i feel hypothetical right now

i don't know what that entails

its one of those nights where i wish i could unzip my skin and step out for a bit
pretend it was a shell
and leave everything back inside the shell
and exist outside myself for a little
be unaffected by thing
not retain them or think about them or anything
i kind of wish i could just let stuff happen
stop thinking for a little bit
sleep walk and talk and make friends and not alienate anyone

i'm going to alienate everyone eventually
i don't know why
but i probably will
and maybe by then i'll have finished in cold blood

haha i fucking hate this
whats it called....
priorities
fuck those

cigarette ashes smell so terrible its almost poetic

the spots from the blood that dripped into my pillow
soaking through the cotton and stuffing into the sheet
and it trickles down past the ear that
slowly set it free
the world is falling apart and killing me

the world is falling apart and its falling through my fingers
and the world is crumbling down and its hitting my shoulders like fire
and the darkness of the world around me, with everyone asleep
blatantly alone with no one
this silence is crushing me and
i cannot breath

i try to speak through my teeth
play some pointless sound to make it all better
and somehow
i'm in this situation again and everything about to break
i don't where i'm going this time
but i can tell it isn't good

two hours later
the sun is awake and he's coming up from behind the clouds
the light is pooling in my eyes and
i guess i survived the night
people walking their dogs
getting the newspaper
going to work once again
and somehow everything is better

but the stain from the blood
left on my pillowcase is proof of the flood
of the death and fires raging
when the world fell apart
and drowned out the crickets chirping
when the world fell apart
and told me that i was dying

and somehow i guess i survived the night
and somehow i guess everything is better
and somehow i survived the night
and somehow everything is better

when i was young my grandma had an ashtray in her porch
used for holding pennies and golf tees in
didn't know what it was til i was fifteen
and noticed it while were sitting,
talking to each other about how things change

and in our living room we kept a trunk
adorned white paint and chipping leather edges
filled with coloring book and arm covers from a couch we
threw out years ago

and in my room i had a small wooden box
kept on a shelf, open without any sort of lock
it held letters from an ex girlfriend
written in ink and addressed to me by hand
and other words i planned to keep from distant, broken ties

that summer i didn't sleep
til the sun was rising and the air was warmed by its fire that burned brightly
the nights were filled with friends,
sneaking out and drinking
filled with cigarettes and memories that curled away in the air
filled with good times that
in a way i never wanted to come to an end

and on a summer night
i met a boy in a tyedye shirt that my friend asked for a light
his smile won me over
and his ringtone resonated in my mind
we hung out in the dark
conversations in grass
and when i thought of quitting i saved my last ten cigarettes
for being with him

for once, my thoughts were never racing
and for once, i didn't want to die
i felt it finally, what it felt to really be alive

i'm sick of things being fucked up

i'm sick of people being angry or sad or mean or distant or whatever
i am sick of all the shit that has been going down lately
i want things to get better
to go back to being good
a few months ago, things were so, so good.

and now it's like... it let go of the rope that keeps my life in check and fwoom
it's all fucked up.

i don't know

maybe i am making a mountain out of a molehill
maybe i'm not
i don't know
i really don't

still nights fall on frozen ears
frozen hands
drift back and saturated in the scent of my sins
it doesn't matter
it stopped mattering
in four hours water will wash it away
flowing over the shaking legs
fighting to hold up a nauseous body
that would empty it out
if there was anything to be emptied
no longer part of me
none of it is
i've drifted away
tapped into a dish to sit
for weeks
months
saturated in the scent of my sins
it doesn't matter

The scent is bitter
Like the dying aromatics we inhale
Curling skyward
Like a fleeting and ardent fuck you to the heavens.
And our mark on the world is gone
In seconds
Diffusing in the atmosphere
Leaving nothing but a dented filter in our wake
Far past smoldering away
And this scent is bitter
Our scent is bitter

there's nothing better

than sitting on my roof after a less than good day on a drizzly and dripping afternoon

Didn't go to school today.

Didn't do anything today.
I got up... twenty minutes ago, not even.

But idk.
It's /that/ day.
I had completely forgotten about it, but it is in fact /that/ day.



And it's been two years, motherfucker.
Two years.

I don't know.
Today is just... one of those days.

I get not wanting to be friends

I don't care.
It's the whole saying you still want to be friends bullshit that is bothering me to no end.

I don't want to just give up, but I mean, it's not like I'm giving up on anything anyway.
fffff.

I don't know.

I don't want to do this again

I am sick of it.