where we write it


you were the only one i talk to everyday.  I miss
you more than you think. you’re an addiction and my only
friend who exists. I dreamed and dreamed about you.
every time I feel something, It’s you who I want to tell it to.
you taste so wrong

Like a deadly ivy, that’s too pretty to be picked.
A trail of dead bodies, an addictive poison I can’t spit.
I know I’m hooked. how dare I to admit…
I will get on that paper and pour all of my ink.
into emotions.  even if it doesn’t fit.  I will write on the table and everywhere
I wanted you all, every bit,  your anger, your sickness and disturbance.
your sweat,  yelling and discomfort. 
I love your flaws and imperfections.
Obsessed with your rantings, and predilections.
I know your sorrow. I am sinking in it,
but I don’t mind drowning.
I know the fumes. I’m poisoned by them,
but I don’t mind dying.
I just wanna pick that flower..
Is it gonna kill me, or have I become immune

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