notes from a black hardcover spiral-bound sketchbook

• my skin is sour and my blood is bitter, I have managed to live past expiration dates
• I like cold water on dry summer days when it cools my heart and fills the spaces in my chest like liquid silver
• I like hot water on dry winter nights when it thaws my lungs and fills the spaces in my chest like liquid gold
• my kink is when people listen to me you know like when I speak
• she smells like flannel button-ups and cinnamon and i want to bury my face in her shoulder
• I am not useless my voice is electric I am energy most dangerous to myself
• trying to tell the things I need apart from the things I need
• glue your fucking eyelids together
• sorry I won't be able to make it I have to stay home and recharge my crystals
• wow how does it feel to have a smile so bright u can harvest it as a renewable energy source
• I could count your eyelashes
• WARNING [!] side effects of Life® may include death
• so many labels on me for so many years I still pick residual adhesive from my skin before bed sometimes
• you can't burn your memories, you can't burn the past (smoke can set you lungs on fire but cigarettes don't touch your heart)
• you get used to people leaving you alone to fall but it is a special kind of betrayal when even the ground abandons your feet
• this is fascist I have a headache
• seeing someone live my dreams that I can't even conjure while asleep
• I want someone to know my skin better than their own and I theirs
• smells like heart-shaped cherry lollipops and lemon soap and brevity
• tell me about your day
• the power in your eyes lights up my side of new york city
• I am glass but you are a marble, I tumble and shatter, invisible on inky asphalt but when people played with you, you never seemed to crack