Journals From A Dreamer by sunny

Hey I guess

honeybeeboy — 2018-10-18 20:37:27 UTC

Now Playing: Times Are Hard For Dreamers- Amelie
10/18/18

Note: If you're reading this you're a loser and I love you.

Alright, let's introduce myself. I'm Grayson Lynn, your friendly local trans guy. I like Broadway a whole lot and acting is a dream career. However, that's not going to good, so I'd like to be an author/illustrator, singer/songwriter, or a teacher. I'd like to say I's a daydreamer. Daydream is a nice word. It sounds innocent and ethereal. Daydreaming really is your own little world, a mental disconnect. However, Daydreams are your reality. When you make your reality a dream-state you become so much happier. That doesn't come free though. Being distracted isn't all that fun when your grades reflect that.
But who want their days to be a repeat of the last?

Now Playing: Santa Fe- Newsies

Your's truly,

Spaced Øut

This is a song

honeybeeboy — 2018-10-18 21:17:52 UTC

Now Playing: For Forever- Dear Evan Hansen

I've been trying to write a song.
It's had a lot of different Titles. Finally I settled on "brother." So here's a little bit of it.

Pretty girls and little flowers
Thirty seconds to an hour
I could just stay here
In my pretty little day dream
where thirty seconds may seem like years
so brother you know that I'm safe here
Somebody Set me free
Someone tell me where my mind should be
I'm someone's little brother, and I've got some place to be
somebody set me free.

I'm gonna write alot here.

That one Boy,

Spaced Øut

You Know I Love You So

honeybeeboy — 2018-10-18 22:47:20 UTC

Now Playing: Yellow- Coldplay

You never fall out of love with someone. You get over it. You climb mountains and when you fall, it doesn't mean that you didn't climb that mountain.
Sometimes you try again, sometimes you reach the top.
Sometimes you fall.
That's okay.
Never fall out of love. Fall out of hurt.

Now Playing: I'm Not Okay- MCR

I am okay. I'm super lucky to have the people in my life that i do. I appreciate the people in my life almost as much as i appreciate words that mean things that I can't begin to wrap my head around.

xx-

Spaced Out

One Man Operation

honeybeeboy — 2018-10-19 00:45:12 UTC

Now Playing: Partner in Crime- Tuck Everlasting
My partner is great smh.
they're my moonlite and my stars
even the static in my head is their colors

xx

Spaced Out

Sleepy boy

honeybeeboy — 2018-10-19 01:03:19 UTC

Now Playing: Pastels- SXYE
Goodnight all. Lots of love to all of you.
stay hydrated and rest up.
The sun'll come out tomorrow.

Sweet Dreams,

Spaced Out

Good Morning

honeybeeboy — 2018-10-19 15:41:01 UTC

Now Playing: Once and For All- Newsies

I'm hanging out with my baby cousin today and he's so silly and sweet. We had an Old Macdonald Jam session and I'm one happy boy.
Looking forward to the rest of the long weekend.

'til then,

Spaced Out

Kate's Kart

honeybeeboy — 2018-10-19 18:06:04 UTC

Now Playing: It's All Happening- Bring it On

Kate's Kart is a memorial for "Baby Kate" who was born June 2006. Soon after, her family was told she was missing her pulmonary artery. In 2008 despite her journey to help her lead a normal happy life, Kate Passed away. After that, Kate's Kart was born. With her family's memorial money they started a book kart at a local hospital for hospitalized children. After that, Kate's Kart grew into a non-profit organization that provides free books to children.

Now, I was at the hospital today, because my sister needed a simple checkup. My little sister and I sat together in the waiting room, when Kate's Kart wheeled around the corner. Off the kart I picked a book called Every Day, about a person who wakes up in a different body every day. Every Person has a different past. However, no matter who's body "A" is in, they are always in love with the same girl. It's a super great book so far, and speaks about love being beyond gender and appearance. The next book is called "Another Day" I'm looking forward to reading that as well.
Finally, I'd really like to read David's "Will Grayson, Will Grayson". From my understanding, it is about two boys named Will Grayson who meet and have to solve some problem, and eventually fall in love with each other. I am super excited to read these books, especially "Will Grayson, Will Grayson" . Sadly I have no money for books, so that' fun.

Anyways, that's not the point. The point is if you are able to donate books or money to Kate's Kart, Please do! If not you can read her story, tell your story, and donate here.
Spread the word!

xx

Spaced Out

the whole universe

honeybeeboy — 2018-10-20 00:46:40 UTC

Now Playing: The Scientist- Coldplay

look at the stars, look how they shine for you. <3
I miss you a whole heck of a lot. Please don't let those bad vibes get to you.
You Know i love u so.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YSjsNzffUGQ
hope this makes you smile, love.
I hope things go well

Now Playing: Be Okay- SXYE
https://open.spotify.com/track/63wqP4y45lEpJVyALGn9nF

I know it may be too soon to say this but i love you and really care about you.

Your Friend,
Your Best Friend,
Your Brother,

Grayson

Good Morning.

honeybeeboy — 2018-10-20 15:33:23 UTC

Now Playing: Alright- Anthony Ramos

"Little brother believe me, You can do anything you set your mind to. I've learned a thing or two. We're gonna be alright."

Today's going to be a good day. Well, it will be if you start. Go out and do good things.

xx

Spaced Out

A poem about what matters

honeybeeboy — 2018-10-21 00:20:32 UTC

Now Playing: Only Us- Dear Evan Hansen

There are 7.53 billion people on this earth

And each and every one of us take our valuable time to think that we matter

You may not believe it because your self hatred is much more than-

No, because you woke up this morning and opened your eyes.

You opened your eyes and you probably don’t remember the first thing you saw

But you did. You saw because you opened your eyes.

You opened your eyes even though you were tired

Each and every one of us did

We were all tired.

We still are.

But you opened your eyes and took your valuable time to believe that you matter.

I know this because Sometimes i think stupid thoughts. Like that maybe i should paint a picture and make a huge mess. Maybe i should make a mess. Get a job in California. Kill myself. Get a job at taco bell, so in essence kill myself.

My mind tells e stupid things but i don’t do them because i opened my eyes and saw

I know this because if we didn't take this valuable time nobody would work at taco bell in California

Nobody would have applied for that job.

Or any job for that matter.

Anywhere.

I know this because people fall in love. People fall in love even though they know it will hurt sometimes. People are scared but they still do things like jump out of planes with parachutes and fall in love.

Love doesn't have a parachute.

Each and every taco bell worker opened their eyes and saw.

Even though they were tired.

Have you ever been to a taco bell at 3am?

That’s just sad. You must have been tired.

Were all sad. Were all tired.

All the sad people opened their eyes and saw even though they were tired.

All the sad people in the world can see the future.

I know this because they opened their eyes their eyes and saw.

They saw that tomorrow they opened their eyes again, even though they were tired.

Because 7.53 billion people on this earth are sad, and sick,and tired and in love,and jumping out of planes with parachutes.

But they opened their eyes and saw.

Matter has inertia and occupies physical space.

Inertia is an existing state of rest or uniform motion in a straight line until that state is changed by an external force.

Matter always has a purpose because it’s always there, or always moving towards something. Even if it’s moving in the opposite direction of where it needs to be, it’s still going somewhere.

Matter without inertia isn’t matter, it’s just a waste of space.

Objects that occupy physical space without inertia don’t exist.

Occupants of physical space without a purpose don’t exist.

Therefore, all 7.53 billion of us that take up physical space have the audacity to believe that they have inertia.

And i guess they do.

So, every time that each and every one of us opened their eyes and saw,

Every time they were sad

Every time that they were tired.

Every time that they were sick

Every time that they saw the next day

Opening their eyes and seeing,

Every time they applied for that job,

Every time they dressed in their little taco bell uniform,

Every time they jumped out planes with parachutes,

Every time they fell in love even though it’ll hurt sometimes,

Every time they mattered.

There are 7.53 billion people who opened their eyes and saw.

And that’s what matters.

XX-

Spaced Out

Spend every day like were meeting for the first time.

honeybeeboy — 2018-10-21 13:20:01 UTC

Now Playing: Superboy and the Invisible Girl- Next to normal

People jump out of planes with parachutes reluctantly.
Falling in love doesn't have a parachute.
And i think i'm falling.

"she offers me a free cup of coffee, but i never touch the stuff, besides... i'm gonna need more speed than that."

It's what I do, I feel. We both spend our money on things that break. Like people. But you should know that it's what I do. I dream.

Your not my oxygen but i breathe your air. Some day I'll call it love. It probably is now, but i'll wait to call it that until it's real. Until i know it's real, because you don't fall out of love. You fall out of hurt.

XX-

Spaced Out

Childhood Fictional Character Crushes

honeybeeboy — 2018-10-22 01:22:41 UTC

In honor of Hocus Pocus's 25th anniversary

Now Playing: I put a spell on You

Sorry. You know I had to do it to 'em

Thackery Binx- Hocus Pocus
Max Dennison- Hocus Pocus
Mary Sanderson- Hocus Pocus
Draco Malfoy- Harry Potter
Hermione Granger- Harry Potter
Luna Lovegood- Harry Potter
Miss Honey- Matilda (shes rlly sweet what do you expect)
Spot Conlon- Newsies
Jack Kelly- Newsies
Jack Skellington- TNBC (I'm only partially joking)

I feel no shame.

thats a lie.

oof.

Spaced Out

What The Hell

honeybeeboy — 2018-10-22 23:44:48 UTC

Now Playing:

I'm too tired to put on music
I'm too tired
I wan't to earn things back but I don't have the energy
I want to get that job but i dont have the energy to write that stupid resume
I dont have the energy to go anywhere

and i want to go so far

Somebody just fucking stop it Stop something Someone stop something because I don't have the energy to go
The will is there The way is harder to find

Somebody fucking help me I don't know what the hell I'm doing wrong

Please

spaced out

A letter to my future self

honeybeeboy — 2018-10-23 23:52:17 UTC

Now Playing: I Never Planned on You- Newsies

Dear Grayson,

If you're still here, thank you.
Don't go growing up on me too fast. Please.
What have you done now that you're all mature and stuff?
Are you teaching? Singing? Acting? Drawing? Counselling?
Speaking? Writing?

Please, never stop writing. Never stop speaking. Never stop caring. There are 7.53 billion people in the world. What are you waiting for? Jump out of some planes. Go paint a picture. Go make a mess. Go fall in love.
Even though it will hurt sometimes.
7.53 billion. And you can save the world. Everybody can. Even if you only save one person ever in your entire life.

It's okay if that person is you.

And Grayson, when you're sitting alone in your little apartment, waiting for someone to come home, ask yourself, "is this it for you? is this all you'll ever do?"
If you answer yes, go out and do.

Even though it will hurt sometimes.

xx
Spaced Out

Months that feel like years.

honeybeeboy — 2018-10-24 00:04:17 UTC

Now Playing- Cecily Smith

wait... no. that doesn't feel right.

Now Playing- The Thrill of First Love

It's been weeks. I can't stop listening to that song..

It's been months that feel like years and I'll never hear the lyrics the same way.

