InterdimensionChaos

new niche just dropped

edit: there’s a pattern of something something wanting to protect their partners from what they know to be horrible

Watch Klaus.

No, seriously. Do it.

Flowers grow under my skin

Curling around my blood vessels

Twining themselves around my lungs

Peeling back the layers

Of my heart 

And threading the needle through the ventricles

Tattooing the ridgelines of my life 

Stretching the canvas of my body

Until I can’t possibly

Feel any more

Somedays they urge to burst out of my skin

Exploding out of my fingertips and writing

Pretty words with my blood

Over a faded and fading piece of paper

Neverlasting 

Creeping their way behind my eyes

Greedily moving to sunlight

That shines only once a day 

Maybe twice

If you’re so inclined 

Or lucky

Other days they burn and suffocate

And clutch the strings at my very 

Soul

And tear and pull and rip and 

Hurt.

Clawing their way up my windpipe

Obscuring every word 

Choking my voice

But not my mouth.

I smile, flower petals gnashed between

Crooked teeth

As blood drips down my throat

And sweetness drowns my nose

And clouds my eyes But mostly yours

Poisonous spores A penumbra bouquet 

Moving between my ears

And eyes

And holding my wrist tenderly and 

Telling me to despair

  into the 

A letter to a heartbroken me:

So, he doesn’t like you. You knew this. You knew this and you still went and felt these ridiculous feelings. Remember that one project freshman year of high school? Love is nothing if not chemical reactions in your brain, unintentionally making you addicted to someone. Just molecules and atoms convincing you of something stupid. You didn’t choose this. You absolutely didn’t want this. And do you know what the worst thing is? You finally thought you had a chance. That he saw you beyond a doubt. That he could possibly love that. Empty touches, meaningless conversations, nothing but fluff. You wanted to make yourself so desirable to him that you stripped away everything that could possibly make you, you and leaving behind a plastic copy in its place who he could never care about. He sees you as a friend - and you wish that was enough. You would tear yourself down and build yourself up at his feet, a cluster of amalgamated body parts in the semblance of someone he could care about. You wish that he would do something so terrible, so irreversibly damaging that you could tear this stupid, festering root out of my chest and regrow something fresh and new and real in its place. But my God, is he so good? Such a beautiful soul - the stars themselves watch with love in their eyes. Everyone loves him, and you always did hate being left out. Do you know what the worst part of it is? That you actually still believe that he could love you back. Even though there is another girl, and even though he never looks twice in your direction, and even though your shared words are filled with nothingness. You want to want him, and more so want him to want you. I guess there’s this lingering ‘what if’ constantly tugging at the last threads of my logic and forcing me to look at him through sky blue glasses. And you believe that he sees you too.