Bad Art & Weirdo Ideas

The sound of your heart is wired to break.
Too fucked up to love, but too soft to hate.

The hum of your lungs is my favorite thing
and the air you shove out
into my mouth.

I’ve always felt stuck, alone or ashamed.
The gutter’s too tough, the stars are too safe.

I’m always that kid always out of place.
I try to get found,
but I’ve never known how.

I’m tracing the lines on your handsome face,
the scars on your arms, the shape of your veins.

We are not alone.
We are not mistakes.
Don’t whisper now.
We’re allowed to be loud.