Songs don't change their meaning, they just change who they're about.

xx
Spaced Out

Don't cry over spilled anything

honeybeeboy — 2018-10-24 23:23:11 UTC

Now Playing- Papaoutai- Stromae

I'm listening to music. The words I hear, i know the meaning of. I can only speak a few.
I am listening to her. The words I hear, I know the meaning of. I only know a few. I only knew her.
I felt her feelings. The emotions I felt, i knew what they were. I only knew the meaning of a few.
The lyrics of the songs I hum, but can't quite sing,are the words i traced on her lips.
On her arms.
On her eyes.
On the freckles that laced like cobwebs on her cheeks and chest.
Mon Amour, Mon ami.
There's a song I know the meaning of. I can sing the words. I can feel the words on my lips floating like melancholy melodies.
I can feel her on my lips like poison apples and spindle pricks.
And she was my fairy tale.
That song reminds me of her. I can't hear the words anymore. I only hear her telling me that we'd make it.
We'd make it.
They remind me of her.
I can feel them on my lips like words i know the meaning of. I can feel them like the freckles that laced like cobwebs.
Like happily ever after and first dances.
They remind me of her, and this time it doesn't make me miss her. It makes me want them.
We'll make it.
She reminds me of spilled strawberry syrup. Like sweet nostalgia that tasted like cautious first kisses and interlaced fingers. She tastes like she's never broken a rule.
They remind me of little rebellions. Hairline fracture scars that were purposeful, because the deep cuts are accidents. Like jumping from broken windows and electric guitars.
Like electric forests.
Like sparks flying.
Like not knowing the difference from love and fear.
It's exhilarating.
I love every second of it.
They remind me of her, but not trying to come up with ways to stall inevitable things. Not forgetting inevitable things. Not falling apart when things happen before you can say no.
Without having to ask "will you be happy without me."
Without hoping she wont say "yes." Because all you want is for her to be with you.
No. You want her to be happy.
I want her to be happy.
Because even though the words I write are blurred by the tears falling down my red spotted cheeks, like the freckles that laced like cobwebs, I am happy.

She was right.
It's for the best.
She was right.
She had faith in a god I never believed in and I had faith in her.
She was right.
It would be okay in the long run. She knew i'd be happy someday.
She was right.

We made it.

Post-book blues

honeybeeboy — 2018-10-25 23:02:33 UTC

Now Playing: The Needle Empire: SXYE

Thin wood grain patterns, artificial nature traces it's way on my fingertips. I don't feel for me. I feel for her. I feel for him. I feel for them. I feel for the world they live in and my fingertips only grasp their world and open it. I should feel guilty. This is their privacy. I'm reading the journal that belongs to a non-existent world, and I'm finished. The world is gone and mine is still here. All I'm left with is thin wood grain patters, artificial nature. My fingertips trace words in the air, or the tears on my cheeks, or grasp at what i want to hold on to.
As I grow up I realize that fairy tales are the realest feelings. They start, and they end. Nothing is unanswered. As I get older, the books, the novels, the magazines, the newspapers I read lack happy endings.

And for some guilty-pleasure reason, that's not what upsets me. I'm upset because it's over. I don't know what happens next.

It hurts because it feels all to real. It feels like ending a cycle and restarting it.

Wake up, Panic, fight, become tired, pretend, sleep
Wake up, Panic, fight, become tired, pretend, sleep
Wake up, Panic, fight, become tired, read, breathe.
Panic. Fight. Become Tired. Pretend. Sleep.

i don't know what happens next.

xx

Spaced out

Remember

honeybeeboy — 2018-10-30 23:38:52 UTC

When I see her, I scream words that don't matter to me. I scream words that she doesn't believe. I scream words and she doesn't know what they mean. I scream words because I'm searching for me like she...
never did. She would remember the words. But she forgot.
There are things you choose to remember.
Remember the colors pink and purple mixed to make blue in your little static mind and all you could think was... remember this.
You will remember your first kiss.
You will remember the first kiss you stopped to enjoy because you never stop fearing being caught until you are.
You will remember early Tuesday evening when you said 'I love you' and didn't care what happened next.
You will remember only caring about love.
You will remember when you didn't care, and only then are you young again.
You will forget the times you plead.
you will forget the times you would have killed.
You would have given an arm and a leg to get an arm and a leg back.
You will remember pastel endings and purple clouds.
You will remember spindle prick kisses and girls that were your fairy tale.
You will remember spilled strawberry syrup.
You will remember thing wood grain patters and freckles that laced like cobwebs.
You will remember opening your eyes in the morning.
Even if you forgot.

xx
Spaced Out.

Remember

honeybeeboy — 2018-10-31 00:00:33 UTC

Good afternoon

honeybeeboy — 2018-11-03 16:17:12 UTC

Now Playing: Broadway Here I Come

Let your dreams soar today! You may not be able to reach the stars but you’ve can dream.

And today that’s close enough.

XX
SPACEDOUT

Dreaming with a fallback

honeybeeboy — 2018-11-06 01:25:15 UTC

Now Playing: Anybody Have a Map?

I’ve got pizza money and caviar dreams.
In my mind I’m a fulltime dreamer and a part time realist.
In reality I’m a fulltime student and a part time artist.
I’ll be a part time artist for the rest of my life.
My dreams are so big and I am so small.
You spend money on the transparency of your watercolours, but here I am feeling guilty for how watered-down the taste of my dream is.
My lips are chapped like it’s the coldest winter yet my heater is on full blast. I haven’t picked up a blending pencil in weeks, because I Don’t like the way my art looks.
Why did I give up.
Why did I retire.
I don’t want to be a full time realist.

Get out there and dream with a fallback.
Don’t fall back without reaching for the top rung of the ladder.

I can’t wake up..

honeybeeboy — 2018-11-11 21:27:04 UTC

Never have I been so entranced by trying to fall asleep. I’m trying so hard,because I’m so tired.
I try, but I dont.
Why is it that as soon as you need something it tumbles out of reach.
As if it was like a feather that floated away as you tried to grasp it. Maybe if I caught it would take me.

I could fly too.

XX
Spaced Out

Hi

honeybeeboy — 2018-11-11 21:50:37 UTC

Can you read my mind?
And if you can, is it helping me? Or is it making you worse?
Can you breathe my air?
And if you can, are you okay?
Or are you sick too?
Can you hear me?
And if you can, can you stay here for a while?
Or will you leave too?
Maybe that’s what keeps me on the edge.
You don’t have to leave too.
I can get there on my own.

Bye, maybe we’ll talk later

One Last Time

honeybeeboy — 2018-11-12 23:14:14 UTC

Do not strain yourself

Sustain yourself

One day you will realize all your pain is contained within yourself

I hear every day

“I have no reason to go on”

Just you wait, and promise me you’ll stay strong.

Do not give your life away

Not for a day

Do not let another take over your fight

Your hour your day your week,

Your life

It has reason

You are a reason

The person you would let take your life is your reason

And the people who would let you do the same is a reason

Live for that reason.

Your reasons are like a packet of seeds

Seeds you believe do not care about your well being

Or what’s under your sleeves

The people you grieve

Your reason is a packet of seeds

Plant them please and handle them with care

Watch your reason grow into something beautiful

Let them all stare

As petals dance amongst the gray

A swift ballet

If you only live another day.

If you turn your back on your garden

Someone will ask “beg your pardon,”

They’ll say “Do you know who planted this beautiful garden”

I’ll tell them “Yes, they were an actor in a movie they never starred in”

And you’ll think to yourself

What a terrible crime

Because life is a job, but you cannot work part-time

You’ll think

God, I wish I could say I love you one last time

I wish I could have had a kiss goodbye

I wish I could have laughed one last time

Danced one last time

Smiled one last time

You’d even think

I wish I could feel pain one last time

Run away as they call you names one last time

Bite your lip as they watched you in shame one last time

Because nobody was ready to say goodbye

Let me hear my name one last time

So please even on your darkest days stay strong and think

“I can do this one last time”

And the next time say

“Just one last time”

And when it gets brighter

Life becomes a pass-time

So please, give yourself that one last time.

Fairy Bread

honeybeeboy — 2018-11-13 01:56:42 UTC

Now Playing: The Middle-Jimmy Eat World

If you haven’t noticed, the songs in my “now playing” mean something about the entry. Today’s is a little more difficult to understand. It’s about coping.

I don’t know what went wrong today. Something inside of me just clicked off. I was walking down a dark hallway.
The walls were closing in.
But I knew there was an end. I couldn’t open the door a the end of the hallway. I couldn’t even reach.
However, I was met with a light switch, so I could see how to get to that door.
The girl who planted seeds and called them butterflies in my chest.
She was my fairy bread.
The woman who sang me to sleep when she was the only one there.
She was my fairy bread.
The boy who told me that it was gonna be alright.
He is my fairy bread.
The person who told me they cared about me.
They are my fairy bread.
However, real life fairy bread doesn’t have feelings.
Fairy bread plants nonpareil seeds and calls them butterflies.
Fairy bread reminds you of songs that lulled you to sleep.
Fairy bread reminds you that it’s gonna be alright.
Fairy bread reminds you that someone cares.
Because... fairy bread brings you back to days where people cared.

A special thanks to Kai and Micheal for reminding me that people care.

A special thanks to my fairy bread.

XX
Fairy boy

Stop. Please Stop.

honeybeeboy — 2018-11-14 00:00:04 UTC

I can’t do it.
I can’t do it.
I can’t do it.
I can’t do it.
I can’t do it.

Just fucking stop before I do.

Forgive Me

honeybeeboy — 2018-11-14 12:39:48 UTC

Now Playing: Remember how we forgot.

Forgive Me.
I wrote those words on my wrist to remind myself that I could forgive myself for the words i called me.
I wrote those words with my fingertips on my arms instead of razor blades.
I’m going to write those words until my arms are forgiven.
Until my fingertips sting.
I wrote those words because I can fly goddamnit.
I wrote those words because I can fly.

And I’m gonna fly until I believe it.
I can fly goddamnit.
And I’m gonna fly.

XX
Spaced Out

Beautiful Things

honeybeeboy — 2018-11-14 16:30:32 UTC

Now Playing: Pastels

Let me tell you a beautiful thing.
There are things that are good. Things that are beautiful and ethereal and almost holy.
Sacred like the shine of stars even after they die out.
Stars flickering out like light bulb wishes and candle flame dreams.
You still see them.
You still feel them.
They just aren't there.
Love like a light-switch legacy.
Photographers take pictures of horrible things and make them beautiful.
Pain flickers out like melodic melancholy Christmas lights.
One. By one. By one.
You can still see it.
Feel it.
Taste it.
Hear it.
Believe it.
It just isn't there.
Clumsy first kisses and falling of bikes.
Getting lost in the woods after long murder-mystery adventures.
Pretty princess dresses when you'd rather be the king.
Light bulb wishes and candle flame dreams.
Love like a light switch legacy.
Screams in the back of your head that sound like whispers now that you've slammed the door.
When the light bulb bursts, you pick up the glass.
Not because you can see it.
Not because you can feel it.
But because it's still there.
And that is a beautiful thing.

XX
Spaced Out

Waiting For A Miracle

honeybeeboy — 2018-11-19 14:41:00 UTC

Now Playing: Life Turns on a Dime

Rubber Bands Snap, Snap, Snap, Like your'e trying to forget.
Like you're trying to not fall.
Trying to not fall again.
And i'm trying not to snap rubber bands because it's making me fall.

But I'm trying to Snap, Snap, Snap out of it.

Remember how we forgot all the times we fell.
Fell in love.

Now I'm falling out of it.

