weird little flow-of-consciousness thing
there are strings that connect me to things—
silly string, hot pink and sticky—
gotta stop living in the past. It doesn’t deserve the flattery.
prom queen, mom jeans, I hated being sixteen
stimulant-shaky hands in my pockets remind of when
my pockets were full of sugar-free gum wrappers and
whatever the opposite of happiness is.
but now it’s just my hands and I like it better that way.
he just gave her his coat.
I had distracted myself from him be saying he had no redeeming qualities
but he just gave her his coat.
We all have our own little styrofoam shields;
love songs are cringe but then again
maybe I’m just a cynical teenager.
maybe I do still romanticise self-destruction.
always the first one to go and the last one to speak
Go ahead, call the cops
what the hell.
3 things behind my ear: glasses, hearing aid, mask.
Been sleeping in my clothes & not showering
calling it freestyle.
sleep paralysis as a preemptive measure?
it’s like I’m trying to get kneed in the balls
i’m no bloodsoaked superhero
just someone who once tried to be.