this is why i don’t let myself feel things you know

you can’t get stabbed in the heart if you don’t have one.

i wish you inspired me to write more

when we were at peace

but as warring nations the tale is so much juicier;

this is a waste of time, perhaps

have i learned anything, but coping methods?

no ability to stop the knife from entering my rib cage,

just a keener ability to slow the bleeding.

better than nothing.

i want to be above this,

to be singularly devoted

to a thing i know won’t hurt me

to a thing i know i can’t hurt,

i want to marry my work;

i don’t think it could hurt me,

i don’t think i would hurt it.

i wouldn’t have to read its mind

or guess what it was thinking

i wouldn’t want to dance the dance it wanted me to dance

or bend me knee to its wishes,

i wouldn’t have to,



this is all a waste of time

i need to eat some, some motherfucking asparagus,

go for a run,

finish a book,

work out,

no more emo poetry for me,

leave that shit to tumblr

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