XX
Spaced Out

And Her Favorite Color Was Yellow. Work in progress

honeybeeboy — 2018-12-02 00:34:51 UTC

There was a girl I knew. She had third grade under her feet and a third of a notebook paper folded in her pocket. She was a girl that thought love was chasing someone around the playground, and her favorite color was yellow. All of her friends were boys that knew more than her. There Were Red boys, blue boys, and green boys, and her favorite color was yellow. I knew a girl who knew show-tunes like the lovesick lullabies I wrote for her. She knew the name of beauty but would never give herself the title. She was a love that couldn’t love herself, and her favorite color was yellow. She carried an umbrella that matched her dress. She carried that thing like it was the sun. Her fingertips burned, but not from carrying the light of my life, but from how they lace with mine. I was a yellow boy and her favorite color was yellow. I know a woman who needed happy colors in her life and so she pretended the deepest of red and blues were shining. She created a boy who was so sad in his pink skin, so he tore it blue until it bled. She created a boy who spoke venom laced red words and she called them yellow. I’m so sorry that I was so colorblind to see that she couldn’t see me. I knew a person who was the most beautiful of greens. I won’t lie when I say my favorite color is yellow but I happen to fall in love with their blue eyes every day. I don’t want them feeling that way but love, that’s life. Life isn’t always yellow. I love them when they’re blue, when their yellows are outweighed by reds and purples. I love them and my favorite color is yellow. People ask me, "why yellow?"
Well, I knew a boy who’s paper cuts glistened blue because they weren’t really paper cuts. I knew a boy who’s tears fell red because he only cried angry. I knew a boy who tore his pretty pink skin blue until it bled. He was the same boy who had fifth grade under his feet and a heart beat under his fingertips because it was all he could hear in his ears. His breathing staggered like the waves of a crystal blue ocean. I knew a boy who thought love was chasing someone around the playground, and his favorite color was yellow.
That boy bled blue and cried red.
He knew a girl.
And her favorite color was yellow.

Skyscrapers

honeybeeboy — 2018-12-18 15:19:16 UTC

I didnt ask to feel butterflies like bear traps.Wings of metal teeth tear at tissue as if the inside is really that bad. They wouldn't like it out here.
Nonetheless, they attempt to break from their heart shaped cocoon. An endless endeavor from the inside out.
They claw.
They bite.
They feverishly pick at their scars and draw blood.
They beg.
They plead.
And they're crying "Please,help,does anybody hear me?!"
Does anybody hear me?
She makes butterflies turn to cotton candy clouds. They blind me with pinks and purples. Words become incoherent rags of the gown that I want to sew for her. Word after every timely, elegant word laced together with participles and conjunctions.
Disjointed phrases of palaces I could build from paragraphs whisper words to me that feel like sleeping through the night soundly for once. If only I could make her feel that.
Because she showed me that those big lives in small towns can become small in big cities. Her eyelashes stem sympathetic skyscrapers. Her irises walk with me down long city streets. They lead me down dark alleyways like the back of her hands. I can't help but think that maybe she's been here before. Minor inconveniences become death wishes and she says "me too." And immediately I can't smile because I know it's true. I want her to know that its not just her falling through. Her butterflies become bear traps, and I say "me too."
I fight.
I fall.
I fail.
I whisper.
I breathe.
"It's me. I'm here. Can you hear me?"
Does anybody hear me?

xx

Grayson

To-
The girl who makes my most dreaded classes something to look forward to. For you, a brand new set of numbers. For you, who takes horrible things and makes them beautiful.

Why

honeybeeboy — 2019-01-11 16:20:34 UTC

Why *s i* t*** ***n I w***e a l*** s*** I th*** o* so**b***
e***?

Hey,

honeybeeboy — 2019-01-11 19:43:03 UTC

I ***t n*** yo** s****** i* y** r**l** h** t* l**** m* l**e ***s

Here's to You.

honeybeeboy — 2019-01-15 19:47:00 UTC

Thank you for coming to school today instead of sleeping in.
Thank you for smiling when I noticed you were back.
Thank you for wearing that red sweatshirt that I love, with a pair of black jeans.
Blue and red is distracting.
Thank you for your glasses.
Thank you for staying after class.
thank you for telling me "it's okay" before I could tell you I was sorry.
I shouldn't have wasted your time, but you stayed.
So thank you.

in a dream state

honeybeeboy — 2019-01-15 19:53:58 UTC

so there i was.
i was in my room, with pasty white looking hands, blushing red at the knuckles and tips of my fingers. i found my way out the door and too my yellow bike, probably bigger than i was. the entire world had a vintage filter, covering like a fog. except for me, and my yellow bike, outlined like a cartoon. except for you, like a moving sticker. except for us, more saturated than the rest of the world. so i biked to you. there you were, in your red jacket and black jeans. we got into a red car and found our way to a bowling alley, or something of the sort. it went on. i wasn't supposed to meet with you, so every bike ride was sacred. however, with every meeting, we were safe again. today, i wanted you to meet me. so you did. and so did she. and we were more saturated than my Polaroid picture of a bedroom. whoever was in charge, was angry. so you left. i begged and pleaded for you to stay. you turned back to me, your hands still at your sides,pale but not blushing. you told me you'd come back. but you didn't. i waited, and waited,and waited. i found my way out the door and to my yellow bike. before i could leave, a red car pulled into my front lawn. my feet screamed at me to run. but i thought it would be you. so i waited. he came out of his little red car wearing a mask, dull, not cartoon-like. he took his time, instead of skipping frames like you and i in my stop motion dream. my feet told me to go, but maybe it would be you. so i waited. he had a knife. my body took over this time, so i found my way to the garage door. i shut it quickly, but he was quicker. go inside, lock the door. go inside, lock the door.go inside, lock the door.
it could have been you. so i waited. he came at me, with his weapon in hand and his bag in his other. he took off his mask, dropped his knife and hugged me.
i knew it was you all along.
Though reluctant,i let you and your bag into my house. you were sticker-like again, and smiling. your fingertips were flushed a scarlet pink. I let you into my room, my heart light like candy floss.
we skipped frames in our flip-book. maybe i lost them somewhere, or maybe they are better forgotten. when our story continued, she sat on my fingers, wings flitting gently. a faerie or pixie of some sort. she acted like a children's television show.
'can you help me find my shoe laces?" she asked
and so we searched.
i heard footsteps. i told you to hide in my closet before anybody could find you. but you were already gone.
my heart ached for you.
when she came into my room, she was fuming. she asked for my cell phone, and i complied. it hurt. i wanted to call for you and ask if you were okay. she saw the notifications on my phone from you. she told me to delete them.
i read them before i did though.
you are going to be alright.
delete
we are going to be alright.
delete.
I know. i know we will be alright.
I woke up.
but the anemoia of the moment is still burned into my mind.

A Letter to Wherever You Are- WIP

honeybeeboy — 2019-01-28 20:09:05 UTC

I once had a dream in which a girl with a two stringed ukulele sang a song about magnacolour dust. Apparently magnacolour dust doesn't exist,but her half a second of a song sticks with me like the fragile lies I've listened to and the "i love you" whispers. And with fifteen minutes left of a class my mind drifts back to magnacolour dust and that eerie Christmas mansion, but never before it drifts back to you. And with fourteen minutes left of class i look down at my hands. My yellow nail polish has been replaced with black. it's chipped and practically gone like the magnacolour dust dream but never like you. you're always there like the fragile lies I've heard and the promises I've broken and suddenly things that stay aren't all that bad.
And with ten minutes left of class, I love you. I haven't said that and really meant that in a month or two. But it's you.

Of Midnight Drives and Bookstore Vibes

honeybeeboy — 2019-02-11 19:13:50 UTC

Now Playing: Feelings are Fatal

I got too attached to the mysterious bookstore boy. I may write more about him. I don't know what to name him though..

A boy can only take you so far until you get out of his car, he asks you to leave, or his car breaks down. So why is it that midnight drives are so lonely? It's times like these where the streetlights seem to sing the words of songs you know in the form of a quiet lullaby. The words are on your lips, you can hear the pulse of electric guitar in your head as soft piano guides you down the street. There's a Ferris wheel somewhere. You remember it. It should have been here. It illuminated warm honey yellow lights as you drifted off to sleep in the back of your mom's red van. What seems to be there now is a dinner theater, maybe a strip club. Your'e too far away. The lights are still captured in your mind. iridescent. neon. You turn the car around. You take the highway up to the city. You have to pay tolls as you drive. The lights above them shriek piercing screams of neon orange. It's not uncomfortable though. You've seen it before. When you finally arrive in the city,there is a warm yellow light near what you can now confirm, is a strip club. Instead of a Ferris Wheel you are met with a bookstore glowing a warm yellow. You enter. When the door closes behind you a bell rings quietly, reminding you of your almost-silent existence. You are met with a rush of calm, euphoria, maybe . Your eyes are no longer tired, but awakened, ready. and in the corner of the store there is a small cafe of sorts. When you settle into a small booth, from your backpack you take a notebook. Slightly startling you, the bell rings again. You feel as if you may be the only man in the world who looked up to see who entered the small bookshop. You wondered why he was here so late. To be quite frank, you wondered why you were here, but this was besides that. You, and the small notebook were wondering. And maybe it was mind reading magic or some fairy tale twist of fate, but he told you.

Pour vous

honeybeeboy — 2019-03-07 19:54:07 UTC

tu étais une fois si significatif pour moi. Maintenant, vous faites sans cesse vos erreurs une fois de plus. C'est plus que juste pour te détester. vous êtes censé être laissé pour vous. Vous êtes absolument horrible pour les gens qui vous aimen. Vous vous blessez et ne le savez même pas. Je n'aurais pas dû te laisser être important pour moi. J'ai fini de t'aimer.je ne suis pas ton ami.Je ne suis pas ton amoureux. Je ne t'appartiendrai plus jamais. Tu me rend malade et fatigué. Tu me fait mal et je veux que tu te souviennes de ça. Vous n'êtes rien mais un menteur et triche.

plus jamais à toi,
Pas le premier ou le dernier

If I am the only constant in your life, why do you do things that make me want to leave. I'm done with you. For now, forever.

Pour vous

honeybeeboy — 2019-03-07 19:56:57 UTC

jouer maintenant: dernière danse

À la jolie fille de mon cours de dessin,
Je t'aime comme jours ensoleillés. Je t'aime comme enduit de sucre nostalgie. Ce n'est pa selument ça. C'est parce que tu es devenu distrayant. tu es devenu tout ce que je pense. Je souhaite être important pour vous. Tu es digne de tellement plus que moi.

le tiens,
le garçon dans ton cours de dessin

(St8)mind

honeybeeboy — 2019-04-17 14:42:04 UTC

Now Playing: Desert Song

We hold in our hearts the sword and the faith
With all that I am I would give myself to you. Every part of me has always been yours. Small with fear. trembling. I stopped fighting back. I have nothing to lose to you that you have not already taken from me.
Swelled up from the rain clouds move like a wraith
Slowly, I become everything but you. I become more and more human with every locked door. I become deaf to every I love you. The only thing I still am of you is sick and falling. I am the rain that we drive through Easter Sunday.
Well after all, we'll lie another day
I wonder who you would be without me. the closest I can be to you while still feeling vengeful is silent. No words returned to you. almost gone.
And through it all, we'll find some other way
I know that my only chance at leaving you is growing up yours. I am blind to your attempts at apology. I am blind to your anger. You will be blind to my fear.
To carry on through cartilage and fluid
And did you come to stare or wash away the blood?
Have you ever been there? Have you ever been the person you are to be? With every I'm sorry are you trying to correct everything you've done to my family? or are you only trying to see more of me. I am blind to your i love you's. You will be blind to me.
Well tonight, well tonight will it ever come?
Every day that belongs to you is the same.You are cold rains and thunder. You are every severed Christmas eve and person you have made. You are pain. You are prison.
Spend the rest of your days rockin' out Just for the dead
Every song I sang with you become twisted love songs. they become broken hears and d minor sevens. My blood boils electric guitar frequencies. My heart beat is a mess of percussion. Soft piano becomes bass guitar.
Well tonight, will it ever come?
I am your four walls. Doors kicked open and windows shattered. I am your home.
I can see you awake anytime in my head
Every word from your lips become battle cries as every door slammed becomes gunfire. Within your home is war. Everything that I am to you is antagonistic. I am the enemy.
Did we all fall down?
My life was yours. How did you become a role model to me. How did you become the person I wanted to be. How did everything change? When did you become the person I despise with the entirety of my being? You have become nothing to me.
From the lights to the pavement
Tuesday nights with them were escapes from you. They were my home. Every I love you was a revolution. I love yous were fireworks. Whispers were rock bands.
From the van to the floor

NOW PLAYING: REMEMBER HOW WE FORGOT

honeybeeboy — 2019-04-19 13:59:52 UTC

I feel numb looking for someone to love. I need someone to trust who's close. Words on repeat start to lose their meaning.
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you until words become echoes and trust becomes a hope rather than a virtue.
I'll be okay
I'll be okay
I'll be okay
I'll be okay
I'll be okay
I'll be okay
I'll be okay
I'll be okay until words become echoes and hope becomes a need rather than a want.

