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but when i die, i want it to hurt. when my friends leave, when i have to let go, when this entire town is wiped off the map, i want it to hurt. bad. until that happens, i want to hope again. and i want it to hurt. because that means it meant something.
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and when i turned to face grief, i saw that it was just love in a heavy coat.
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let me be very clear: every version of the story ends with you being slaughtered.
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so why save a world like that? why would you ever even want to save… me?
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but if the mask is put on ‘too heavily’, it ‘bites your skin’, and ‘with horror you see the flesh and its mask have become inseparable’. try and remove the mask, and you risk damaging your soul.
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i come from the toughest meanest place you can imagine. i want to be gentle, i want to die gently, but it seems that when life gets hard i have to get harder to match.
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you were raised by dogs.
when you get angry, you go right for the throat.
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what is better ── to be born good, or to overcome your evil nature through great effort?
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thank you for the love, thank you for the joy.
but i don't ever want to fall in love again.
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someone help me understand what's going on inside my mind.
doctor, i can't tell if i'm not me.
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a child not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth.
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everything i ever did, i did for her. now she's gone. and I'm still here.
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i have heard it said that love turns people soft but i have never been more brutal.
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he learned the hard way that there is no hand held that didn't eventually grow teeth. he bled once ── decided right then that he never would again.
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you .. actually liked me, didn't you?
what am i doing ..? why do i wanna hurt you so bad?
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it's okay if you hate me, i don't blame you one bit, but I'm not gonna wait for you to ask about it. I'm trying to change. I'm trying to.
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you're every thing I've ever wanted.
if you die i hope you haunt me.
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I tell myself I’m not like that any more ╱ at least I thought I was less savage ╱ I try, I try, I try, I try, I try to do less damage.
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there is something so lonely and tired about the way my heart beats.
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and my words shoot to kill when I'm mad. i have a lot of regrets about that.
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“i want,” she says. “that's my problem. i want and i want and i want.”
“what do you want?” he asks, voice soft.
“everything. charm me. rip me open. ruin me. go too far.”
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you were always frightened.
what you were afraid would happen? it has happened.
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I'm not talking about my death. I'm talking about my life. i gave my WHOLE life.
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will you be the place where i can finally stop performing for? can i slump in your arms and blink dry, tired eyes?
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my heart finds salvation in your dirty hands. the heaven that lies behind your teeth, beckons — chew ﹠ swallow. eat; make me pure again.
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I'M GONNA BE WHERE YOU ARE
DOESN'T MATTER HOW FAR
BECAUSE WE ARE MEANT TO BE
I'M GONNA BE WHAT YOU NEED.
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I'm sorry that on that day, the day you were shut out and left to die, no one was there to lift you up into their arms, the way you lifted others into yours.
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when you are born inside a burning house you think the whole world is on fire, but it is not.
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don't pretend like you want me here. what's your plan for me, huh? you gonna put me somewhere? you're gonna leave me .. somewhere? you're gonna leave me alone?!
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i cannot make speeches ... if i loved you less, i might be able to talk about it more.
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can you just —— talk to me for one second? like a real person?! ╱ I'm ... not a real person.
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all my grief says the same thing — this isn't how it's supposed to be. and the world laughs, holds my hope by my throat, says; but this is how it is.
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i know that intimacy is not a clean thing; it is difficult like this — covert and common. bare, as it should be: someone says i want the mess in you, and you give it to them.
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i did it for love.
i did it for fun.
couldn't get enough.
i did it for fame.
but never for money.
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i keep my misery bared between my teeth. i refuse to let her leave.
i am nothing without this obsession of mine.
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good god, my guilt has three faces & none of them was born with eyes.
why does a heart inherit a cage but no key to keep it there?
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so it was confusing to live between the two extremes: fearing closeness, then obsessively needing the comfort it provided.
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I'll tell you what real love is. it is blind devotion, unquestioning self—humiliation, utter submission, trust and belief against yourself and against the whole world, giving up your whole heart and soul to the smiter — as i did.
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i am not a graceful person. i am not a sunday morning or a friday sunset. i am a tuesday 2a.m., gunshots muffled by a few city blocks, i am a broken window during february. my bones crack on a nightly basis.
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you have love — it burns;
you have pain — it burns; and when that burning is no longer present, you cease to exist.
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you always said how you loved dogs.
i don't know if i count, but I'm trying my best when I'm howling and barking these songs.
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do you know one day i will kill you? i won't kill you because i have stopped loving you or because I'm jealous of you, but simply because sometimes i want to devour you.
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i watched you change, you're someone else.
but I'm still drawn to you.
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two birds on a wire, one says, “c'mon”
and the other says, “I'm tired”
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hungry. insatiable, I'm trying to tell you something to remember. trying to tell you the story; what happened, how i craved your bite, the poison. so close, as if, we could start over.
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he loves you the way a starving dog loves a bone. the way a hungry wolf loves a bleeding lamb.
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it is depressing to know a war is coming.
worse to know the war will always be in you.
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I'm always soft for you, thats the problem. you could come knocking at my door five years from now and i would open my arms wider and say, ‘come here, it's been too long, it felt like home with you.’
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five times a day i make tea. i do this because i like the warmth in my hands, like the feeling of self—directed kindness. I'm not used to it — warmth and kindness —— both, so i create my own when i can.
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I don’t know if I can bear it anymore. I feel like taking a pair of shears and slicing myself open.
would you come then? would that get your attention?
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my darling,
you will never be unloved by me
you are too well tangled in my soul.
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I will drown if my anger asks me to.
it has an ocean to its name. it has everything I wasn’t given.
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i killed a plant once because i gave it too much water. lord, i worry that love is violence.
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i was 16 and anchored with a heart that held a tiredness, centuries—old.
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i miss your voice, you're the only one with it.
it reminds me of what used to be mine.
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i am not your pet. i never liked you. i don't care about you. i won't wait for you.
i bite.
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sure, i have time. i always have time for you. sure, whatever you need. whatever you need.
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i feel like i am dead. dead, roaming not rotting among this downward pointed earth. i am bound by zero consequence and terrified for everyone around me. i'm not worried for myself though.
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the little child who grew up in a burning home became the adult who failed to love anything that doesn't cause fire.
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the sea no longer torments me; the self i wished to be is the self i am.
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you already know the story. you will die. everyone you love will also die. you will lose them forever. you will be sad and angry. you will weep. you will bargain. you will make demands. you will pray. it will make no difference.
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i know you want to save the world, but won't you come sit by the fireplace with me?
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unfold, unfold, unfold me ── find a crease you don't like and rip it away.
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the corruption begins with the mouth, the tongue, the wanting.
the first poem in the world is: i want to eat.
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and if the devil were to ever see you, he'd kiss your eyes and repent.
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you're my best friend, now I've no one to tell how i lost my best friend.
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