Author Archives: thenspeaksthesoul

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kitchen talks.

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its 1 am and some change,
and you're dancing with me,
round and round and round,
we're spinning in slow motion
drunk on red wine and jager
and whatever the fuck this is -
this thing with you that has me so high,
i can see the ocean from the sky
and its the blue in your eyes
and i could drown, happily
suffocated by a sea of blue and gray.
i am interested. you are very pretty.
you say. 
youre so gorgeous.
i say.
this will always be ours, 
this laughter in the earliest 
parts of a new day and 
even if this is all there is. 
the things that have lived inside
my head tumble out in spirals
and you just let it flow over you
this waterfall of words and you take it
so easily like this wave is not too much.
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honey.moon.

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i want to crawl inside your skin,
be so close i can touch your heart
with my bare hands, feel it beating.
i remember the way this felt before,
i know the way the fire burns hot,
leaves nothing but ashes behind.
i haven’t forgotten that for all the heat,
there is ice and cold and pain.
i hate this feeling of wanting
to love you deeply and softly, completely.
i hate it because it gives you power
that no one should ever have.
i hate that i want to drown in you,
that i never want to come up for air.
i hate that i feel like im holding smoke
watching it drift through my fingers
and im trying to inhale it,
some last ditch effort to keep my sanity,
because there you are,
saying some of the right things
and being so damn beautiful.

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peace out.

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I guess I must have dumbass
tattooed across my forehead.
I asked you 1,242 times if you loved me
and 1,242 times you swore you did.
I said I’d never beg to be loved again,
but I guess instead I chose to settle
for 3 hours of laughter
and a 3 hour drive.
I chose someone who wouldn’t chose me.
How the fuck does that feel?
Like shit.
We circled the drain,
fuck if it wasn’t clogged the fuck up,
but we slipped down anyway.
I slipped into madness,
and you slipped into forgetfulness.
Forgot you loved me.
Forgot you missed me.
Forgot I was your fucking girlfriend.
I asked for what I needed,
and in the end what I needed,
was just a peace out, see you later,
except later was just bullshit,
just like our relationship.

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Clockwork

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Razor blades? Or wine drunk?
Will 2009 percs get you high?
Instead of running,
I’m running from things.
Drowning in self pity?
Or is there something fucking wrong with me?
Googling,
—how much tramadol to get me high.
Google says,
—tramadol is considered an opiate narcotic drug.
Razor blades? Or wine drunk?
Are you an alcoholic if you
are too lazy to go to the store for whiskey?
Do you fucking love me?
He says he loves me.
My brain says shut the fuck up.
—no you don’t.
It always happens like this.
It’s like clockwork.
Elation.
I’m so fucking happy.
Restless.
Want to get in my car and never look back.
Depressed.
Sometimes I’m angry,
and that brings shame
and shame feels like shit.
So does angry.
I feel so much.
Razor blades. Or wine.
Fuck.
Like, I’ve been here before.
I know how it goes.
I know it fades,
but right now I don’t want to fucking feel shit.
Unless it’s someone telling me how goddamn beautiful I am.
Talking to you, Cameron.
Think that’s gonna happen?
Fuck no.
Razor blades? Or wine?
I’m drinking the wine.
I’m drinking the wine.
Hey Google,
—does this make me an alcoholic?
Do you know what the serving size is for alcohol?
—Take a sip.
Can I talk to you about your substance use?
—Take a sip.
There are other
—take a sip
coping skills you can use
—take a sip
like deep breathing
—take a sip.
Razor blades.
Or wine.
Wine.