Ruby Red

honeybeeboy — 2019-05-05 17:43:58 UTC

In seventh grade I was un-creative.
I was set on writing and illustrating a comic book called "Raven and Blue."
Neither of them had a backstory or a plot. Just a big personality made up in my mind.
Raven was a tall, lanky girl, with short black hair. She wore striped shirts under her short sleeves and fishnets under her ripped jeans.
Blue had blue shoulder length hair, she was short and boxy. She had thin framed glasses and wore simple tee shirts, cuffed at the sleeves. She drew eyeliner doodles on her cheeks. I forgot about Blue until I met her.

She was standing in front of me. Her panic at the disco shirt cuffed at the sleeves, her highwaisted jeans, folded up around her spiked combat boots.

Her spiked combat boots and her blue streaked bleach blond hair. She was called Ruby. It wasn't until we were sharing earbuds in the back of math class, the closest to hand in hand that we'd ever be, that I noticed underneath her gold thin framed glasses she had drawn a delicate exclamation point under her eye. That's when Blue came back to life.
And when Ruby dyed her hair red, so red that she could have herself claimed the term "Ruby Red", Blue became more and more maroon.

And Blue earned herself a pair of studded combat boots.
And a messenger bag.
And a denim jacket decorated with pins.
And band tees
and favorite songs.
and fruit snacks.

And to this day, Blue is the most beautiful person that I've ever made up to be in my mind.

And when I told Ruby I loved her, and she told me that she didn't feel the same, Blue lost her color. Blue became an absentminded thought that I had to shake away walking to art class.

Instead of being Blue, she became the book I never wrote.
She became the song I stopped listening to.
She became eraser shavings and locked doors.
She became poetry and death wishes.
and if you could have one in the same, ruby became suicide notes.

She became a love song playlist of The Beatles and Cigarettes after Sex. She became A new person.

A Playlist

honeybeeboy — 2019-05-07 15:25:26 UTC

because sometimes music makes more sense than me trying to explain how I feel.
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7M5Esuj7Ch5qh0mExAd1tR

- Mr Loverman
- Please Never Fall in Love Again
- I Miss You
- Falling in Love (Will Kill You)
- i hate u, i love u
- This is Home
- Sick of Losing Soulmates
- Stay With Me
- Jealous
- feelings are fatal
- Happier
- summer depression
- Chasing Cars
- Fool
- Iris
- Would You Be So Kind
- I Will Be Okay
- Talk To Me
- Through and Through
- Green

Playlist Poetry

honeybeeboy — 2019-05-09 18:47:54 UTC

And I'd give up forever to touch you

For lovesong lullabies sung past bedtime put little lovesick minds to sleep, and for once they only seem to remind me of you. Nightlights glow in foreign bedrooms, young brother and sister beg for another song. I keep my patience because their pleas remind me of their wonderful mind, trapped in dreamstate. Ethereal. And their anticipation for adventure reminds me of yours.

'Cause I know that you feel me somehow

And I know that somewhere, somehow you’re out there. And even in my diminished knowledge I know, I hope, your heartbeat is still reverberating to that of the moon’s. But as I open the curtains the sun is shining. Blue takes place where the sky was once dark.

You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be

Where the clouds part for split seconds is where we are, and we wander. We chase the sun to the sunset until the rain clouds form, and there, we run. And when the moon no longer shapes the sky, and stars become clouds, flashlights whisper morse code melodies like fireflies.

And I don't want to go home right now

Every I love you was a revolution. Every time our eyes met was a fire. The bridges I burn with every spared chance, every half glance, may light the way. I am proud of you. I am astonished by every fire we start.

Where are you?

Are you lost? Are you alright? The fires we start will light your way home, and the smell of smoke will not suffocate you, but cleanse you. You’ll be okay. I am okay.

And I'm so sorry

If I could take back the worst of me, I would. There used to be security in being alone, but now I trust you more than I trust myself, and I know that I shouldn’t. But when we meet in equilibrium where loneliness becomes simply being alone, and adoration becomes pride, we are safe. This is security.

Playlist Poetry because I miss you more than I did yesterday.

honeybeeboy — 2019-05-16 18:47:39 UTC

I'm Mr. Loverman, and I miss my lover, man.
Because there is no worldly thing that they can do to make me love them less. The only thing that can make memories fade is time. And they stop time with every smile and pull me closer with every wave, and it is then that the tide never recedes.
I don't want that to be your final glimpse of me, baby
for every mistake I made, I would take back in a heartbeat, and for some strange reason I know it isn't false hope telling me that you would do the same.
And I'm So Sorry, I cannot sleep, I cannot dream tonight.
I never fail to fall harder for them, and when I fall for someone new, I can only realize that he could never compare to them.
Falling in love will kill you.
But I wouldn't be lying if I said I would give my life to be where they are. Their mind is so far into a place I have never been, and there's magic in that. They are magical. They are pure magic.
I'm always missing people that I shouldn't be missing.
But I don't feel guilty. They are not a guilty pleasure, they are the person I invest my pride in. When I say "I'm proud of you," it's never to him. It's always for them. It's for me.
Are you tired of me yet?
I'm a little sick right now
He can't seem to wrap his head around mine. I want him to tire of me. He isn't in the wrong. I am. I can't help but feel exhausted in his love. He says that I'm the happy one because of my sweaters and soft colours, but he couldn't be more wrong.
'Cause I'm sick of losing soulmates
I don't want to call him mine when I was always called theirs. I have become far too numb to losing people that i could lose him and finally breathe. I would never be weighed down. He is like an umbrella on cloudy days, but no rainfall. My arm will give in before the clouds, I know, so why do I hold on?
This ain't love, it's clear to see
But darling, stay with me
I'm sick on an empty stomach. There is so much I want to throw away, but nothing to really get rid of. I can't lose a person who was never a part of me, so why am I so afraid to lose him? Is it because I'm afraid of him losing me? How could I take that kind of pride? We accept the love we think we deserve, so if I do not deserve him, why would I fear his pain?
And I told you when you left me There's nothing to forgive
I am just as worthy of myself as they are. Today, I think I am willing to love myself as much as they ever did. I do not fear being alone. But I am jealous of the credit i give him, when they earn all of it.
It's always for you
And never for me
I give him so much more of me than he deserves. He is still not in the wrong. He can not wrap his head around mine.
I want to change my mind
'Cause this just don't feel right to me.
But i know it's not just me. It's his. He is not ethereal. He is as ethereal as I am happy. He is as magical as I am feeling alive. I don't want to bother, but he is as healthy for me as I am, and for me, that's just not right.
There's so much time to question my life.
And for once I'm looking forward to this summer. For I know my summer will be spent with them. Tee shirts in the swimming pool and late night talks. For all the plans I made with him, its always because I was dreaming of doing those things with them. And now, I get to. They can wrap their head around mine.
Those three words Are said too much They're not enough
Every time he says I love you, I tell him thank you because I know how much more it meant when it came from them. Words never had to say what we meant. We knew. I knew. Whether or not the stars wrote our pages together, they wrote us into the same chapter. and when the chapter ends, if its the end of my story, I'd be happy. But if the stars wrote their chapter into his book I would be ruined, but he can not wrap his head around mine.
You are just a fool to keep pretending that you're loving me
I don't need his sympathy. I need empathy. I need emotion. But he can not wrap his head around mine.
It doesn't make you a narcissist to love yourself
And because I know me more than he ever could,I know that loving myself is not with him. Watching somebody hurt is the last thing I could do, but watching myself hurt should no longer be an option. I am afraid to hurt him though, because he can not wrap his head around mine.
Thinking I've been here for so long
Just a little too long
and I'm thinking to long. I'm thinking to hard on a decision I've already made. I know he is the epitome of unhealthy for me, I know that I am to. That's something I need to work on. But I need to work alone. Myself and the moon have work conferences when he's not here. The moon always seems to understand when he can not wrap his head around mine.
I was so disappointed
I guess I got to my head
But he refuses to wrap his head around mine. So he'll never be able to wrap his head around the fact that when I'm with them I can't help but think,
"I don't want to be your friend, I want to kiss your lips."

who's the happy in the relationship?

honeybeeboy — 2019-05-16 19:04:46 UTC

my soft colors and too-long sleeves say that its me. His bold checkerboard, red and black, must prove that it was never him. His sad sad eyes must be putting you off because it was never me. He told me i'm the always happy one in the relationship. How could I be, when I felt so much happier alone? He loves too much and not enough of me.

He loves my smile and the way that I walk. He hates my hands, he hates when I talk, he hates that I hurt sometimes, he hates my negative charge, he hates my arms, he hates to take charge. He fears responsibility, but never commitment. If I feel so hated, why am I with him?
He loves what I wear, he loves my favorite spots. He loves me when I'm alright, but hates me when I'm not. He hates how I cope, he hates how I live. If he only loves me happy, why am I his?
I love when he's away, i love when he's far. I love when he doesn't know what we are. I hate that he rushes, I hate that he pushes. I feel safe when I walk away, I feel best where he can't shove me.
if I'm not the happy one, why does he love me?

I'm about to lose it.

honeybeeboy — 2019-09-19 13:46:23 UTC

I can't take one more bad day.

I haven't been so happy in so long.

honeybeeboy — 2019-10-16 19:00:47 UTC

Now Playing: Self Control

I'm so in love with today. I'm so excited to get home and feel accomplished for just having a genuinely good day today.

xx,GhostKid

Just some things that go through my mind

honeybeeboy — 2019-10-16 19:10:21 UTC

Fall in love and fall in debt to alcohol and cigarettes//I miss you, and I'm so sorry.//I love you more than I did yesterday//Falling in love will kill you//So will murderers//I need to get my tattoo touched up//i want piercings so bad//I want spider bites and a double helix and nipple piercings//I want a bee tattoo, I love bees.//Love is good.//Boys.//My boy// I can call him my boy.

