Lock The Windows, Shutter Them Tight.

Act my age? What the fuck is that, “act my age”? What do I care how old I am? The Ocean is old as fuck. It will still drown your ass with vigor.

Monsters aren’t hideous creatures born of the night. Monsters aren’t insidious demons that want to steal our soul. Monsters aren’t beings of evil or inspired malevolence. Monsters are who we become when our angry tides surge.

your kiss is the taste of warm fires in January and the color of daisy’s in spring and the blood in my veins burns as fierce as the blood-red leaves of autumn. Falling crashing, crumpling, skeletons of inevitable change and my heart feels like summer where flowers grow from bruises when you kiss my hands, scars, lips oh god please promise me your kiss wont feel like December frost on windows and leave me breathless like thunderstorms in Spring when I wake up alone, my veins hot with withered plants after summer. Dying, crying, broken, remnants of an inevitable ending and I don’t want my heart to feel like a summer romance that died with colder weather when you no longer kiss my hands, scars, and lips