fuck. you do always hurt the ones you love. 

ugh. 

and just like that he lost

what defined him as 

a youth.

strange,

how he didn't

feel

anything at

all.

strange.

memory:

every vignette of you and him pelts

                                    you like hail.

your bones ache with every cry --

like a storm that cannot stop.

words you thought would heal

becomes gale

that slits your lips and cuts your heart,

a flood past an abandoned park with

that tree that brims with life;

that tree he promised was yours and his,

marked with the gashes of his knife,

your knife which now indent your wrists.

---

i've been slacking in my writing.
ugh, A' levels drain the inspiration right out of me.
and why am i falling behind on my Disgrace essays?!
i think i will wake up at 8 tomorrow so i can exercise early and start studying earlier.
my thoughts are clearly frazzled.
i need to start writing in a more sophisticated fashion.
goodnight.

burn, burned, burnt.