What if I said to you that the earth wasn’t supposed to taste so very sickeningly suggestive – and that the people who we meet don’t mean to be so very terrifically forgetful?

Here she sits, a bolstered, red-ribboned mess, insignificant by way of her own self doubt – mindful numbness alarmingly personified and she simply asked for none of this

Safe to say that these superhuman gifts of hers have twisted the truth til swimming undeniably acidic within

Crying creative eyes, these people speak to her but her conversation has been hot-wired and designed by a whole other realm of creation

Dining with the motherfucking devil, a snide-eyed kind of sad creature
Breathes to beat the odd odds – a courageous portrayal of absolute inadequacy

She layered herself in a stereotypical situation of metaphorical cement midst my self-aggrandised agony and stands seriously stricken to the bones of her beautiful being which have been screaming, been meaning to make a difference, deafening indeed

Medicating her miraculous nature – stranger things have sincerely failed at happening
These pill-popping, mid-a.m. magnified moments of utter worship when she gets to tending to being her own best-friend
Fending for her erratic self

These lessons in deception have been killing her, wherein the real people disappear and replace themselves via a needless and endless degree of over-thinking industry

A two-decade long tragedy of black-silhouetted sorts – we really ought to learn to turn over a whole new leaf, don’tcha simply think?

The point of no return can be oh so very contagious, remembering the pain but never these million dozen smiles of a distant existence

Why is that!?
Why are all of the darkest, dankest things supposed to leave the largest trace of regret?

I wear my pin-stripped attire while she recklessly rides the insides of my sophomore mind from behind the scenes
Our looks will slowly, inevitably fade, an envy-laden parade etch-a-sketched via old-school memories

Betrayed like all of the rest…
Gun, bullet, brain… no real way out from the under beneath… and perfection never need be so perfectly pretty

They’ve been stealing our favourite dreams ten at a time
Our pulsating veins have been realigned and intensified by all of these misshapen and direly imbalanced white, white lies – can I have your manicured hand while we dance like no-one’s been watching

Split-second significance all over again
Heart-happy, coffee-swilling individuals who are proud to be seen with all of their emblemed scars gathered and drained from deceptive and destructive yesteryear

Everything appears to be okay again… the pen is steadying itself like clockwork crazy

It rather than All Of We
Been biding my time, biting my insides til they tilt and finally feel like they belong to something special again, handsome flamboyancy hidden from sight a fair while

I guess you could say that craziness took a large part of our better beings… inside of our minds never really needed to be so very vicariously unjustified

Nullified by the lack of a comfortable light

And, yes, of course she’s been crying
Call it a corrupt kind of an incorrect design – the best kind of derogatory design