whoartgos:

saw your soul on
my dashboard,
beneath layers
of broken glass
and melted plastic.
with every hour
you spill more
and more of your
insides. pressed
your grey heart
once eyes survey
the damage. maybe
you’ll see my note
and write me something
back?  and even
through the deep
timbre of bent steel
and bones, burnt upholstery
and notebook pages i
hear the gears churning. you’re
the same face i’ve
seen before, lingering
just before my
dashboard 

claritea:

Smoke lingers ‘round my fingers from my lipstick-stained cigarette. A blue string of toxicity developed in a lab and packaged quickly for my precious lungs. I inhale the sticky sweet, the dank scent of crystallization brewing in my carbonated blood. It is this realization that has brought me here:…

If only (:

My life philosophy.
Vodka, is the meaning of life.