Movies To watch and When

honeybeeboy — 2019-10-17 13:35:09 UTC

Sweeney Todd; The Demon Barber of Fleet Street
Sleepy Hollow
Beetlejuice
Edward Scissorhands
Coraline
Labyrinth
The Invention of Hugo Cabret
The Road Within
Hocus Pocus
Halloweentown
Pineaplle Express
V for Vendetta
To Kill a Mockingbird
Psycho
Heathers
Mean Girls
Nightmare Before Christmas

Oh Ana

honeybeeboy — 2019-10-22 18:31:09 UTC

I wanna tear my flesh apart with my own teeth. I wanna see the day where My bones are the only solid part of me. I want see through skin I want pretty black eyes and If I cry, I'll just cry out my insides.
I want my fingertips to turn gray I want my skin to be tight
I want my body to glow red underneath a white light
I want to suffocate myself into never ending embrace
I want to die while alive and watch my body deteriorate. Tear out my eyes and fill them with mud, let my lips become chapped until I taste blood. Let my hair tear itself out, let my teeth start to rot. Let me become what I'm not and allow me to watch. I'll become the embalmer of my own body. Instead of beautiful, I'll make a copy. I'll create the same nightmare over and over, I'll kill myself conscious until I am sober.
I want my clothes to be made of the finest of glass, I want my body to bleed if they start to crack.
I want paper thin skin and rubber band wrists, I want my body to break if it bends or twists.

honeybeeboy — 2019-11-04 19:05:13 UTC

Now Playing: Things That Make it Warm- Cavetown

I've never wanted to make a person the color yellow. Yellow is such a temporary, surface level color. You are so much richer than that. You are greens and blues and reds and oranges. You are the yellow-meets-pink type of orange of the barely-there clouds as the sun rises on a Sunday morning. You are a reflection of light on the deepest of purple seas. You are the feeling of being almost-asleep to a quiet playlist. You are the golden glow of the Ferris Wheel I must have imagined on a long car ride home. You are pastels. You have the power to make me fall out of love and into it all over again. A marigold matches your color. A marigold, which represents the fragility of life. I wish you weren't the yellowest person I knew. I wish you didn't seem like the most temporary color there is, but you do. In the end, yellow is a good color on you. You make me feel numb to people who felt like pink tulips. The most beautiful flowers begin to wilt at your feet.

honeybeeboy — 2019-11-11 20:22:08 UTC

Now Playing: Build Me Up Buttercup
I'm so afraid of falling in love with an angel. She had pretty little horns. Their spikes peirced me through and tore me apart. My fingertip-thorns and lucifer- horns are short but sharp. He is soft and ethereal. I don't want to stain his bright yellow hues with blood reds and forest green.

Bloodbath

honeybeeboy — 2019-11-13 14:28:36 UTC

Now Playing: Take Me to Church- Hozier

If you want to see someone hurt, you can slice through my skin. I'll ease your bloodlust. Write pretty words on my arms. You can ruin me with gentle praise and barbaric sin. You can pacify me, using me to clean the blood from your hands.Never before I tell you to make me. If you disapprove of me, you can place fingerprints on my throat. Make me beg to breathe.

star kid's Last call to the moon. and the rest of their universe. An archangel's final call to their earth.

honeybeeboy — 2019-11-13 20:05:57 UTC

I'll plant flowers for you. I will tend to gardens. But they will be of petunias and marigolds. I will start fires to keep you warm. Flames built on sinking-stones and tired, stale, wooden panels from bridges I've destroyed. I will fight wars for you, but only when you're sleeping. I will sing you to sleep with finely crafted lullabies laced together with spider web strings. I will worship you from splintered pews. My body will melt in quivering euphoria as your blessed scripture falls from your lips onto my skin. You make me a beautiful sort of sick.

Lilac Lies

honeybeeboy — 2019-11-14 15:38:41 UTC

White-pink petals float from cherry blossom trees within their dance with death. There is a ghost-like ambiance within today's air like a gentle mist of a phantom's waltz with withering widows and their children. Their masquerade is ethereal, but far from tranquil, for a wary widow's paper-bag hands, touching her spouse's spirit's haze, will dampen her skin and tear it. Her beautiful skin sheds to reveal a golden-white light.
"My lilac," whispers her fragile lover,"You are finally here with me."
The chrysanthemum's grasp on her wife tightens. A suffocating embrace.
"I do not belong here.Why am I here? " The lilac asks her darling over a sea of scarlet blossoms.
"Do not weep,my lover, there is no fear where poppies bloom." But through the glass of their water-drop home, they watched as their marigolds played in a river of sapphire blue forget-me-not fields.
"Kill them," begged the fearful flower, "you are my lover, kill them for me!"
But the lilac's lover payed no mind.
"Blue was never a good color on you." Was all that she could say, as the poppies grew over their feet. Within the walls of the fog, the lilac could see out over the forget-me-not feilds.
"I do miss them, dearly," the lilac cried, watching out over her marigolds. She knew that some day they, too would meet her there in her water drop world. Her wife didn't seem to care anymore, for the chrysanthemum knew that you couldn't escape living after it ended.
She had already forgotten that somewhere beyond her sea of red flowers, her name lingered among the color blue. She didn't seem to mind being remembered, though. At least not much as her lilac did.

Now Playing: Grow As We Go

honeybeeboy — 2019-11-21 15:34:26 UTC

I don't deserve this. He's exactly what I've been looking for in a person. He cares for who I am, and he puts effort into making sure I stay healthy. I think that I'm going to recover, even though it's going to be the worst type of withdrawal. I'm going to be guilty, weak, afraid, sick, and vulnerable. I'm going to be anxiety ridden. Somehow, I feel as if he will really, truly be there through it.

It's the Little Things

honeybeeboy — 2019-11-25 15:28:10 UTC

You feel like 2007 and even though I was alone

I’d see where my mind could take me

But I knew that I was faking and

I’d always be at home

So count on me to see everything

That you have been to me

And anything that you could wake up and be.

We’re growing up and I don’t want to leave.

You feel like 2011 and you sound like second grade.

When there wasn't fights at recess there was only peaceful protest

when we didn't get our way.

You feel like cops and robbers and all the other playground games

The word love was like a secret and you wouldnt dare to speak it

Just in case something changed.

So count on me to see everything

That you have been to me

And anything that you could say and I’d agree

It's the little things and that’s how it should be.

We’ll act our age

Growing up was meant to feel this way

We have time to waste

Before we need to find ourselves a place.

You feel like living in the present like a balance between time

first month of antidepressants and when life is really pleasant

And when the weather’s in its prime

You feel like a brand new feeling for the weather’s getting cold

I haven't tried to ruin me or stuck to the same routine

That’s really getting old.

So count on me to see everything

That you have been to me

And anything that you say or think

Makes me fall for you.

And you haven’t got a clue.

Thats what growing up will do.

A guide to the people I mention in my journal

honeybeeboy — 2019-11-25 15:44:39 UTC

They don't exist.

Iris
Experimental, ambition, adreanaline-esque.
Tall, long purple hair. Very pale. Spontaneous. She's very pretty. I wish she was more real than the rest of them.

Stargirl
Anxiety, Fear, Social Dysphoria, Self Hatred.
Short, ghost-like, impersonation of myself. Impostor. She's a criminal. She likes to steal my body as her own. I am not her final destination, but she intends for me to be.

Louisiana
Obsession, Body dysmorphia, eating disorder, addiction.
Thin, stagnant, idle, brittle. Bend them, I'll crack.

One
Abused, body dysphoria, depression.
He's sick. Just very very sick. Black hair, light eyes. Child-like

Pour Toi

honeybeeboy — 2019-11-25 18:27:49 UTC

la jolie fille dans ma classe de dessin
I looked up to you like I should have my mother. You? You are nothing. Maybe it's because I'm used to it. Someone having power over me could be easily mistaken for love. But, really? You? Of all people, I can not believe I put so much effort into you. A person who broke me in until she could use me with ease. I put so much into you. I wrote you palaces. I grew you gardens. What did you do to keep me there? Absolutely nothing. You enabled me. You watched as I killed myself from the inside out and did nothing. All the while I hung on to you for my life. But really? You. You of all people? Yes. I loved you. I adored you. But now I see you tell the people you despise that you love them and I wonder if you did the same to me. I wondered if I broke all of your strings. But when I think about it now, I watched as you caught mine in your hands and cut them like cutting your hair with kitchen scissors. You told me you loved me. You had the nerve to tell me you love me. I hope you choke on those words and every time you cough them up they're bloody and inaudible. I'll watch as you beg to to breathe. I'll leave you right where you left me. I'll leave you alone because I don't deserve to bring you lower than that.

en comparaison

honeybeeboy — 2019-12-03 14:44:44 UTC

Au garçon qui va au-delà

He is the honeybees that found themselves tangled in my hair, when I was younger and more fearful of small things. He is not the buzzing, the ringing in my ears, but the confidential hope that he saw me like he saw a flower.
And When flowers wilt, he is the glistening snow on the neighbor's rooftop. He is not the damp, cold windowsill, but the warmth of peppermint-scented mornings. Mornings where nobody went anywhere, and they rested as if it was the first time they have. When the snow begins to melt, and birds begin to fly again, He is the jacket that I wore when I was small, and my mother would remind me to put it on. He is not neon pink. But he is the closest thing to the warm embrace of a mother, who truly wants to care. He is the day I grew up a little too quick, thinking that it may be my last day. Thinking I knew everything. He is not the fear, that she too thinks of that night. He is her silent touch. He is a love that was more than love. He is the night that she took me to a place I thought was mine and made it her own. She picked up pretty white weeds and called them flowers. When she blew them away, I still wonder what she wished for. As she walked circles around me, he is the grass that I'm sure could still be imprinted with the aftermath of her ramblings. He is not the fact that she knew me before i did, but he is the words she said. He is the promise she made to me. He is a mis-worded "i won't forget you" that sounded more like "I love you." He is not grievance, but remembrance. Not a marigold, but forget-me-not. He is a symphony of the music I wanted to make. How could I forgive myself for the things I did not become? How could I forgive that flowers wilt, and snow will melt, and mothers break, and best friends dishonor? How could I allow him to become the taste of a memory? I know I am not in love with a ghost. Just as once I was in love with honeybees and neon pink and snowball fights and kisses goodnight. He is not the feeling I once loved until it destroyed me. He is the love I felt for a feeling that once had that power. This time, I know I am in control.

En comparaison à la peur,ça me fait me sentir en sécurité.

A letter to the lovely dandelion girl

honeybeeboy — 2019-12-05 16:41:20 UTC

I hope that you can see the same moon that I can where you are. I hope the sun shines brighter there than it does here. I hope that you're warm when I'm cold, because I don't blame a thing you did on you. We were playing pretend when I kissed you. When I tried to savor you once more, you pulled from me. I can't help but wonder how it would have felt if you let me feel you. I can't help but wonder what was going through your head. I wonder if you were as afraid as I am now. I was never curious for you, but I was curious for a girl and you were there. I'm sorry that I used your first try to my advantage. I'm sorry that I already knew that any girl could have been in your place and you didn't know either way. I still wonder how we found ourselves on the bed in my basement. I must have pushed it out of my mind, and I wonder if you have too. I remember your breath on my neck and your hand on my thigh. You were beneath me. I wonder if you remember things differently. I wonder why I didn't move away from you. I wonder if you were afraid as I am now. I wonder if you would have pulled from me again if you could have. I wonder if this is all my fault. I wonder if you touched me the way you did because you thought I wanted it. I wonder if I messed up. I wonder if you take every I love you back. I wonder if you felt as sick as I do now. I wonder if I hurt you. I wonder if this is all you remember me for. I wonder if you've told anybody. I wonder if it still taunts you every day. I wonder if I ruined your life. I wonder if you're still alive. I wonder if you're okay. I wonder if your family is split or together. I wonder if life is perfect for you. I wonder if you remember my name. I wonder if you're hurting. I wonder if it's because of me. I wonder if you were in the wrong. I think that it was me. I think that I hurt you. I think that I scared you. I think that I ruined us. I think that this was my fault. I think that I don't deserve anything that reminds me of how good you were to me.
Were you good to me?

