getting rid of my writers block (hopefully)

ideas, ideas, ideas..

the only place I feel safe is inside my bed.
my eyes close with an uncertain deathly haze as I drift back into the eternal solitude of my nightmares. the only thing that dares keep me company is the imaginary monster I hallucinate in the back of my bedroom.

the only thing im good for is putting my feelings on a silver plate and serving them to you like something you can destroy. thats the only thing you do.

i dream up realities where me and you are meant to be together. me and you, warming each other in the tightest of hugs, me and you, happy together.
i might as well stab this pencil through my chest like the mighty sword it is. what does it matter to you, anyways?

i have your touch imprinted on my skin like a tattoo that i regret. however, i'd rather keep myself forever scarred by your hands than to forget. to forget you, and forget everything you did, and wonder why i keep hurting.

the blood on my hands turns an even deeper crimson. i bled for you. and you still couldn't even begin to care. your eyes of judgement cloud my mind and i'm forever stuck looking over my shoulder because of you. i'm glad this makes you happy.
happy early birthday. because i can't guarantee i'll be alive to see this one.