better to write for myself and have no audience, than to write for you and lose myself

Scratch I can't itch.

Bugs crawling through my blood, itching from the inside.

Caffeinated ankles.

Arms filled with sugar.

The legs are where the spiders live. Tiny little screams to escape.

Someone tear me open.

Look at my insides.

Take my creatures and free them.

Cool me down and then warm me up..

Lick the sugar from my limbs and rub me down with honey, slippery and wet.

And when you get to my heart, wash it clean.

Let the water drain through the cracks so the light can flow back in.

And when you mend me back up..

Do it with bright pink masking tape so everyone can see my scars.

Take my tears and put them in a bucket. Feed them to the spiders.

And then leave me.

Leave me covered in pink tape. With a washed heart and empty.

Empty like new.

Room for something else.

Space.

For you to leave and to come back.

Love. This

Boredom