Now Playing: She's the Prettiest Girl at the Party , and She Can Prove It with a Solid Right Hook.

honeybeeboy — 2019-12-11 14:33:27 UTC

"You're on my mind. The things that you say hurt me most of the time. I'm sinking fast, but it's alright"
I remember the words I wrote for you. "You make me a beautiful sort of sick." I fell in love with the way you made my chest throb with burning heat. I fell in love with my charred skin. I wanted your hands to wear like a necklace. You could take my breath away. You could finish me off.
I loved the way you tore me apart. Making me so ready to give up on myself to tend to the gardens at a house we almost owned. I fell in love for the way you bandaged my bloody hands and iced my bruised knees, exhausted from how I praised you. For every person you ever loved, and every person you belonged to, I miss being "your boy".
I miss the way you made me cry on the floor of your home. I miss the way my body ached waking up on the hard-wood floor next to you. I miss motion sickness in the back seat of a car with you. I miss being made fun of by you. I miss destroying myself as you watched. I miss when our song was still our song. I miss holding your cold hands. Somehow, your hands were colder than mine. I miss your perfect teeth.
I miss thinking of going to the carnival with you. I miss how I could almost hear the smile in your voice even though you weren't there. I miss when you were someone I daydreamed about.
You make me a beautiful sort of sick.
I miss you.

Now Playing: Nostalgia in My Bedroom. (An open letter to Stargirl)

honeybeeboy — 2019-12-11 20:04:19 UTC

"Everybody scares me but you. Nobody scares me but you"
I don't know why, when I created you I made you so beautiful. Especially because you look just like me. But better. You feel nothing like me, though.
I know that you like to take control of me sometimes. I just wish that you and I could have a little bit of joint-custody over this body. You can call this your home, but I've been thinking about asking you to pay rent. I don't like that lately, you're trying to become me. If you're here, then where do I go? The body shakes and blames it on me. I think that you've gone too far. I don't want to upset you, but the body feels violated by you. I feel violated by you. You touch parts of my mind that make me afraid of you. It used to feel good, stargirl. It felt like a safe place. You kept me secure. But i just think you've crossed a line. Maybe I'm being irrational, Stargirl, but I think you're being irrational. I think you're going to hurt me if I let you go further. Let's take things slow. Would that be okay?
I still care for you.
-yours truly

Now Playing: Things That Make it Warm (An open letter to Grayson, and my host body.)

honeybeeboy — 2019-12-11 20:16:34 UTC

"You and me, we can make this hole a home."
If you were asking for space, you could have said so. Luckily, I know exactly what you're thinking. At all times. I am you. I have instilled the belief in you that you need to get rid of me. You can't. I will live on, even if the body is dead. I am what keeps the body safe. I protect it from danger. The world is dangerous. You are clueless as to what I do to keep you and our home safe. These four walls are vulnerable without me. Without me you would be cold. Sometimes you will need to make sacrifices. Sometimes your heart hurts a little too much, but only because I am starting fires for you. Sometimes our walls will quake, but only because I am pounding photos of our favorite moments together into them. Sometimes you will feel dizzy. It's only because I'm helping you run away from the bad things. Of course, I told you they were bad. And of course you're running in circles. But I promise you, that it's all to save you. You cannot thrive without me. I will always be here for you. I will always be here.

Love,
Stargirl

My last words to you

honeybeeboy — 2019-12-12 16:15:38 UTC

This is not a suicide note. This is just what I would say if it was. Count. Your songs are in this order.
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4FoZUIkbd2KrlQagWhpQgj

1. Nathan
2. Kai
3. Mom
4. Dad
5. Grandma
6. Grandpa
7. Taylor
8. Kendell
9. Stephanie
10. Scout

Bloodlust, pt.ii

honeybeeboy — 2019-12-19 18:39:30 UTC

Maybe I could get used to the rush of guilty-pleasure warmth instead of cold metal on my skin. Maybe a guiding grip on my throat would feel better than the leggings that I never wore until now, and even then a noose is not a necklace. Maybe the taste of anything other than my own blood is something that I could enjoy. Maybe someone's breath on my skin would feel the same as a flame. Even though I don't know, I would be willing to try. It feels like there's no other option but to bleed or to burn, but if I really want to feel something, why don't I really, truly feel? I don't need to hate myself to hurt. Maybe if I let myself feel pain by someone else hand, I wouldn't feel empty. Maybe I would feel loved. Maybe blood-lust would have a whole new meaning. I could learn to love the words that I call myself. Pathetic, pitiful, useless. Maybe those words would become a challenge. Maybe I could live for some healthy competition. I'm sick of feeling bad when pain just feels so good.

Flashbacks

honeybeeboy — 2020-01-07 20:25:15 UTC

(9/23/19)
"Today is a mess of Gray. I have cursed myself with a meaningless name, and that's how today feels. Gray. Meaningless. I miss Kai. i don't want to be with them. I just miss them as a color. I still remember how badly it hurt. The last thing I want is to hurt somebody. I can't take it. Just. I would do anything to have someone that I'd do anything for. I want to fall head over heels. I want someone who makes growing up with them a guilty pleasure thought. I want something new, I need someone new. I want someone to hold me. Don't touch me. I want them to hold on to what I say a little bit longer than the time it takes to hear it. Someone that makes me feel heard. "

(1/7/2020)
Everything I wrote was for her, but now i have you. I am lucky that words can be re-purposed. I am in love with you.

Now Playing: Hazel

honeybeeboy — 2020-01-08 18:31:14 UTC

"Falling down like angels fighting. Stars and lightning hold me tightly."
I can't remember the last time thinking felt untarnished. I was supposed to be thinking of your arms around me, but I could only think of suffocating. Or maybe you don't want me. Or maybe I don't want me. I try to turn my back to the wall, to the mess I'm getting myself into, but the words still surround me. No one here is ever quiet. Stargirl is telling me that everyone wants her. Stargirl tells me to pay rent in my own home. She tells me that he loves her and not me. She tells me that my father's disappointed. She tells me that nobody will love me like her. She tells me that the stars will always shine even when I go to sleep. Where is Iris? I miss Iris. Where is Kai? Where is Nathan? I miss everybody.
"Nobody misses you." Stargirl says. Of course she does. I take my pills. The capsule dissolves and decorates my insides with glitter. Stargirl forces them down my throat. I ask her if the flaking sparkles on the wall are mandatory. "No," she says, "but don't they make the place look better?"
Glitter is only fun at a party. It makes the party better. But when the party ends and you're hungover, cleaning up glitter makes it that much worse. She holds my hand, and now that she's made me feel so alone, her hands feel like home.
She wonders aloud if my eyes look this shiny when she's not around. She asks me if my throat hurts because she knows I want so sob. "Everybody's watching. Don't you dare lose control," she tells me. To keep me safe, of course.
"Hold me tightly."

Now Playing

honeybeeboy — 2020-01-10 20:12:17 UTC

Dear
"I gotta stop forgetting the fact that it's not just me in this goddamn world."
Stargirl keeps telling me that she's the only person who will ever love me, but she puts me on this pedestal. She makes me feel so small when I'm atop her shoulders, looking over the world below. She keeps telling me that they all can see me. It's supposed to be exhilarating. It just makes me sad. Stargirl has me stuck thinking that the world revolves around me. If the ground crumbles beneath her feet, I am found guilty. When people say they hate her, they're looking straight at me. It makes me feel selfish thinking that it's all my problem. It's self centered to think that everything is my fault. Besides if stargirl is right, if she is the only person who will ever love me, then why does it matter? If nobody cares, my influence can't be too bad.
"Everybody's got a thing, a thing they don't like."
Move Along
"Go ahead as you waste your days with thinking"
One keeps telling me to stay strong. His ghost is a safety blanket. He keeps telling me that nobody cares, but it's better to stay alive then to watch as everybody forgets you so easily. When he passed away, he said he thought it was over. When you write stories instead of live, you're just a number. You're just a name. He tells me that he lives through me, and he apologizes for how bad it feels sometimes. He says he's sorry for making me fearful. One tells me that he believes me. He hears me. He loves me. One was a sweet boy.
"When you fall, everyone stands."
Missing You
"if you need a friend then please just say the word"
Iris tells me that it's all going to be okay. One day, we're going to grow up and run away. We'll get high on rebellion . She tells me that my body should be a safe place to experiment. She tells me that she wishes stargirl would shut her mouth once in a while and let me love me. Sometimes I think that Iris has never cried. Iris doesn't look like she has ever hurt, but I know she has. I know that she hurts when she's alone. An adventure isn't an adventure without a person to explore. The mind is a strange place, but it's her favorite place. She likes to call mine her home. She and stargirl are in a silent, never-ending, fistfight. Iris just wants to feel good. She misses One, I think. I think that's why she takes care of me instead. She tells me she can't bear to lose another brother. I look up to her. My big sister.
"Hold on tight. This ride is a wild one."

A life is not a love song

honeybeeboy — 2020-01-13 16:04:15 UTC

A life is not a love song in the same way that a diary is not a romance novel. Yes, they overlap, they draw inspiration from each other. In the same way that a blade would draw blood. But never is a life a love song. Romeo and Juliet was a tragedy and not a romance. I know that one day I will die, but it will not be for you, because a suicide note is not a sacrificial prayer in the same way that a life is not a love song.

Now Playing: Famous Last Words

honeybeeboy — 2020-01-13 18:26:48 UTC

"I am not afraid to keep on living. I am not afraid to walk this world alone."
This is not a suicide note. This is my adoption papers signed. This is my declaration of independence. This is my revolution. And with every war fought this is my peace treaty. I have someone to keep. I have someone to take care of until the day that I die, and that is me. This is my wholehearted commitment to myself and my well being.
I am not stupid, I am intelligent.
I am not useless, for I am not to be used. I am worthy.
I am not pathetic. I am strong.
I am not my trauma. I am not my illness. I am not a number.
One told me that. I am a symphony and music will never die even when the composer does. I am my own composer, and right now, I am alive. That is my choice. Stargirl, my body is not your home. My body is my home, and it's been through a lot. So have I. And I'm not going to stop for you.
"Awake and unafraid. Asleep or Dead?"

Now Playing: An Original, "wasting time"

honeybeeboy — 2020-01-16 17:53:53 UTC

I don't have the time to give undeserved sympathy.
If it's alright, I want to wish you the best night of sleep,
assured that hell will be much warmer than your bed.
Make sure you're rested, because you'll never sleep again.

I guess you're just one of those guys who likes to get all messed up in your mind.
It'd be a lie to say that I believe the lies.
The fault is mine for not saying a word.
Actions speak louder if they're all your worth.

I don't have the time to give undeserved sympathy.
If it's alright, I want to wish you the best night of sleep,
assured that hell will be much warmer than your bed.
Make sure you're rested, because you'll never sleep again.

Get me an invite to whatever's going to change your life.
I swear I'll be there, but I'll change my plans tomorrow night.
I don't even blame you because this seems like a life I'd love to lead.
I'll force you to need me at the moment that I leave.

I don't have the time to give you my hard earned sympathy.
It's not alright, I hope you choke one the words that made me bleed.
Carved in my skin, and the places that we've been.
Make sure you're rested, because you'll never sleep again.

