She's eating the food with her eyes.

"You can't have my heart, the doctor told me I'd be dead without it."

Chubby cheeks is a disease. Try not to catch it.

Sasuke and Sakura.

God.

Everything was ugly. Too damn ugly. If she could, she would throw a bucket of glitter and honey over the starless sky, and city, and you (because you don't like sticky things but you're also pretty) and anything else that was in her path. But she couldn't because she was laying on the cement floor with trailing thoughts and spilt coffee.

–when the dance is through, it's me and you. come on, would it really be so bad?

It always happens to her. Bad things. Horribly embarrassing bad (badbad) things. The breaking of glass, the scraping of knees against asphalt floors, those horrible prom night, pink Iseeyou pustules that pops up unexpectedlyexpectedly and the 

I-really-like-you-but-I'm-making-a-big-fool-out-of-myself-right-now-so-I'll-leave moments. Bad. It was always an ending to another beginning for her.

And then there was him. You. The can I slap you and kiss you at the same time boy. 

"It's not the end of the world."

"Of course it's not, if it was, I'd actually have some luck."

"Hn."

And then you'd do that funny little thatsnotevenaword sound. You were able to amuse me and stop me with that insignificant little noise.

She would get mad, throw a fit and then he would smile his smile, your rare kodak moment smile, his something-to-die-for smiles. My Sasuke smiles.

–all we can do is keep breathing now.

Instead of changing the world and making it a better place with glitter and honey, we lay on the cold asphalt ground under the starless sky with spilt coffee and trailing thoughts and smudged smiles with bad luck and broken glasses because I'd rather be sleeping and dreaming about tomorrow with you.


–you close your eyes and kiss your hand, then you blow it

Someone who cares.

Even though I'm supposed to be studying or get ready for an art practical thats due on Friday, I'm wasting my day on facebook and twitter(no one likes you. Be gone oh bad ones) 


And I got the nicest comment from somebody with blonde hair like the sun, sky blue eyes and the happiest smile (IN THE WORLD)


You made my day, and for that... thanks a bunch.

From Yesterday.

I am the one from yesterday. That darkdark day, that twenty-four hour day, that


"You owe me something that you took a long time ago" day.


I was the one; with the chipped nails and shining pocket knife; the one with a crooked smile and sunken cheeks; crazed eyes with the past glowing from behind and the one that spoke softly with pain. Kneeling into the dirt, clenching my fingers into the soil and your gaze shook me and my thoughts. 


Looking at you, watching you stand proudly in your hazy shadow like a ghost, wearing your masked smile (I'm smiling because I don't want to) like a second skin and, 


I said, with a voice I didn't recognize


"You're going to wish you didn't wake up today"


Yesterday was a long time ago.

Make this week go faster.

Nobody likes exams. Unless you've got a knack for being smart. Pfft.


Wrote Afrikaans today. Art theory tomorrow. 


Wish me good luck. 

"Make morning into a key and throw it into the well, 
Go slowly, my lovely moon, go slowly. 
Let the morning sun forget to rise in the east, 
Go slowly, my lovely moon, go slowly."

Life is a train. Get on board.

Crystal Methylin.

By Uncle R.


I can take you anywhere, it’s for you to suggest or determine the route. Its when you seek – for lone and lost that I extend my helping hand and when it seems your saviours arrived, confusion sets in just to find your soul is compensated. 

They say cruel is kind. For I have many names. Labels a plenty, such is my repertoire, a vast misdemeanor a plot to entice all of your kind – I travel with you – and pacify your dreams when dread leads you in and failure beckons. 

I’ll consume all your thoughts and I will call you, “friend”. Fly with you over mountains and glide over tides that never end. And when you fall asleep in that troubled state I’ll make sure you reach your insomniac fate. 

My strategy is simple: NO ONE ESCAPES. 

My enlistment never wavers. No need to be brave. You call my name as crystal appear, you’ll feel warm even loved with no burden to bear. For I am you, a startling choice, a whisper of lies as truth escapes. The calmness I emit when you hallucinate, the speed of your thoughts that races by. I persist with you sharing the wrath, the spiraling circus that you call life. 

For all that you strive for I can embrace, I’m versatile and agile as long as you breathe. Your colleagues and friends with their socials and trends introduce me amongst their peers. For I am everlasting, with no conscience to bear, recruiting them all, preparing for their fall.

It holds no meaning this loyalty brigade as your veins harden and expand, and as you transport me to all of your organs that I have seen, your memory in colours that even you have never seen. 

So rise to my calling, my loyal slave, bow to my power as I dictate every nerve in your system that call out to me, I shall answer.. “you will never be free.” 
As I put you on your path, destructively. You commit only to me. My many cloaks and masks that covers thee, will hide your reflections in the light you cannot see, 

I’ll even die with you, if it means you’ll be safe, such is the trust that you bestow on me. 
In all your confusion and all of your fears, exist no emotion as you profess.
Any resemblance that once was you, my apostle of doom that multiplies every second and each after noon as you die when I leave your soul, crystal exclaims 


“a victory to be told”.

"I may seem crazy or painfully shy and these scars wouldn't be so hidden if you would just look me in the eye. I feel alone here and cold here though I don't want to die but the only anesthetic that makes me feel anything kills inside."

Dream drug.

It's strange. It's a relationship (I don think it's a relationship). It's something safe that they we have. Like the giggles and the stomach clenching and 

I'm not talking to you for five minutes. 

They talk about everything and blankblankblank. Words filled with nothingness that leaves them with a light breeze, lingering glances and a bad after taste. 

She always liked those glances though. because sometimes, when she saw them (when she gave them) it'd make her feel like she wasn't the only one stuck. 

Stuck. Stuck with a heavily stacked contract with blank pages. Torn edges. Stuck with her hands tied behind her back and a blindfold 

I don't know what I'm doing, I can't see where my feet are falling and I don't want you. I don't I don't I don't.

He knew her, Iknowyou, he knew too much and it scared her because she didn't know him (I don't want to know you because I like you too much for my/her/your/his own good). 

She doesn't think about anything, and it's all in the music, droplets of golden rainbow dripping through her soul as she tries, tries, tries to be this paradigm of perfection, silly and smiley and happy, but it's all for him, for him, and sometimes she thinks that no one else sees that because no one sees no one ever sees and it's like an addiction. 

The more she feeds it, the more she needs it.

I don't won't anybody to notice (She doesn't want him to notice even if her heart thinks otherwise. Stupidheart) because then it'd be real, too real for me to hold above the mountain of silver and clouds and happiness.

Too real for me to let go. Too real for a beginning and too real for an ending 

(make it easier and untie me. before it becomes too real for you and me).