A feather

She's hovering on crows wings,
Drunk, strung out,
A real mess of a thing,
The worst of the moments comes out,
Hair scraggaly and eyes a cloud,
She smirks a little and chuckles,
Watching her blood drip to the ground

This post!

This is my 30th post :3
I feel all proud and junk.

Uh....

The Knife;
I'm having another one of those nights,
An aching, blinking, over absorbed sort of night,
The kind where I sit in scilence and think of how I've done wrong,
The kind where I feel the air is like sandpaper on my skin,
I'm always shaking anymore,
This pricking feeling in my eyes won't leave me alone,
I've lost my will to sleep,
And to feed,
And I'm not quite sure what I'm going to do next,
It just another close and open of the eyes,
Hoping the next second won't bring me to the knife

Another letter...

Dear Ian,

Even though we talked about this before you signed out (:'( )


If you leave town this weekend, I will be forced to grow to normal person size and dropkick your father for taking you away...

With that said, and with everything I have in me

Love, Rachel


Poetry?!

This could be the last,
Stupid romantic poem,
Giving the thing a name,
Is like a silly form of agony,
"Thinking of you" Shouldn't
Make me feel foolish and
Forgetful, cuz
Someday I know you'll be Leaving
And it's pretty goddamn vital
for me not to cry, and it's silly,
That I would defend you,
With my life if I
Had to, cuz I lied,
every second I didn't spend,
Telling you I love you


(is a girl with an anniversary coming up, can you tell?)

You may say I'm a dreamer...

I think my feelings or extreme joy, and complete numbness are really the same thing..

It's a sliding scale of how far away I am from a total breakdown.


The same peak to the same mountain of horror...

The things she's not

A fighter, a lover,
A well-behaved girl,
Special, or lovely,
Or even some one of note

The things she is,
Are so great and terrible,
She'll never give them name,
But to shiver, at the mere thought

Tell me you love me...

Sometimes I feel like you don't love me..

Or that you love me like a mundane, ordinary thing.. Like pizza, or your favorite show...


It's not someone else you worship like I want... It's your own ideals....

A bolt

Leaving my lips lingering...


Hanging on the edge of a whimper....



You're not here....