SoImStillUnsure

The sound of a thousand teenage slamming hearts, screams from protruding veins and broken lips, fists punching the tension in the air to the beat of tonight's anthem. Crystals bounce through the air, glinting tears and beads of sweat, colliding and joining us in a fog of heat and emotion as we yell, until the burning in our throats matches that of the road-burn on our wrists and whip marks on our backs. The music slips into tired eardrums, numbing the whispered bullshit and cliches - a welcome replacement of the drone of society. Somehow the beat entwines its body with each of those thriving on the dance floor, spiraling up the

I am lovingly entrapped in your orbit, held in permanent transfixion by the weight of you - tugged gently against your skin, against your lips. Eternally mesmerized, fashioning boundless rings of asteroids and moon dust around your fingers. Painting comet tail trails around your hips: all attempts to hold me to you, to never fall into the void that swirls like ink and fog around us. Your satellite moon - composing waltzes in midnight sky dresses and dripping jewels - spinning aimlessly, with such direction, always towards you. Constantly pulled inward, drifting, like a lost ship in a still sea, like glass, that so perfectly mirrors the co

The thick sap drips readily from shredded veins, staining the crisp air with the stifling scent of oak blood and wood glue. He leans his broken body, weary, against me, and I can feel his leaves trembling with each of our shallow breaths. Some fall to the ground with the quiet tinkling of broken glass. He bends at the knees and I lay him soft against the ground, letting him kiss the moss around his limbs, that’s still wet with dew and sky tears. I whisper a gentle thanks: I've given him purpose, and he’s given something back to me. My knife cuts through his sinewy core as I run my hand along his rough and cooled skin, mixing my

You and I are the definition of fatal attraction, like a serotonin deficiency to the pretty side of the blade, like the heavy-hearted pebble that wants to trails its lips across still waters, like sun-bleached and wind-whipped birch paper to the lustful licks of shadow-dancing candle flame. I expect everything to fail - us, no exception - because having to hold my hopes up is far too hard on my limbs, when my wrists just want to bleed out, my shoulder blades still ache from tearing out my wing span, and my fingertips burn from when they learnt to trust, and then couldn't hold on when that trust fell out from under them. You say you

I'm not like one of your video games, I don't mind if you camp, right outside my heart, so long as your promise you won't shoot when you see me, just grab me, hold me, call me a hostage, but kiss me like a butterfly. And there's no time bonus with me, you don't have to do everything so damn fast. in fact, I want to see how slow you can go, how careful. Touch me like I'm a spider's thread. cradle my hands, my wrists, my thighs, because I am so damn breakable. I don't have the best armor, I haven't upgraded quite yet, but maybe someday I will, maybe someday I won't be so fragile, and you can fuck me like one of your