I love you is for those with cotton candy for brains fairy lights and feather boas above their beds.
Its all about the twining of an evil destructive mind. Two halves of the same vile plan. Only I got the short straw I was given both barrels all for my self. In my head there’s a war on and every day they take time out and gang up against me. They tell me they love me have my best interests at heart the world is against us and they know what’s for the best. They are both full of it. I’m too weak to switch off my ears. The whisper their plans .. Louder and louder until they scream all day every day they do not stop until I cry. They tell me they love me but they want me to die.

Unknown Playful - 15 years, 9 months, 10 days ago

No one talks about the monsters. I’m not talking about the ones beneath your bed. it’s the ones you carry with you every second of the day. The one you live with … the one you love and cannot be without.
He is slightly different to the rest. I still see the flame I could not live without.. Its deeply hidden from the cold light of day these days but I know its still there. Every once and again I’ll catch your wings upon it and the pain reminds me that I am alive.
My very own walking talking addiction, once I loved the daily injection loved it so much I forgot how to be myself. I didn’t care, it was all about how good Mr Addiction made me feel… ‘come on world I’m here waiting for you!’ .. Nothing was out of reach everything was possible. Wildness was in his blood and I gladly took my fill.
Now tattered torn and over blown I wake like a scumbag from slumber to find myself going through the daily dose of injections but they aint fun no more.. They make me ill. I am sickened so much so I no longer recognise the reflection in my very own mirror. A prisoner to this catacomb of fat and misery. Still every day the injections the pain it grows and loss takes over. Nothing can break the addiction not even the hateful venom spat daily and the stale vomit of conversations stored. My head is a septic tank I am the floating dead pigeon.

Unknown Playful - 15 years, 9 months, 10 days ago

I want to wrap myself around you, breathe words of reassuring calm into the warmth of your neck. Forgive all of the fear and torment; treat you like a god right here on the hallway floor. But…
This is no scene from the latest geeky girl tames and nets the local rebel low budget movie. We skipped the premier and went straight to DVD years ago.
How many times will you return home in the dead of night trying to hide bloodstains on yet another of your expensive city shirts? When will you realise you can no longer protect me from the depravity that seduces you time after time?
A pang of guilt washes over you as you return home, briefly dulling the chemical explosion that rushes through your open veins. The highs that such vile sickening pleasures bring cannot be found within these pristine walls.
We both know that you will go into the woods again...
Unknown Playful - 16 years, 1 month, 26 days ago

I closed my eyes and had a vision I was hanging from a tree. Not like in those child like days … just like Billie holidays ‘strange fruit’
No one to cut me down, no one to cry at my feet.
There’s no one around,
Just me the tree and the slight breeze that whispers through the autumn leaves …
‘Let go …. Let go …. Let go….’
Her slightly chilled breath leaves a bitter tang upon my dead ears
I hear her better late than never words … not
Hindsight is always the best policy. It can put the world to rights. Like shutting, the stable door prevents the escaped wild mustang wanting his god given freedom.
One mans freedom is another mans condemnation. I love you more than life itself that’s why it’s cruel to keep you like a butterfly caught beneath the beer glass. Freedom road is a little rocky the first few miles but where it leads to … well … that’s the next chapter in the handbook of life.
My eyes will always leak, my smile upside down, my heart heavy and forever filled with love for you… My path is … well it’s the last chapter in the handbook of life. Metaphorically, you understand.
When you’re gone my stubborn heart will break but it will refuse to stop pumping blood, my eyes will be wiped dry by endless tissues and my upside down smile may slip from time to time but there is one thing that could never and will never change …. My love for you.
That is the problem.

Unknown Playful - 16 years, 5 months, 8 days ago

Hold me closer than your favourite grains of sand
Take the bottle from my lips the gun from my trembling hands
Play the songs that take me back
To the getting to know you days

Take it back to a marshmallow time right before the melt
Take it right back there and freeze the frame
Erase all that went sour and that disgraceful final hour

Hold it on screen a picture of us so serene
All wrapped around each other
Like we were the first lovers
When no one could see where I stopped and you began
Entwined like barbs around a new sapling tree
Closer than close, the roughness of my being against the softness of your skin
Slight tender movements causing hurricanes within

Take it right back to that scene
Put it in a frame, hang it on the wall
Let the dust settle upon it and the spiders spin their webs
Ages will pass, moods ebb and flow
But the frame will forever hold the memory
Of our marshmallow bliss
Unknown Playful - 16 years, 5 months, 12 days ago