Makes The World Go Round

makes the world go round

im sorry that i cant play the violin its something i always wanted to learn

but i cant

im sorry that on that day i chose something that was convenient to

you

something that i liked but maybe more as a hobby it only ever stresses

me

but when did you care i guess you say you did but maybe think of your words and realize it, because this is something you always told me

"dont tell me you love me, show me"

but for Gods sake i cant remember the last time i felt like you loved me

maybe money was the problem this shit i dont even like was cheaper than playing violin

good boys dont scream at little girls

its hard for two inherently angry people to talk

its hard to have a conversation that makes sense and isnt interrupted by screaming and torn vocal cords the words are never coherent

my throat hurts and no its not because im sickly its because im angry and i dont know why

ill tear my throat out so i can show you what ive shown before

burnt torn and swollen the fire in my esophagus

ill continue burning with a passion because you cant stop me without asking whats wrong

Pour out

the world is weak and poor the more and more you think about it

i think and think until my brain is now completely empty but i think ive been thinking forever

the thinking never stops but that's okay i think

i think happy i think sad i think mad especially

i yell and get angry

i dont know why

all he said was hello

but is that really what Mr. Licorice said? that's what everyone heard

but i heard i hate you you you me

dont go Mr. Sour even though i yell please dont go Mr. Spider even though im mad at you please please dont go Mr. Flu

Sneak peak at the first page of my graphic novel, Avery and the Fairy Circle (coming April 1st), and an ode to my hometown :)

thing

i wish i was a thing

a real piece of art

i want to be something that somebody enjoyed making i want to be a thing i need to be a thing maybe some interesting art that she loves i want my artist to love her creation

the piece of art she made me

it's not my fault

i'll tell myself

but maybe i'm lying i seem to be good at that but how can it be my fault if i tried so hard maybe it really doesn't matter how much i try

i'll never be good enough for her