Skip the small talk, because I
don’t want to hear about your
favorite TV show again, I don’t
care if your friends know wealthy
folks, and I could walk naked
during a cold foggy morning, so
I don’t need a weather update;
stop wasting this goddamn life
on bullshit, and tell me something real;
something that plagues your mind,
something that you would die for.
What would you die for? - Julian Budani (via youshouldacceptchaos)
If I give this feeling a name, will it be harder to let go of or easier to hate? I think I learned how to fly once, but I woke up with a broken leg. There was an entire summer when I searched for poisoned berries and convinced myself I was just keeping everyone else safe. The days only seem long when you are paying attention to where the sun is instead of what she is saying. Don’t you dare talk about this like you know anything about forgiveness. I saw the black drip from your mouth, and there were no galaxies this time. Every day, I wrap tape around these broken pencils and punch poems into paper that doesn’t belong to me. This is all I know about fighting. It is never about who hits the hardest, but whose blood stains the longest. Mine washed off months ago, and I can still see yours from here.
Y.Z, a letter to the monsters (via rustyvoices)