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rewrite these thoughts prettyhe will splatter the torture across her smilerewrite these thoughts pretty
and those lips will reach the sky.
he spoke of how "the pretty ambulances will come. oh and honey they'll give you all the pills you need.
oh how they'll stitch those cheeks back to your jaw, honey you'll never smile again."
and how she was a child and her mother was a whore. and how she was a child and her mother was a violent giggle and a belly-button ring. and how she placed that pretty scarlet wine in her daughter's fingertips. and how her voice sounded like a slut indulging in an angel,
when she hushed "might
by ~ocd-arsonist
overdosing the black and whitewhen your toes are sprinkled with sand,overdosing the black and white
do you think of the time when the hurricane hit the horizon?
we were just kids, the kids who screamed when the wind was so fierce,
no one could hear the cries anyway. - when your feet tap among the sidewalk cracks, do you think of the time when our words blazed across the beach-line traffic? when our smiles were all that flew, and our destination disfigured. i think i was i happy, and i wished that you were too.
- when you see beautiful boys skating down the tar,
do you think of when we'd lay across the frozen air, speaking of only w
by ~ocd-arsonist
the prodigal eyeshe had the kind of perfect that only hit his imperfections.the prodigal eyes
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when i met him i thought it was like sheets of white paper were hugging his cheek bones. i had found him him throwing chardonay glasses at a mural wall. he loved to watch the shards light up the air like fireworks before they danced into his arms.
he was the kind of boy whose smile seemed to make you cry.
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he was almost a lust at first sight when i found him, wrist pinned to the cubicle wall and a thin bottle of liquid paper wrapped in his fingertips. he told me he was trying to 'white-out' his mistakes.
&n
by ~ocd-arsonist
hearts don't have hearts.the boy was an acid trip on legs.hearts don't have hearts.
he was the one who'd curl his arms around your waist and sing his laugh, the one who sat on sidewalk vents handing out his heart to pedestrians. through his eyes, the only thing that cut the world in half was the difference between those who could handle a heart with care, and those who couldn't.
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i was the girl who thought a smile could shade my scars, the one with the eyes that never heard her lips. i met him busking at the train station and he handed me a piece of paper.
it said, this is my heart.
i've taken it from its rightful plac
by ~ocd-arsonist
Random Favourites
bright eyes - collabthere’s a girl whose lips taste like a half moon and her fingers like the sun, just two minutes and thirty three seconds before dawn. you know the way you feel, when you’re standing outside in the near-dark with a cold chest and cold toes, waiting for the sun to appear from behind the horizon. when there’s a whisper in the leaves and murmurs from the grass, and the mud; it’s filling the gaps between your toes and you’re crying. it is just like her, you think. just like her fingers with cracked nails and calloused fingertips. - there’s a girl whose got bright eyes and makes you think about eating tea abright eyes - collab
by *rachel-rhapsody
bright eyes - collabthere’s a girl whose lips taste like a half moon and her fingers like the sun, just two minutes and thirty three seconds before dawn. you know the way you feel, when you’re standing outside in the near-dark with a cold chest and cold toes, waiting for the sun to appear from behind the horizon. when there’s a whisper in the leaves and murmurs from the grass, and the mud; it’s filling the gaps between your toes and you’re crying. it is just like her, you think. just like her fingers with cracked nails and calloused fingertips. - there’s a girl whose got bright eyes and makes you think about eating tea abright eyes - collab
by ~BlackMagicBoy
bird wings.theres a girl who has irses the colour of running ink. she covers canvasses with blood-red paint and covers note books in everything she wishes she could be. hanging red canvasses on the blue walls in her room sometimes make her feel as though she's burning. when she comes home from school she lays on her bed and she cries, burning from the inside out.bird wings.
- theres a girl who spends her nights curled in a ball, in the park behind her house. her cheeks are decorated in purple-blue-black bruises and her tights are ripped. i want to hold her to my chest and run my fingers through her sienna hair; hold her hands and kiss her finger
by ~BlackMagicBoy
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"The firefly that sunk into the ocean of glamor
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