Now we look away as we soon cross eyes, and as if my soul wasn’t in grey scale mess already, a few more coal is dropped inside.

How many more steps deeper into the fuzzy water until we reach the madness?

I walk amongst pretty girls wearing heart shaped sunglasses. I can’t get what they’re saying when they wear their glasses, when I can’t see past the skin and clothes. I can see the words but don’t hear the meaning.
Monologuing masks again.

unsends:

im permanently emotionally damaged but it’s chill, I’m chill

(via stucklimbo)

vogachella:

Grab certainty by the hand and dive into the void.
Drown the thoughts that weight you down and then let it all sink in the mist.
Float back to a shore of uncertainty, where you feed on your dreams and get drunk with ignorance.

what do they call me as a joke when I act crazy?

But I’m crazy all the time.

I’m the ivy you could look at but not touch.

I’m the one that grows on old and weak foundations searching for a brighter light.

You could look at but not touch.

Don’t go near the ivy. It’s poisonous.

I’m not crazy all the time.

I can play ‘make believe’, play the girl next door, if you don’t want to see me whole.

You know enough yet you want to smell it’s flowers and, maybe, who knows, steal some too.

Still urge to get closer.

When you know it’s toxic.

I’m crazy if I let you see me.

I let you see me if you’re indifferent to me.

I touch you when I don’t care.

If you pick it’s flowers you can’t expect to come out unharmed and you can’t expect the flowers to remain the same for long.

I’m crazy if I let you see me.

I let you see me if I trust you enough.

I stay away when I care.

So why still try and pick some flowers?