what if amanda bynes is locked up somewhere, and penelope tate is pretending to be her causing trouble
(via spookyookykitty)
Did you fall in love with her eyelashes?
When she cut them all off, did your pour?
I saw your pair of shoes sitting next to hers
And even those didn’t seem all the way right.
I know you have flimsy nails
But it’s no excuse not to lash out
She holds you like you’ve just finished a marathon
Every single time.
She doesn’t want to touch you,
but you are a lovely trophy.
I am not a gift giver,
I am far from sainthood.
But at least I have shoulders
And just enough gin
To keep me warm, alone.
She is an hourglass in more ways than one
And you can’t let her tolerate you
You cannot give her more time.
Take your bones back, boy.
She may be body
But you and her
Are both too lonely.
Oil between my joints
Water in my gills
Marrow in my thoughts,
Production
To know what I am made of,
Where this flesh derives from
Where my veins grab hold onto my ancestor’s thoughts
And pump them to the tip of my tongue
I am appropriately alive.
To her,
I am the last stage in the life of a dandelion.
one strong blow allows dispersal.
Something you cast away.
When I say
“I’m going”
she will often say to me,
“Do you have to go or are you just going?”
And when I stay,
it is much the same.
And when she goes to touch me
it is as if I’ve never been touched before.
And when I go to touch her
She retracts
As if my skin were sandpaper.
sea of haves and
have nots
cut me in half and see my bones
cut me in half and steal this heart
i d o n o t w a n t y o u t o g e t t o k n o w m e
leave i shall leave
you want a chance you say
a chance
just a chance
rotten nos
rotten apple
rotten
blame the prior for the fuck ups…
Camila on a friday night
Camila at Kafka
Camila drunk
Camila lauren talks
Camila and Hayley
What Camila thinks she looks like when she sleeps
What she really looks like
Twine in my nailbeds
Choral reefs in my eyes
Underneath the mattress
You’ll find
-A lot of unused wallets
-Magazine covers
-And paperclips
I never really knew the meaning of
Wealth-, Beauty-, or holding things Together-
Yet I am still potent in my world
Like the smell my grandfather’s melting skin
Death in a trailer Montana
Makes a body too hot
And flesh is a weak thing
If I was ever happy
It was when I was complacent
But now I want
a bigger sea,
a better love,
a stronger drink,
a larger hourglass
Wanting is no fun
When I die
Will my body remember the chemicals of my thoughts?
Will you?