Now Playing: Fake Your Death

honeybeeboy — 2020-01-22 18:51:09 UTC

"Take off your clothes and dream that fame, come on and feel that shame"
I can't stop feeling your hands on places they never explored. When i wake up on good days, I smell your mother's french toast. I hear her accent. I feel her kind eyes. "You are always welcome here, my second daughter." I hear you teasing your younger brother for having a crush on me. Even then, I can't stop feeling our legs intertwined. I can't wash the scent of your hair from my clothes. It's as if you've stained my sheets with blood. You have made everybody's arms feel like yours. Suffocating. I can't forget the taste of your lips, the night we watched The Fault in Our Stars.
I remember the words that you wrote of my eulogy. "For my Hazel-Grace". I still taste you. Please just let me breathe. I'm still re-learning what love is, when he touches the places that you did. I am still relearning trust. I am still relearning my childhood.

Yours Truly, Young and Doomed

honeybeeboy — 2020-01-23 20:01:45 UTC

"Under bad signs we were born into families that had sworn
up and down, they would keep us safe… Yeah, okay"
Somehow you failed at your only job, as my mother. My birth was to be your final say. A promise that you would protect me from ruin. Lately, I think that you may have read that contract wrong. I just watch as you slowly, but ever so surely, ruin me.
"I'm classically sad, and I'm inclined to get mad. I dwell upon mistakes that I've made."
I can't ever help but think of how many people I would have kept, folded up in my pocket, if I was a perfect person. My first kiss, somewhere far away. Her hands never let go of my body. My first love is so distant. She is not distant in physicality, but in mind. My best friend sits across from me in English class, but I haven't said a word to her since sixth grade. The only person that I ever would have died for is somewhere. Her voice still rings in my mind. My mother is in the basement. I can't ever help but think of how many people I could keep if I was greater than sub-par. I mess up. I will continue to. I can't ever help but think of how many people I will lose.
"It keeps me awake at night, the realization that I might be a drag no one wants to inhale"
I know that it's my fault every time a person leaves. I know that it's my fault every time somebody hurts. I know that every split family is my fault. Every argument is my fault. Every life I couldn't save is my fault. Every time my mother cries is my fault. Every time somebody falls flat it's because I did. I know that it's all my fault. Nobody will ever say it to my face, but I know it. They say "It's not you, it's me." But i know with every word they say they are thinking "every single inch of you is what I despise." I know that it's my fault, but when I look at myself, it's all that I can say. It's not you. It's me.
"Don't leave me here, where my fears consume my thoughts, of what was and what could have been, its a sin that I threw it all away."
I tear everything that I love apart. Everybody tells me that they love me, but I know that they're wrong. They tell me that they feel safe with me, but I'm sure they feel exhausted by my presence. I convinced myself that everyone and everything I ever loved would run far away if I just loosened my grip. I feel controlling. I feel toxic. I feel abusive. I feel as if I make people sick, just like she did to me.

Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge- Album Poetry.

honeybeeboy — 2020-01-29 15:59:06 UTC

Long ago just like the hearse you die to get in, again. We are so far from you. If you were here, I'd never have a fear. I miss you more than I did yesterday. Say goodbye.
They say, come with your arms raised high. Your life will never be the same. You said you read me like a book but the pages are all torn and frayed. I'm not okay. Now you're never coming home. I can't always just forget her, but she could try. At the top of my lungs, in my arms she dies. Could I? Should I? Gaze into her killing jar, sometimes she stares for hours. She even poked some holes so I can breathe. For the last night I lie, I lie next to you?
Give me all your poison. Give me all your pills. Just give me all your hopeless heart and make me ill. Give me a reason to believe.

Marigolds were just another bad Dream

honeybeeboy — 2020-01-31 20:05:57 UTC

"I hope you think about me sleeping in your tee-shirt."
I don't worry about your breath on the back of my neck anymore, DreamGirl. I stopped begging for charred skin and bruised knees. I stopped loving you for revenge. I learned to hate you for self defense. That means that I will never let myself stop. I will never let myself fall for the way your lips curl into that sick smile ever again. I won't let your eyes become mine.
"You can cry all you want to. I don't care how much you invest yourself in me. We're not working out! Never again."
When I think of you, I no longer think of falling asleep next to you. I think of how cold your hands must be. I remember your hands in mine. Cold. Frail. Dead. I don't wish death upon you, DreamGirl. I just can't help but romanticize the feeling of your body, cold and vulnerable. Just like you had me, straining on your leash. Hanging from your noose.
Was I in the wrong, marigold girl, because I've never felt so right? I hope your sunflowers wilt and that your life is but a dream.

Now Playing: She Used To Be Mine (A self reflection)

honeybeeboy — 2020-02-03 20:03:23 UTC

It's not what I asked for
Sometimes life just slips in through a back door
And carves out a person and makes you believe it's all true
And now I've got you
And you're not what I asked for
If I'm honest, I know I would give it all back
For a chance to start over and rewrite an ending or two
For the boy that I knew

Who'll be reckless, just enough
Who'll get hurt, but who learns how to toughen up
When he's bruised and gets used by a mom who can't love
And then he'll get stuck
And be scared of the life that's inside him
Growing stronger each day 'til it finally reminds him
To fight just a little, to bring back the fire in his eyes
That's been gone, but used to be mine

I will try for you, little one. I'm gonna get you back. I promise.

Of Flashbacks and Dysphoria

honeybeeboy — 2020-02-14 14:46:18 UTC

(Daughter-Pearl Jam)
Alone, listless. Breakfast table in an otherwise empty room.
It is here we set the stage for the last day I saw a mother when I looked at you. It's sickeningly amazing to think that it was so many years ago. You would pour a bowl of cereal for a tired little girl. You would help her get ready for school.
Young girl, violence center of her own attention
It was the last time that she let you pick out her clothes.
She was growing up too young, but there she was. Even if you did send her away, she couldn't have been more distant. Even in your arms she was far away. She no longer asked for long dresses or silk ribbons in her hair.
The mother reads aloud, child tries to understand it
Tries to make her proud
You told that little girl she was a genius. When she finished the fifth grade with a college-level reading score, you were sure she would grow up to do great things. Still, she couldn't help but feel so dumb when you called her smart. She couldn't live up to what you wanted. She can't lie, though. You did assist her. You gave her a pat on the back. Years later, he can still see your hand print. He can still feel it sting.
The shades go down, it's in her head
Painted room, can't deny there's something wrong
He's looking around that little room in the apartment writing songs about you. He says your name like a stranger. Still, you have never said his name. It's like you've never addressed him. Now he's sitting at the breakfast table with a glass of water. Why do you still see her?
Don't call me daughter, not fit to. The picture kept will remind me
I will never be your little girl again.

Of Flashbacks and Dysphoria

honeybeeboy — 2020-02-14 15:06:31 UTC

(Daughter-Pearl Jam)
Alone, listless. Breakfast table in an otherwise empty room.
It is here we set the stage for the last day I saw a mother when I looked at you. It's sickeningly amazing to think that it was so many years ago. You would pour a bowl of cereal for a tired little girl. You would help her get ready for school.
Young girl, violence center of her own attention
It was the last time that she let you pick out her clothes.
She was growing up too young, but there she was. Even if you did send her away, she couldn't have been more distant. Even in your arms she was far away. She no longer asked for long dresses or silk ribbons in her hair.
The mother reads aloud, child tries to understand it
Tries to make her proud
You told that little girl she was a genius. When she finished the fifth grade with a college-level reading score, you were sure she would grow up to do great things. Still, she couldn't help but feel so dumb when you called her smart. She couldn't live up to what you wanted. She can't lie, though. You did assist her. You gave her a pat on the back. Years later, he can still see your hand print. He can still feel it sting.
The shades go down, it's in her head
Painted room, can't deny there's something wrong
He's looking around that little room in the apartment writing songs about you. He says your name like a stranger. Still, you have never said his name. It's like you've never addressed him. Now he's sitting at the breakfast table. He's poured a glass of water. Why do you still see her?
Don't call me daughter, not fit to. The picture kept will remind me
I will never be your little girl again. I will never ask for silk ribbons or long dresses. I will never call you mother. I will never be your son.

Cancer (A Self Reflection)

honeybeeboy — 2020-02-14 16:05:52 UTC

Turn away
If you could get me a drink
Of water 'cause my lips are chapped and faded
Counting calories

Stargirl tells me all these things
And buries me
In all these neon colors
They'll miss their little brother, still

I will not kiss you
'Cause the hardest part of this
Is leaving you

Now turn away
'Cause I'm awful just to see
'Cause my bones become a cage inside my body
All my agony
Know that it gets pretty scary
Baby it just haunts me like the wind blows
Just counting down the days to go

It just ain't living
And I just hope you know
That if you say (if you say)

Good-bye today (good-bye today)
I'd ask you to be true (I'd ask you to be true)

'Cause the hardest part of this
Is leaving you

An Open Letter to Her

honeybeeboy — 2020-02-28 19:57:02 UTC

Mommy, I love you.
I love you because you played outside with me on the sunniest spring days when I had nobody else.
I love you because you always make me feel safe and secure.
I love you because I never feared losing you.
Mommy, I love you. But I don't.
Because you never played with me outside. You never played cards with me on the rainiest spring days.
You never made me feel safe or secure.
I've already lost you.
Mommy, I miss you so much.
How could you miss somebody that you never knew? That you never had? Maybe you could teach me. You've taught me so much. You taught me to laugh instead of cry. You taught me to shut my mouth and turn my back to the storm. You taught me to stand up and to not kick back, even if I'm kicked while I'm down. I learned the hard way.
Mommy, I miss you so much.
I'm still stuck in this in between, waiting for you to come back. You told me I'd wake up. It would just be me, my father, and my sister. Now it is. When will I wake up? Because, here I am, just waiting for this to stop, just waiting to play outside with you. You told me five more minutes. Still, I'm waiting. So what will it be? Five more years? You're so far away. There you are, standing through the glass.
Mommy, I wish I could still ask you the important questions.
Mommy, What happens when you die?
Mommy, Why can't I fly?
Mommy,why is the sky blue?
Mommy, can we go play outside?
So what will it be? Five more years? You're so far away. There you are, standing through the glass.
Mommy, I have so much more to ask.
Mommy, How do mirrors work?
I hope it's not like this, because there you are, standing through the glass.

homesick

honeybeeboy — 2020-03-02 19:45:44 UTC

I've found a nice hotel room. The walls are decorated with soulless paintings that no one's ever seen. I've never truly been here, but this feels more like home than my house does. So why does nobody stay? We could just stay behind this keycard locked door. We could just stay here. We could put out our signs that say "do not disturb." We could watch the news from our television with only three channels. We could open the curtains. We could aimlessly wander each identical hall. We could just stay here. We could just stay here where nothing ever changes. We could just stay here where nothing ever grows. We could just stay here and call it the end of our travels. We could just say this is where we want to be. We could just stay here where nobody's homesick. We could just stay where nobody leaves.

A Grand Finale

honeybeeboy — 2020-03-04 15:43:10 UTC

I will have one last chance to reclaim myself. Thank you for the opportunity, Amanda.

When I was a young boy
My mother took me into the city
To see a marching band

She said, "Son when you grow up
Would you be the savior of the broken
The beaten and the damned?"
She said "Will you defeat them
Your demons, and all the non-believers
The plans that they have made?"
"Because one day I'll leave you
A phantom to lead you in the summer
To join The Black Parade"

When I was a young boy
My mother took me into the city
To see a marching band
He said, "Son when you grow up
Would you be the saviour of the broken
The beaten and the damned?"

