'what are you scared of?'
she was too pale to be held against the sun: so she leans against it until you can't see her face.
her eyes were chalk-smudges on blackboards, blurred against a backdrop of white-washed walls. her outline was all fade-out and lace, as white as winter could be.
her words were quiet like stains are, clinging to a curtain in the window. just trying to blend into the pattern, or at least not become part of it.
and when she breathes her chest swells with see-through lungs--hoping that if you focus, you'll see right through her glass skin. after all, she's just a smudge of the wrong varnish in your eyes.
she shudders
Sweat drips down my hair and into my eyes as I stand under the unrelenting sun. My white knuckled hands grip the darkly painted knife, shaking like a city in an earthquake. I jolt as I feel a hand brushing against my hip, and look down. The hand is mine, instinctually feeling the white leather pouch to check that my other two knives are still there. They are. The black ribbons laced through them flutter gently in a breeze that I havn't noticed before. Now I feel it, the wind grows in strength tearing into my body like a thousand prying fingers, each one existing solely to rip me into pieces. Desperately, my clothes cling to my body. I havn't
*Dear Teddy*
Sitting alone, while music is blasting
Trying to drown out the voices, long-lasting.
Music, however, can't be loud enough.
The powers that be are far too tough.
Taunting follows me everywhere,
As they mock my style, my tastes, my hair.
There's no safe haven; I can't get away
From everything this cruel world has to say.
So I ponder my problem; I have so much fun
Imagining ways to make myself numb.
The closest I've been was