I write
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If you want feel free,

make this one mistake.

Feel the dirt with me.

Intoxicate yourself.

Fill up with poison

to be free.


Make this mistake with me.

Feel what the dirt is like.

You’ll like it more

than you think.


It takes a second.

Don’t think about it.

Slip into the ground

and fall through the other side

into a pool of water.


Soak up the water and drain the ocean.

Feel the world in your skin.

Feel bigger than you already are.

Feel full and heavy.


The current will transport you.

Transfer you to a whiter place.


Take this one mistake from me.

Slip it through your veins


Lay down with me

and sink into the carpet.

Forget what clean can be and

make this mistake with me


It’s easier to forget what it’s like

to be clean.


Darkness is the light. #vsco #vscocam #ig_newjersey


Darkness is the light. #vsco #vscocam #ig_newjersey

Locked-in sydrome


just enough amber light let in to acknowledge the room.

muddy wash of yellow sprayed on walls, furniture.

an ugly feeling.


absent sunlight.

rain tapers out, taps on loose windows.

I have not eaten yet because I am not inspired to.


nauseous from not eating

but I choose not to fix it.

uninspired to feel better.

I hate the color of the wall and the shape of the floor.


I feel smaller than I am.

all of my skin turned inside out

and it’s hard to open my mouth

and push words out.


there is a place out there where I’ll feel better but not here.

it could take forever until I go there.

I’ll spend my time scraping the ground if it means eventually I’ll get there.


my face is a plastic mold.

it won’t change itself

it sits, static, molded.


I’m trying to lay as still as possible

with the lights out.

I want it completely silent.

I want to feel static, molded.

I stare at the table by the wall and expect it to do nothing to me

and stay motionless.


I enjoy feeling static even if it means I’m not myself

because it feels authentic.

A state of being that is seen unfavorable becomes a friend.


I press my fingers hard into my temples

and listen for the rain to stop.

the muddy, yellow floor is making me sick.

I need to move.

Getting up from the chair

It’s curious to note how different environments affect my writing.

I thought that I had to be in a certain place and carry an appropriate mindframe to write something I feel is successful.

but I don’t think that’s it.


I prefer to write outside when it’s temperate and there’s a subtle breeze that creates a lulling static in the background,

as if to filter my thoughts so that I don’t hear everything I think.

I like the visual of the moon and its glow.

I like to have a few cigarettes to smoke.

I don’t mind the company of animals but i do mind other people.

I’d rather feel alone.


But who am I, as a self-proclaimed writer, to think that in order to create something new I have to sit myself in the same sort of routine?

I should not be restraining myself because I’ve written successfully a number of times in this setting I created.


I must mention that a few pieces I have made were in different environments and I have come to notice that those environments affected the mood of the writing.

In a cozier atmosphere, I write cozily.

At a desk, I write in a constrained mood.


I will make it my objective to play around with the relationship between the mood of my writing and the setting I place myself in.

See where that takes me.

I must engage more in the world around me and let it write with me.


she sends herself
crashing into me
full force waves
full of her passion
descend on me

and every time
the tide pulls her back
i feel myself
get a little more
lost at sea

jessicacaulfield asked: Fuck who ever sent that. That's so shitty.

Thanks, baby girl. I pay no mind. Unfortunately, I had this kind of backlash about a month ago. I thought it was over but I guess not.

Anonymous asked: but seriously. what the fuck is wrong with you? i thought you used to be so sweet, and kind. nah, turns out you're just a stupid indecisive girl , nothing special but your fancy colored hair. you're lucky youre beautiful, cause if you were ugly no one would give you the time of day.

Thanks, man! This gave me a good laugh this morning. I’m fine with being called stupid and indecisive if I get to keep all the close friends and family I have with me now. Maybe I’m not so much indecisive but growing into my own skin because at 21, things start changing real fast. And maybe I realized I was hurting someone by holding onto a bare-bones relationship and let go but was ready to start something new. And that happened fast because I was ready. Do you honestly believe we live in a world of conformist ritualization? It’s 2014. Get over it. It’s as if other people know how I grieve, deal with pain, or live. How dare someone ask for explanations to my own personal decisions. But, this has been lain to rest. I have a lot of hate geared towards me but that is natural in the process of finding one’s self. I’m doing great for myself. All that matters.

It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it

— Aristotle (via liberatingreality)

I could say it a thousand times over but I will show how I love you

by making you coffee and walking next to you

I will share my company with you.

You give me so much by that look

lit by streetlights in the parking lot

I would fold myself over the length of the world just to see you look.

Where were you in the years that I spent falling over myself,

barely keeping up with my head, constantly dizzy

hoping I would fall just to make everything stop 

so I could catch my breath again.

I cannot hear the cacophonous static.

There is so much to listen to in this silence.

And when we sit without speaking

I draw the picture in my head

of how colorful the dark night is with you.