Deep down he knew she was right, if not for her he wouldn't be here, not the kind of here like in this town, more like in this time, in this world, he wouldn't be standing, he would be the bad kind of grounded, he would be rotting in a box six feet under. that kind of here. He wouldn't have to tell her how great full he was because she knew. She was laced into his thoughts. His mind. She knew every thought she needed to know. She knew every thought. She was connected to him in some cosmic way. She didn't exist. Well, she existed but on another plane. She was real, animate in his mind and heart, and could tamper with reality yet wasn't quite there. She was a force of nature, a spirit, a guide, a friend, a mentor, a mother, a lover, a savior of souls, and destroyer of doubts, she was what he needed. But she was not his to take. His to cultivate. His to tame. Her hair was not made to be brushed down or held in place. Her body was not his to hold. His to consume. He held and consumed what was not his. She is not his.
She is her own before she is anyone else's.
~stay creepy
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strange thoughts
Poetrystrange thoughts is my struggle, my strife, the bad, but also a reminder that there is good, that things truly get better.