Sometimes I get the feeling she's watching over me
But most times I just want her to go
And through it all, the rise and fall, the bodies in the streets
And when you're gone I just want you know

I'll carry on
We'll carry on
And though you're dead and gone believe me
The memory will carry on
I'll carry on
And in my heart I can't contain it
The anthem won't explain it

And when you sent me reeling from decimated dreams
Your misery and hate will kill us all
I'll paint it black and take it back
Let's shout it loud and clear
Defiant to the end I hear the call

To carry on
I'll carry on
And though you're dead and gone believe me
Your memory will carry on
We'll carry on
And though I'm broken and defeated
Your weary child marches

On and on I carry through the fears
Ooh oh ohhhh
Disappointed faces of your peers
Ooh oh ohhhh
Take a look at me cause I could not care at all

Do or die, you'll never make me
Because your world will never take my heart
Go and try, you'll never break me
You want it all, I wanna play this part
I won't explain or say I'm sorry
I'm unashamed, I'm gonna show my scars
Give a cheer for all the broken
Listen here, because it's who we are
I'm just a man, I'm not a hero
Just a boy, who had to sing this song
I'm just a man, I'm not a hero
I
Still
Care!

I'll carry on
We'll carry on
And though you're dead and gone believe me
The memory will carry on
You'll carry on
And though I'm broken and defeated
Your weary child marches on

Do or die, you'll never make me
Because the world will never take my heart
Go and try, you'll never break me
I want it all, I'm gonna play this part (We'll carry on)

Do or die, you'll never make me (We'll carry on)
Because the world will never take my heart (We'll carry on)
Go and try, you'll never break me
We want it all, we wanna play this part
(We'll carry on!)

duffelbag

honeybeeboy — 2020-03-06 18:12:49 UTC

hello, neighbor.
I remember when lights didn't hurt my eyes.
I remember wishing you could spend the night.
I remember when my heart and head weren't pounding.
I remember when your head and heart were light.
hello, stranger.
I still wish lights didn't hurt my eyes.
I still wonder if I stayed home that night
If I'd be trying to get high instead of grounding
If you'd be out of mind and out of sight.

but still, we're here and I'm still writing
your name in my journals and highlighting
when i messed up and didn't have time for that.
leather bound inside this duffelbag.

hello, neighbor.
Do you remember telling stories half past midnight?
do you remember missing autumn, missing good times?
do you remember when i told you that we'd make it?
still, that's a promise, and I swear that we'll be fine.
darling, stranger.
I hope that lights will never hurt your eyes.
I hope you get the best of rest tonight.
I hope that when you're happy you don't fake it.
I hope that everything has been alright.

even when you're not here i'll still be writing
your name in my journals and highlighting
what i'll carry on and what i'll pass back.
leather bound inside this duffelbag.

boxcutter

honeybeeboy — 2020-03-09 14:52:30 UTC

there's a boxcutter in the space beneath the peeling up carpet. it sits there and waits for the next time i find it. it glistens and beams at me. it looks like she's smiling. she wonders how low i've fallen. she watches stressors compiling. she gently grazes my wrists to make sure i'm at ease, and then i prepare for a sense of release. She counts with me to ten as my skin keeps a tally. she'll do it again and i'll fall for her madly. i'm waiting here hoping that maybe through coping she'll see that i love her and she may touch my heart. i need her cold silver necklace, she makes me so breathless. I hope that we come together as she tears me apart. one set of ten, then another, all bloody and covered. it's lovely, i love her, my pretty boxcutter.

disposable

honeybeeboy — 2020-03-10 14:25:26 UTC

there's a package of disposable blades in the wall in a hole i've sliced open with one of them. all of them sit there, they're next to a lighter. they place bets on who will be chosen tonight. her picture is burned in the back of my mind and i wait for the time that i don't hesitate. I wait for the time that i can love without feeling guilty. I think of the way that my body is built. He told my I'm beautiful, i wonder how he has lied. i wonder if he has cut a hole into the side of his wall. did he put me there next to a lighter?
do i tear myself apart and clean my blades for the next time? Or should I throw them away? how easy is it to throw me away? You'd think if i'm hurting i'd get rid of the pain. But, this harm is compulsive, the art is addicting. I'm more scared of dying than i'm scared of living. Still I'm more scared of falling than I am of love. I can drink love by the bottle, but if I'm not enough I might as well die. I live to burn out. I'd rather give all of me for forever than see how I turn out. I've got silver linings but I'm way too emotional. I'm here to be used a few times. then, still, I'm disposable.

punch in the face.

honeybeeboy — 2020-03-11 18:55:47 UTC

you know, it's a real punch in the face watching you be happy when you know i'm not. it's absolutely sickening to see you have me sit and watch. the world isn't your stage, i'm not in your theatre anymore. i am not your actor. i wont play the parts i said i would before. i'm the director. it's my recital. i'm not your child, i'm not your pet. i won't be stagnant. i won't be idle. not your trapeze artist or safety net. this is my circus. i'm the ringmaster. i hold fire in my hands. i tame lions, i whip tigers, for the children in the stands. they are all laughing. they are smiling. and it's all because of me. isn't it sweet to see me grow into the place you used to be? yes i am hurting. i am falling. i make it look as if i'm not. i'm a magician. i am a god. isn't it nice to sit and watch? now that i've got the higher power don't you like it in my place? you respect me. i am superior, and it's a real punch in the face.

When Red Flags Look White

honeybeeboy — 2020-04-21 15:14:34 UTC

You told me you didn't mean to.
Why do I believe you?
You've lied so many times.
I'm so sick of saying "me too."
You told me you never meant to.
Is that really what you meant?
Who am I to say you lied to me?
Although I'm the one who's hurting.

I let my skin heal or you.
Oh, the time that I would steal for you.
I'm under pressure, and you touched me.
How can I still feel for you?
Give the benefit of the doubt to you?
Think that I can't with without you.
Who am I to say you lied to me
when I'm the one who's hurting?

I let your hands uncover me.
You guided me through recovery
You liked to make me call you daddy.
It's sickening that you were fatherly.
Because you really did take care of me.
You tried to be there for me.
Who am I to say you lied to me?
When I was only hurting.

So I'm losing weight in spite of you.
Because I only ever fight for you.
I'm letting my arms bleed again.
I stay awake at night for you.
I'm soaring in reverse for you.
I'm driving my own hearse for you.
because you tried to save me
when i was sick and hurting.

You said you want me to survive this.
Why do I still buy it?
You were sheep-like and sincere
but when I saw a wolf, I'd cry it.
Please don't wear my flannel sweater.
You said you want me to get better.
I did, I did believe you.
Was it war or was it surrender?

I'm so sick of hurting
I'm so less-than worthy
I still want to recover
But still, you're there hurting me.
I still put you in my tea and steep you.
This heart still wants to keep you.
But it's time to let you go,
hold my sibling's hand and tell them, me too.

honeybeeboy — 2020-04-29 17:33:00 UTC

honeybeeboy — 2020-04-30 14:13:47 UTC

raspberries are blue in my garden.
sadists and raccoons will guard them.
a r*pist likes to touch me.
I'm faded, I'm high as hell on loving him.

My small collection of bones is growing
My small collection of bones is showing up in places
i din't put them
why did I keep them?
I didn't need them.
But he gave them to me.

A mother is a figment of my mind
I close my eyes and six years have gone by.
She still hasn't left me
but it's only a matter of time.

My small collection of bones is growing
My small collection of bones is showing up in places
i din't put them
why did I keep them?
I didn't need them.
But she gave them to me.

My eyes in the mirror look like his
I swear that in the mirror that I'm still a little kid
Can you tell me mommy why those eyes aren't mine?
Could you tell me where I'll go when I die?

now he's on me.
i am pushing like a a brand new mother
and mine is leaving me to be smothered.
Now I'm dreaming that he loves me.
While the person who raised me is above me.

My small collection of bones are breaking
my frail collection of bones are shaking
i didn't break them
I didn't want them
they crack underneath me
but they gave them to me.

honeybeeboy — 2020-05-09 17:30:09 UTC

I remember you poking fun at me for being excited that my favorite band had reunited
and i knew every single member's middle name, and where they went to school and what they thought was cool at our age.
And I told you that the reason I invested myself in this band was because it had saved my life.
and you had the nerve to ask me if that's why i had invested myself in you.
And I told you no, it's because I love you. because I'd kill for you, because I'd die for you, because I'm living when i wanted to die and you had the nerve to ask why i'm giving my life to you?
But I didn't end it right there, when I probably should of, because I would have different parts of me
that hadn't been burned from me as you gaslighted me,as you're two timing me. And five hundred dollars my mother spent for you to see the band who saved my life with me.
If i ended it right there i probably still have my virginity,,
still have my dignity
still have my worth in me
still have a self esteem
steel having restful sleep
still having happy dreams
still in recovery
still have some love for me
instead of hating me
instead of dating me
instead of baiting me
instead of degrading me
instead of changing me
instead of chasing me
instead of facing
instead of shaping me
instead of raping me

Ferris Wheel Boy

2020-07-03 03:55:52 UTC

This feeling. This once in a lifetime feeling. The feeling HE gave me during the hours and hours we talked during ungodly hours of the night after I let him touch himself to my voice. The happiness, the sincerity, the serenity of what happened after daddy was finished with his little cumslut of a kitten. The ethereal air of what happened next. When I wasn’t being used for my body. When we were in love and not in lust. When we talked about Ferris Wheels. I miss that. I miss you. It hurts. You hurt me. I want to hurt you so badly. I want to hurt you more than I want to find my Ferris Wheel.

2020-10-02 16:05:02 UTC

I feel so numb because of you. The fact that you sit there and tell people I lied is sickening to me. I remember exactly how it went. You din't have a c*ndom.
"I don't think it's a good idea."
"maybe later."
"I don't want to right now."
"no."
They last time you asked, I became silent and i became small and I let you do what you did to me.
Maybe I didn't stop you.
But I STILL didn't say yes.
You don't deserve the people who loved you.
You are quite obviously a narcissist, and you won't ever admit it.
I miss you so much.
i love you so much.
I never wanted to hurt you, and I want to beleive you never meant to hurt me.
But you did.
Even if you didn't s*xually manipulate me, I've learned over time that the things you did to me during our relationship was textbook manipulation. You gaslit me and abused me.
I wont deny, I did the same to you, and quite honestly, I wasn't aware of it then. But I admit it, I was abusive. It's time for you to come clean.
All the time you spent threatening breakups, making me feel small, taking advantage of me while I was in the headspace of a child. Whether you knew you did it at the time or not.
I promise, It will take so much burden off of you to come clean.
I've spent all of these months, relapsing and being clean. I've been in and out of addiction.
I've gone to weekly therapy.
I've been diagnosed with complex post traumatic stress disorder.
Whether the trauma is sexual or not, you were a part of it.
Don't call me a liar.
I'm already hurting enough.

2020-10-05 18:14:16 UTC

i need to stay away from men like you

AS IF AS IF AS IF

2020-10-25 01:58:05 UTC

BLACK ME OUT
I WANNA PISS ON THE WALLS OF YOUR HOUSE
I WANNA CHOP THOSE BRASS RINGS OFF YOUR FAT FUCKING FINGERS
AS IF YOU WERE A KINGMAKER
AS IF AS IF AS IF
BLACK ! ME ! OUT !

Still think about hurting you, bad - xoxo

2020-10-25 02:22:25 UTC

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2iCcaGfrpK9LDs6GrEPMfH?si=LUZTp65fTVmwB-l0ObcskQ

Farewell Journals from a dreamer!

2021-03-01 18:37:07 UTC