I wish everybody knew how I felt, but I wish it wasn't visible to prying eyes that could care less.
I am as green as the sea, where you've dropped so many emeralds and copper stained chains that they've become entangled through my limbs. I'm immobile. Someone can always fucking make me immobile.
The space between seconds make me sick; I am sick. My throat is sore with vowels and consonants that haven't made it past my tongue, another virus that circulates through your blood race track.
My feet have eskimo kissed with yours, the tips of our soles nuzzling noses. I felt like I could fall backwards, a sea of piranhas would have nothing on me, because I know you, and I felt like I had it.
I would lock you in a treasure chest in the back of my mind. I'd let you collect dust, I'd give you my interest, and let you earn interest.
Because I am what leaks from the ceiling in a chromatographic fashion. I swirl and spiral with the grace of a disease, I am not appealing to you, not appealing to me. I peel through the cracks in your cardboard-esque rooftop and I can't stop twirling out in every direction. I am not a not a sight for eyes, but you break mine.
In ten minutes I will have the crystal, attracting the bloodshot tadpoles that screech out like static electricity, back in my eyes.
Please keep yourself stretched out like a tightrope, because I know I can't pry myself from the appeal of falling down again.
youaresogoodatmaskingmyemotionsforme.
howdoiletthishappeneverytime.
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