on some crutches. His limbs were heavy underneath layers of worn-out clothing- tattered sweaters, and a bright blue jacket dulled out by dark stains. His skin was leathery, and his hair was a muted brown. He had very dark eyes. I think he might have been around fifty years old, but who knows? I’ve heard the streets can weather you down and age you up. I stood in the crowd, waiting for the lights to change so I could cross the street. The man stopped his awkward advance right before reaching the sidewalk. I’m not exactly s

His lips are pink and bright against the pallor of his face. The corners of his mouth curl upwards, slightly, in a smirk. The dim lights above me do nothing to ease my anxiety; they cast eerie shadows across his face, sharpening its contours. “Stop fidgeting”, he says quietly, so I have to lean forward in order to decipher his words. His indigo eyes rest on the skin of my frantic hands, like bruises. I reach for my drink nervously and swallow as much alcohol as possible, hoping it will help me relax. The burning in my throat crawls downwards slowly, soothing me a little. “Did you miss me?” That’s the first ques

As a child, I was enthralled by moths. The way they circled the light made me think of dancing angels. I eventually managed to catch one, and in my curiosity, I decided to dissect it. The blade of my knife slid gently over its abdomen, slicing it open. Carefully, I removed its insides and after an hour of labor all that was left was a lovely carcass with feathered wings. It wasn't until after it was done that I understood. Dead things are not beautiful. A moth's corpse cannot dance with fire. Still, I kept the small insect inside a box until the wings turned brittle and crumbled into dust. Ellie reminds me of it. Everything about her is

I feel very strange. Almost like I am two people at once. I am present, of course, walking hurriedly. My calves ache, my breath feels awkward and halting, my hands are cold and rough. My skin is heavy over my body, almost like a mantle. I am far away too, though. I am so far within myself that I see nothing, feel nothing. Only blurs of colour, and snippets of sensations. The grayish clouds remind me of my own skin- they make me ponder about how, perhaps, the city is suffocating underneath it. The thought unnerves me. If the city is alive, then does that mean I am a cell? Or a parasite? I glance around me, at the skeleton-buildings. The ar

The days are blurry. It is like watching the scenery pass by through a condensed window. Blink once and an important detail is gone so fast, you won’t even know you missed it. Except for the melancholy. The melancholy reminds me that I’ve let something precious slip through my fingers. But not anymore, I vow. I glance around the bus, trying to capture every detail in my mind. If I look hard enough, maybe I can force my life into focus. But my resolve does not last more than just a few moments. Just until I see him. Then everything fades once more, receding into the monochrome background. He has very dark hair, and very light