_eyes connect, speech neglect_

[blondcripple]

you smoke when you really feel like crying. i smoke and smoke tracing my fingers over my lost skin only to feel the bones of my skeleton under my flesh. bones of the shoulders. bones of the rib cage. bones of the hips. and then i fall asleep with a cigarette in hand collecting dreams of faeries dancing around the house with their rib cages showing like baskets under their flesh. you are there and you tear open my chest to junkalize the pink cellophane crackle of my heart. the walls are quivering and i wonder if it's the flashing neon sign of our love flickering for a recharge or just the vodka glazing my veins.

i could drift away from here. i am so light. bound by nothing, not even time.
and i am pure now.

i would rather fade away than burn out.