Train Wreck

You taste like tears and could have beens but I love a good train wreck.



Sheets all over the place, my stare all over the ceiling. Clothes on the floor, feelings at the door, we're here to have fun. Black fingernails broken by your skin, smell of nicotine in the air.

Don't hold back, I like disaster. The song at the back of my head is haunting your thoughts.

i think it, you speak it. I want it, you do it. I close my eyes, you dream.

How much for 20 pounds of pure lust, darling? How much for an ounce of logic? i'm not bargaining here, I'll pay the price. You know what, take it back. My priceless insanity is more exhilarating

taint

Taint me, I'm not innocent. I'm twisted and cruel and I'm a bitch on a regular basis.
Taint me, I'm not pure. I like it when you bite into my shoulder
Taint me, I'm not cool. I'm an explosion waiting to happen
Taint me, I don't care. the sky wouldn't be beautiful without the reds and the purples.

Try to tame me. Give me a challenge. Make me think of you. I want to think of you when you're not around. Try to keep me interested. try to fascinate me. Steal my sleep, delect my senses.

Be my poison, be my drug.

Give me something to break. Be pretty and innocent.

Be honest so I can lie to you.

Be whole so i can break you.

Be mine so I can lose you.

Be free so i can build the walls.

Be pure so i can taint you.

Waves

Sweet indifference, bathing my senses...

So maybe I'll always think of you when I smell freshly exhaled cigarette smoke. SO maybe I'll remember you when someone tells me sarcasm doesn't become me(though it does, and you were just annoyed that it was dirrected at you). And when someone tells me my skin is unbelievably white, i'll flash back to a forgotten moment. Perhaps I'll have a deja-vu while I quickly gather for my clothes from a different floor.

So maybe I'll always think of you when I see clouds. Maybe I'll remember you when I look at a strategically placed wall. Out of sight but stil dangerously public. I'll probably smile maliciously in reminiscense at the sound of innuendo being thrown around.

So maybe I'll always think of you when I see an appealing male dressed fashionably, his hands nonchalantly stuffed in his pockets and arrogance exuding from every pore. Maybe i'll also remember you when I see someone surrounded by a group of girls. Someone addicted to attention and adoration.

So maybe I'll always think of you when I see someone looking indecently good in a red sweater. And I probably will if i try to remember what got me into smoking. I'll think of you when i see carefree confidence and hear someone with a smart mouth handing acid wit around like it was candy on holloween. Cruelty and beauty.

So maybe I'll think of you when I see purple on my skin, or when I'll love seeing it. And when I want to save someone, and when I want to kill them at the same time. I'll remember you when i'll drink too much, smoke too much, laugh too much, snark too much. When I'll be a bitch, when i'll be a devil, when I'll be a pagan, when I'll love the sin, when I'll stab a godess.

But aside from the maybe's there are certainties. So few and much more concrete because of their limited amount. I know water leaves its mark, but no single wave could ever sratch the surface.

In the dead of the night

She was so socially active it astounded him at times. She would throw her hair, arch her back and laugh whole heartedly at the jokes. She would be interested in what everyone had to say, a kind word and sympathetic advise following every confesion. She would down the shots and smoke the cigarettes, she would dance and taste the music. The cloths were spotless, the attitude was fresh. Sweet irony sometimes tainted her words. So interesting, so smart, so beautiful.

But his fascination had nothing to do with that outgoing side of her. It was in the dead of the night that his sight was offered the show it craved.

Wrapped in a sheat, thinking he was sleeping off their exhaustion, she would open the window and light one of her long cigarettes. Her mind on things he’d never know, her skin speaking a language he will never understand. She would watch the stars, she would feel the ground, she would hear the velvet texture of the air. Words would never exit her smoke drowned lips. Her eyes, green pools, would allude to depths unexplored. Those were the moments she spent with her secrets, with her scars… The woman smoking at that window was one he didn’t know. She was not social, she was not smiling. She was the present. Appreciating how the nicotine helped her think better, her mask off, her features unguarded but unrevealing.

He would go back to sleep, street lights caressing his eyelids.

Silence

A nice long drag out of my Dunhill. I hold the smoke in as much as my lungs will allow me and when I release it I follow it as it infects the air around it.

Control.

Hard thing to learn. Not many people master it. To know when to keep silent. To know when to sigh.

I’m afraid of the things I like. I like silence. I avoid it. It fills me up like a drug. It’s addictive. I’m waiting for the day when I will embrace it. When I will stop using words as shields to repel uncomfortable questions.

I want to live on a mountain with no company but uncaring trees and tired stones. Will anyone be there with me? To interrupt the whispers of the leaves? Will anyone else hear the water breathing? Do I want there to be anyone?

Permission

Let me cruise the world between the pages of a book.

Let me breathe until I'm high on oxygen.

Let me starve, I enjoy the diziness.

Tie me up with useless emotion like copper chains wrapped in velvet strands.

Let me forget to buy a watch, so you can't scold me when I'm late.

Let me spend hours watching my wrists, blood pumping underneath alabaster skin.

I don't want to fly with you, I don't want to fall with them, I want to float by myself.

...

Leaves of purple brush your wind.

Dust of gold grazes your soul.

Drops of light caress your skin.

Wheels of randomness guide your steps.

Paths of sun are closed to you.