We're stoners and conspirators, skate punks and rolling stones, indigos and witches all following the stars; this half-world is ours and we're the Mellow Movement

hearts like cigarette butts

his love was a suicide note jumping from a balcony
splattering onto the stone thick red raindrop of naive hope
but my love is a rotting garden &my heart’s a coffin
&he was waiting for a resurrection;
a spring that would never come
dirty hands grabbing my jaw his lips were whispering knives that slit my throat but the cold can’t die,
“i wanna be a serial killer with you in New Orleans” eyes that were the darkest moons i’d ever seen
but i was numb and could only feel the ice
&his dick inside
like a warm gun
trigger pulled when he’d bite
swearing i touched the pearly gates
hallow souls and bottles and bones
let him bruise me until i’d moan,
“i’m a girl not a ghost”
black lipstick smeared all over his skin
like maybe he fucked the dead
and he did
coated in weed smoke like cologne
that tongue that always got me stoned
but boy was a dripping sink
fighting to fill me up
every time: slipping down my drain of rust
fooled that his seed was sprouting within my corpse:
“we’re trash but we’re beautiful and we’re stupid broke brokenness and we’re gonna have a fucked up flower pretty as stars”
 never do i miss his rough touch
even as under a gravestone
i left his heart of dust
reading “baby boy thought i could love”

stomping-out hearts like cigarette butts
i guess that magic man in the sky forgot to give me one
&always, the scratches on their backs linger longer than my lust

12.Aug.14 1 week ago