oxy-whore

[oxy-whore]

“my mattress is both a canvas and a casket. i am a dying art form.”

— smspoetry

[oxy-whore]

“don’t ignore my heart and then lecture me on my liver because liquor isn’t my killer - did you ever consider that maybe you’re the trigger? or does that drink in your hand not taste familiar?”

— smspoetry

[oxy-whore]

“i press red wine to my lips and suddenly i’m seen as just a battleship with hips that sometimes writes shit like this. they gossip to one another and say “she fell off the wagon again” while placing their hand over their not so evolved holes to cover their grin. but, on a stationary bandwagon is the only place they’ll sit. i suppose it’s hard to climb and strive when you have no spine and build your house on a below sea level baseline - no wonder these people make fishing their fucking identity.”

— smspoetry

[oxy-whore]

“suddenly i’m relevant when a photo shows the logo of a drink in my hand and then everyone wants to play “can you spot the wedding band?” i played a sold out apology tour to wolves in sheep clothing - people who get off on my self loathing. nosey strangers send me “i thought that you were sober” and if i don’t explain myself they blame it on bipolar because, silly girl, it’s only deemed composure if there’s exposure. unless there’s photo evidence of your evolution you’re asking for persecution because if they aren’t the audience, they simply don’t trust the revolution. show them the scars on your wrist but only without filter - dance for them, be human but still okay while being off kilter. be likable and motivational and please don’t post this poem because it’s way too confrontational. i don’t owe anyone anything - i know it’s hard to believe but i’m done placing my heart on the sleeves of thieves who, with lotion in their hands, stare at my life through a computer screen. sure, say that you’ll pray for me but just like you, he’s not listening. i finally realized that i control the narrative which is why you don’t know shit - it’s why i’m doing well but i waited until now in this piece to write it. so, cheers to my old puppeteers and for the first time on my social media in years (and listen closely) this poem IS what the fuck it appears.”

— smspoetry

[oxy-whore]

Sometimes there are no lessons

Bad things happen and they hurt

[oxy-whore]

oh my god what if it never happens again? what if i never find someone who makes me feel alive the way you did? what if i spend my whole life looking for someone who makes my heart beat as hard as it did for you but i never find them? what if i settle for less and regret it? what if you were the only one who could make me feel like that and you chose someone else and i’ll never find what i had with you?

[oxy-whore]

[oxy-whore]

[oxy-whore]

i stayed because i thought it was better to have the worst of you than to have none of you at all, but sure enough, you ended up hurting me in the end anyway.

@wordsbreathe c / i just can’t win these games

[oxy-whore]

“Do you ever get that feeling when you’re sitting in your room alone, your thoughts wander, you’re not crying but you just feel sad and empty, replaying moments from your life and wondering. Where did it all go wrong?”

~ colorfulbiscuithandsdiplomat

[oxy-whore]

There is a part of me that will always love you, no matter how much time has passed.

– p.n.

[oxy-whore]

“It’s so fucking painful, the thought of them together. I have never been a possessive person but the idea of him being with her just makes me feel a kind of pain I haven’t felt before.”

— why her and not me

[oxy-whore]

“I am tired in a way that sleep won’t fix anything.”

— fightingborderline

[oxy-whore]

I have died many times

[oxy-whore]

[oxy-whore]

i really wish i could beat the fuck out of myself

[oxy-whore]