Rusty-Vintage-Pies

Hypocrisy is thick, like sweet honey and bees swarm the air tonight. I wondered if he knew this smile or if he ever saw me with it on - Would he recognize it for the imposter it is? I wondered if he knew I frown like a raincoat, I just never seem to wear it when the weather calls for it. I can’t take back the words that he utters but they are forced to be mine as soon as they touch plastic skies. As he defends this motive, I am a child again with someone pulling at my hair and cheeks and eyes and hearing in order to keep me safe. And I don’t see how it does, but they tell me, they tell me, they tell me I won’t hurt again. But

When I was fifteen, I was raped. I should have warned you that it was coming; that I was going to say something as deeply shocking and disturbing as that. Maybe he should have warned me before he crossed over from his realm into mine; he should have told me beforehand that he was going to rip my world from under me. He didn’t, so I won’t either. I’ll let you have that sickening thud in your stomach for a moment. I’ll let you take my hatred and taste its’ sour, burning acid scratch into your body. It isn’t very nice. Not at all, actually. So, yes, I was fifteen when I was raped. I was wearing my hair down. I wou

dear girl, i can’t sleep if i am wearing socks. concupiscence is a long word for something with such a short life. i like opening my eyes and seeing darkness. i like holding my breath so i can hear my heartbeat, because it seems like it must belong to someone else. it pumps too regularly, and does not carry the sluggish train of regret that mine must. mine pumps my body full of clichés and forgets to let the blood make it to my feet and my hands. last night was spent figuring out how much my body braces itself when i fall onto my driveway. dear girl, there is always one day a month that i can count on leaving it settled. no blo